#let this man romanticize about a past that never happened!!!!!!!

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[firstfirerebel]

𝕳𝖎𝖘

Sumary: Tom Riddle is obsessed with reader and won't tolerate her being somewhere else than his side (Reader is against the hate on Muggles or Muggle-Born wizards)

Pairing: yandere Adult!Tom Riddle/Voldemort x fem! reader

Warnings: Dark content, obsession, mention of the three Unforgivable Curses, implied kidnapping, death, yandere, toxic behavior

Time: First Wizarding War (meaning Voldemort/Tom is still a normal man)

English is not my native language!

I DO NOT SUPPORT OR ROMANTICIZE YANDERE BEHAVIOR!!!

"Why won't you just understand that all I want to do is create a new world, a better one. One were you, and I will rule together!"

"But I don't want that! In fact, I don't even want to be near you! I'll never join you nor support you. Just give up already and let me free!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another day in the Malfoy Manor where you were captured by none other than the dark lord himself. And another day, where you just hoped to escape or die. Sounds harsh? Listen to your story first...

You have known Tom since your Hogwarts time. You weren't in the same house but in the same year, and even though you weren't close, you did happen to have some lessons together. Never you would've considered him a friend. He was just a classmate who sometimes helped you with potions, and in your free time, you sometimes met him in the libary by coincidence, but that was it.

Yeah, you did find him attractive, but you would have never thought to date him or something like that. After all, he always wanted to be alone and didn't like company. You also preferred being alone, to be honest. Still, he somehow scared you from the beginning. His eyes hold no emotions, but in his actions and his aura, all you felt or saw was pure hate. Tom didn't talk about his past, but he didn't have to for you to figure out that it must have been no good one.

Once you were in sixth grade, attacks on muggle-born students happened, and in the end, Myrtle, who was a friend of yours, was killed.

Yeah, she was very difficult , but she didn't mean any harm towards anyone. Besides that, she was bullied by so many students that you just felt pity for her. You were also bullied in your first years at hogwarts until the students stopped out of nowhere. Since then, you have had problems with being social. Most people who were close with you ended up using you for their own benefits or saw you as their therapist or something like that.

Okay, Myrtle was known for being over sensitive, but still, if people knew she would cry because of mean comments, then why make them? She was in her third year when she died, and she only flew to the girls' toilet because Olive Hornby made fun of her again, which made you more sad about her death. It's not like she chose to have glasses. What was wrong with some people?

In the end, Riddle accused Hagird of being responsible for her death. Only you and Proffesor Dumbledore were convinced that it couldn't have been Hagrid. He was way too nice and kind-hearted for such a terrible crime as murder. Though you didn't think it was Tom either.

But it didn't matter. Hagrid was suspended, and that was the end of it.

Since that time, you didn't trust Tom Riddle anymore. He was the one who made everyone believe that Hagird was guilty. And somehow, since the incident, Tom's aura has become even more intimidating and dark. At least that's how it felt to you...

Once you graduated, you didn't hear of him again, which didn't bother you at all. You lived a peaceful life for a long time. You loved your job. You had true friends. You could do your hobbies. And sometimes you even went on a few dates.

But, if it would have stayed that way, you wouldn't be at Voldemorts' side against your will, would you?

The day that ruined your life was a rainy day. It wasn't too cold nor too warm, so you decided to take a walk in the nearby woods. You loved to spend your time there. All the creatures and plants fascinated you every time without fail. Sometimes, you even saw unicorns, which felt like a miracle everytime Besides, it was one of the last peaceful places left.

War would soon come. It was only a matter of time. Everybody knew that. Maybe you only had two months left, or you still got two years. No one knew except the ones on Voldemorts side.

At that time, you only knew that 'The Dark Lord' was a user of the dark arts. And he hated Muggles and Muggle-Borns. Which was enough for you to despite him. Dark magic was never something you approved, and you didn't care about the blood status of anyone. What mattered to you was always the person.

Usually, the woods were filled with life and joy, but that day was different. The forest looked intimidating from the outside, and you even thought about going back home.

Sadly, you didn't listen to your inner voice. But, it wouldn't have changed your fate...

Once you entered it, you didn't hear the happy cheers of the birds like always. And you didn't see any nifflers running by or other creatures in general. Something was definitely wrong.

But you continued to walk, which would soon turn out to be a fatal mistake. As soon as you reached the river, that was in the forest, you realized why everything was so different than usual.

Death Eaters had chased and killed a Muggle-Born witch with her family. They were on a camping trip, as you could tell from the scenery. But there was still a girl, most likely two or three years old, still alive.

Without a second thought, you hid behind a big tree and some bushes around it.

It seemed like the Death Eaters didn't know what to do with her. Maybe she wasn't part of the plan? At first, you thought that this was not an important mission for them, but then you saw Bellatrix. She was very well known as Voldemorts' right hand. She personally learned dark magic from him and was definitely the most loyal Death Eater there ever was. So this must be a really important matter.

You couldn't stand her guts and wanted nothing more than to just slap her even if you didn't know her in person. Dark magic wasn't something you supported. But still, you couldn't deny that she was dangerous and powerful. Her madness didn't lower that fact.

Since dying wasn't on your to-do lost today, you ran away as fast as you could. Since they were arguing so loud, they didn't hear you. Of course, you wanted to help the little girl, but it was simply impossible to get her without getting caught. And against a whole troup of Death Eaters with one being BELLATRIX, you didn't stand a chance.

But luck wasn't on your side...

As you ran away from the horrible scene, you ran into a Death Eater. They wore their typical black clothes and their mask was on, so you didn't see who it was.

Before you could grab your wand, you heard an angry mumbled 'stupor'. You fell onto the ground and blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke, you didn't dare to open your eyes. After all, you got caught by a death eater, so you being alive was a miracle. You didn't hear any voices around you. It also wasn't cold and wet around you, so being locked up in a cellar wasn't the case as well...

Beneath you was a comfortable mattress. It was soft and made you want to fall asleep on it. But what the hell was this all about?!

If you're caught by the bad guys, you normally don't wake up in a soft bed. Did they bring you back home? No, that would be too risky. Maybe they wanted some information, but you weren't really someone well known in the wizarding world.

Patiently, you waited a few more minutes, but still not even the slightest noise. So you opened your eyes.

You were in a dark room. The main colors were black and dark green. Black wardrobes and black walls. The bed was made of black wood, but the sheets were dark green, the big carpet on the floor as well. No one was with you in this room. Desperately, you wanted to know where you were. From the colors, you would have guessed that it was a Slytherin Dormitory in Hogwarts. But kidnappers don't bring you to your old school!

Scared you inspected the room once again. Nothing was familiar...

You took a deep breath and stood up. If you would die, fine, but as long as you had the slightest chance of escape you would take it.

The carpet felt also really expensive beneath your feet. By the way, your kidnappers were so nice to pull off your shoes before laying you into bed...

Everything in this room seemed to be just made for this specific room. Which frightened you even more.

Suddenly, the door was opened, and you saw a pretty woman (walking down the street 🤣) in the doorframe. She was slim and tall, had long blonde hair that was tied up in a bun. Her tight dress was rose gold with a black cloak over it. All in all, she looked like a wealthy woman. Her face was pretty as well, but she looked like she got a dung under her nose. Weird.

"Get up and follow me, My Lady," her cold and clear voice told you.

"Uhm, I'm not your Lad -" but she was already on her way to your goal. You had no clue where it was, but following her was better than sitting around, right?

"I know this must be really confusing, but our Lord will explain it to all of us soon. I was just told to get you and call you that. Now, please, don't make this harder for us than it already is,"

You managed to catch up to her. Now you also saw that her eyes were ice blue. Matching her cold voice.

"Who are you?" you asked softly. Kowing her name could be a good hint to where you were.

"Narcissa Black, soon to be Narcissa Malfoy," the woman didn't look at you for one second, her eyes were focused on the walls. So you were still in the claws of the death eaters. Family Black was well known for their puryity, not a family you would have gotten along with.

The corridor was huge by the way. Dark colors still dominating. Only the chandelier was white. Did this belong to one person or was it the headquarters of Voldemort and his minions or what? Instead of getting awnsers you only got more questions as you walked after Narcissa.

Downstairs. A few steps upstairs again. Left. Left again. Right. Straight forward. The second right.

Was this a house or a Labyrinth?! How were you supposed to find your way in here? You even got lost in Digeon Ally!

But after what felt like an internity, you both reached a large black table, people gathered around it. A tall man stood up from his chair as he heard you two enter. As he turned around, you saw your old classmate Tom Riddle, but if he was here, he wouldn't help you. If he became a death eater, he was behind after everything you swore to fight. He wasn't an ally or a friend anymore. He was a danger and a threat to you and many innocent people who weren't here.

You tried to hide behind Narcissa. After all, she was the only person who seemed at least a little trustworthy, and she was another woman. Maybe she knew how unsafe you felt because mostly men were in this room. The only other woman was a mad Bellatrix, never ever you would trust her.

"Ah, there they are. Come in, " Tom spoke. His voice had changed, and it was more intimidating than it was before.

You didn't move an inch, but Narcissa started to move forward. Being all alone without someone to hide behind was more scarry, so you followed her, but you were still behind her.

"Oh no, don't be afraid. No one here will even dare to glare at you, my dear. They knew the punishment would be worse than death," You couldn't recognize Tom anymore. The hate in his presence, his voice, his appearance, everything scared you. Back in school, you didn't fear him, at least not for his house or his roots. Just because he was a Slytherin, it didn't mean that he was evil, but now? His opinions were completely different than yours, and this was not a stupid novel of the stereotype enemies to lovers cause he was just plain and simple wrong with his thoughts on muggleborn or muggles in general.

[Funfact: I don't get the hype on this topic, see, for being autistic I got bullied for many years and than reading a story about two people hating each other's guts and than falling for each other just feels wrong for me, you can read whatever you want ofc, this was just my unpopular opinion]

Still, you hid behind Narcissa, but as she tried to go towards a man with long blonde hair and her crazy sister, you felt completely defenseless. The only person you used to know seemed to be the head of everything here, and Narcissa wasn't at your side anymore. Sadly, Tom saw your fear. He went towards you and pulled you in an unwanted hug. Softly, he petted your hair and whispered sweet nothings. As soon as this horror hug ended, he smiled at you and turned towards the others.

"If anything should happen to her, everyone will be held responsible! You know the punishment, now go! We are done here!" As the last word fell, everyone disapparated, and only you and him were left.

And then you realized it. If he could order the death eaters around, he must be the dark lord himself. Tom Riddle, your old classmate, was Voldemort.

You backed away from him but regretted it soon. Tom didn't take rejection good...

"Why are you scared? I won't harm you. In fact, I am the one who has kept you safe since I saw you!"

"Are you mad?!" You yelled back into his already mad face. Wrong choice again. In full rage he stormed through the room and kicked everything in his way. Chairs and even the whole table practically flew through the room.

"Who protected you from those bullies back in Hogwarts?! Who kept you safe from all filthy boys who just wanted to break your heart?! Who killed the mudblood Myrtle so you were safe from her?!"

So Dumbledore was right... Tom opened the chamber of secrets all those years ago. And killed your friend.

"Myrtle was my friend! I never asked for your personal protection, Tom!"

Somehow that calmed him down! Yep, that man was a complete psychopath...

"But you didn't have to, my dear", he ran towards you and cupped your cheek while looking into your eyes.

"Keeping you safe will always be my priority. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you and I knew that I would always protect you. Look around, here in our mansion you will always be safe. No one will ever harm you again. We'll be safe here! After I've won this war you and I can live here in peace. Just imagine it, I'll make us so many horcruxes that we won't ever die. Here we will raise our kids and they'll never go through the pain of being an orphan like I was", pain and hate was in his voice at the simple thought of 'death' and 'orphan'. But having a family with this insane man? Hell nah, you'd flee the moment you got the chance!

"I know now this is scary for you, and you might think of escaping, but this whole mansion is surrounded by death eaters, the moment you even think of fleeing you'll be brought to your room and trust me, I know how to punish or torture someone so that no mistace will ever happen again",

And that's how you ended up here. Behind you was the man that claimed to love you fast asleep. Yet he was the one who made you go through all of this. Most traumas you had were because of his action. If this was love, than you could already drown in it.

You had no idea if you could ever escape or if even the try of escaping was a good idea. This man wasn't well known for his kindness or his patience.

Maybe playing along would make it easier, but would your mental health take that well? Or would that make him do worse things 'out of love'?

Still, you rethought your first actions towards Tom, trying to figure out what made his obsession start. Was it your look? Your hairstyle? Your body language?

Or was it just being unlucky?

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

05 Collaring

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / SAGAU / Set after the events of Fontaine Archon Quest / Not Canon-Compliant / Reader is Creator Primordial God 2.0 / Mentions of romanticized death and suicidal ideation / Starts out light & kinky and ends up dark and angsty as with everything I write

"Your Grace?" The old god's voice trembled as he approached you.

Stagnant emotions stirred to life in the depths of his amber eyes. There you stood in front of him, like a resurrected phantom from his distant past, familiar yet so unrecognizable.

A warm smile spread over your lips. Out of all the faces in Teyvat, you looked forward to seeing his the most.

Zhongli had always been your favorite of the seven Archons. From the moment you laid eyes on him, he had a certain hold over you. That had always been the case for the past four years. It was no different now that you were no longer separated by a screen.

The moment you spawned, curled up in that oversized marble throne up in the sky over Teyvat, they all felt it. Memories flooded into your head, causing you to nearly vomit from the overload. Just your luck. Instead of some unknown adventurer, the role you had been thrust into was that of the game's final antagonist, the Creator of Teyvat, which had been asleep until you appeared.

"You've finally returned." He said gravely.

"You don't sound happy to see me, Morax." You took a seat in the lacquered chair in front of him, sipping on the tea he had brought you. "Or should I call you Zhongli now, since you've abandoned the post given to you?"

You couldn't let him onto the fact that you weren't the same person who had given him his divine title, not without ensuring your own safety first. You might be down bad for this man, but your braincells were still alive and well. Out of the seven archons the original Creator appointed, only two remained. Most have given away their gnosis and one even managed to destroy their divine seat and return sovereignty to a dragon. It was needless to say, Celestia's control over them had been slipping long before you stepped in.

"I have not, your Grace. My exit was necessary for the people of Liyue. If I did not leave, I fear the erosion I am subjected to under the Heavenly Principles will cause undue harm to them, which I cannot bear to see."

"If you wanted to leave, why are you still mingling with them disguised as a funeral consultant, hm?" You couldn't help but prod him a little. "You're quite attached to them, aren't you?"

"I am." He admitted after a pause. "Anything will grow on you given enough time."

"I guess we've grown distant then. You even threw away the gnosis I gave you."

"Forgive me, your Grace. There was no indication that you would ever return otherwise."

"I'd understand if we're speaking about the Anemo Archon, but you? I never took you for the impulsive sort. What would you have done if the Cryo Archon failed? I left you with all of my wishes and you gambled everything on an experiment to bring me back."

The ex-archon drew in a deep breath. "I don't expect to escape the consequences. Punish me as you see fit."

"Oh, I'll punish you." The corner of your lips curled slightly. "Not too harshly though. You're my favorite afterall."

You didn't miss the ripple of shock that lit up his eyes momentarily. The Creator he remembered would never have said such a thing. Maybe you should tone the favoritism down a bit. Morax wasn't dumb. If he found out the Creator had been hijacked, you might actually be in trouble.

Well, that part didn't exactly pan out as you imagined. You were spending way too much time with him even though you deliberately told yourself to avoid him when you could. Even with the original Creator's memories to skim over, you were ultimately not the same person. Of course you would slip up, repeatedly at that. He kept popping up in places you happened to be at unannounced, drifting into his spot beside you like you had willed it to happen in your head. It was like all the forces in Teyvat, the earth, the wind, the rain, everything was giving its utmost efforts to fulfill some sort of unspoken demand of yours.

"Are you following me?" You finally couldn't take it anymore and blurted out your suspicions. "You're like my cat. I go to the bathroom, she's there. I go to the kitchen, she's there. Bedroom, there. She's like sticky rice. I know she can't leave me alone because she's obsessed with me. Are you obsessed with me?"

Zhongli stood there awkwardly, trying to articulate an explanation for his incessant appearances. He didn't even get the chance to process that you were talking about a cat that didn't even exist in Teyvat, but rather in your homeworld.

"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it, your Grace? I assure you though, I was simply on my way to purchase some tea."

Maybe he was telling the truth. Two things could be true at once. There must be a reason, you stubbornly thought. This wasn't normal!

You had to get down to the bottom of this, or you'll definitely drive yourself crazy. As a logical person tossed into a fantastical place like Teyvat, you were sorely out of your element. Trying to exercise common sense here was like trying to measure water with a ruler. It made no sense, but you persisted. You'd conduct experiments and find answers.

As the Creator of Teyvat, the first descender, your will was said to be powerful enough to rival the world. Your feats included sealing away its original sovereigns and rearranging its landscape. You also created life and implemented the heavenly principles that gave order and structure to the world you willed into existence. All who belonged to Teyvat succumbed to your will to some extent.

Your gaze landed on a stray cat pacing back and forth under a food stall. There was a morsel at the edge of the counter. You narrowed your eyes on it, focusing all your attention at it.

"Fall." You uttered under your breath.

A gust of wind knocked the inconspicuous piece of food off the edge, sending it spiraling to the ground. The cat picked it up and happily sprinted off. You were left speechless.

Once, it could be a coincidence. Twice, it might still be a coincidence. Third time, it had to be divine intervention.

After the lucky cat had its fill, you accepted the uncanny possibility that as the Creator god of Teyvat, you might have some say in what happens in it. Maybe, just maybe… you were the reason Zhongli couldn't leave you alone.

If you liked him a normal amount, he would have no trouble escaping your gravitational pull, but your love for him was a little bit extra. If you wanted him to kiss you badly enough, he would probably have to. Whether he trips and falls on you at exactly the right angle for your lips to accidentally meet or he suddenly gets an unreasonably strong urge to push you against a wall and smother you was more-or-less a matter of execution.

Zhongli was a patient soul. His kiss was gentle and unrushed like he was, savoring the taste and sensation of your lips as he caressed them. At that moment, your respective identities melted away. His arms held your body against his chest, his hands cradled the back of your head, and his fingers buried themselves in your hair. The streets of Liyue faded from your ears. All you could hear was your rapidly beating heart.

The kiss repeated itself inside your head for hours on end, stealing your sleep even after you had retreated into your bed. It hadn't happened out of nowhere since you willed it to happen, but the question still plagued you. Did you take advantage of him? Could that kiss even be considered a kiss? How much intention was invested on his end and if you weren't the Creator god of Teyvat, would a kiss have ever happened between you? Probably not, you dejectedly concluded.

"I'm not the original Creator, Zhongli." You finally confessed to him after months of indulgence and pretending. He hummed softly as you drew circles on his skin.

"Your Grace…" Zhongli gazes at you with overflowing adoration. "I've known there was something different about you from the moment I laid eyes on you."

"You did?" You asked, shifting your weight as you laid on him. "What gave it away?"

The two of you had definitely gotten a lot more intimate following that first kiss. You felt at ease in his arms and so you found yourself constantly glued to him. His presence was magnetic to you and yours to him.

"You do a rather poor job of concealing your true self, I must say." He chuckled.

"I was half-expecting you to kill me or something as soon as you knew I wasn't the original Creator." You closed your eyes, letting your face rest against the curve of his neck as his fingers combed through your hair. The last of your worries were expelled with his words of reassurance.

"Now why would I do something so uncalled for? You've done nothing to warrant such harsh retaliation."

"I don't know. What if you saw me as a threat to Liyue? I saw what the Tianquan Ningguang did to the Lord of the Vortex when he reared his head. She definitely learned that from somewhere."

Despite Rex Lapis being dead, you could still feel the intense residual devotion this place had for their past archon. You wondered if he felt the same reverence for the Creator before you arrived. From your inherited memories, the original Creator had a habit of dropping pointy things from the sky.

"I will not harm you, nor will I ever allow the others to." He whispered, his every word carrying weight.

Upon arrival in Teyvat, you had made your rounds visiting the other nations and meeting with the other archons. To their disappointment, you never stayed for long. Your favoritism was undeniable. You had practically taken up root in Liyue. The only place you skipped was Fontaine, since it was probably a good idea to avoid the resident Hydro Sovereign in case he opted to take out his justice on you. You wondered if he'd believe you if you said you weren't the original Creator who sealed away his kind.

"Of course you won't." You murmured against his ear. "Even though I'm not the same person, I'm still the Creater and you're still an archon. You're bound by my will. If I tell you to go left, you're not able to go right."

"I am not a puppet, your Grace." He disagreed. "Neither is your will a leash."

"Kiss me." You ordered him. "Let's see if you've got it in you to disobey me."

He raised a brow at your choice of a challenge. A couple seconds of silence passed between the two of you. You began to wonder if Zhongli really could resist your will. Your eyes fell on his lips. They were relaxed, not pressed tightly against each other. Your thoughts drifted off to the handful of times he kissed you. His lips were always gentle whenever they brushed against yours. What would it be like he were swept up in a bit of fervor? Would he draw your lips harshly between his own, or would he part them impatiently so that he could slip his tongue in?

Your throat suddenly became drier than the deserts of Sumeru. A faint blush began to spread over your cheeks. Zhongli swallowed, but didn't move in the slightest. You were already beginning to feel hot and restless. Who were you kidding? The one with the figurative collar around their neck was obviously you. You knew that since before you got sucked into this game.

"You're really not going to kiss me." You realized.

"I am not immune to you any more than anyone else residing in Teyvat. I simply have self-restraint." He calmly says, which gets your blood boiling.

"Fine, you've got self-restraint. I don't!"

You playfully bit the man on the lip before kissing him with vengeance. He moaned softly as he endured your incense ministrations.

"Well demonstrated." He chuckled when you finally pulled away.

"Tease me again and I'll put a collar on you." You warned.

"If you wish to do so, it's within your divine right." He replied with utmost seriousness.

You treated him so differently from the original Creator. If he didn't occasionally remind himself that there were irrefutable differences between you and him, he feared he'd forget his place. You were most likely joking, but perhaps a collar was what he needed.

"Should I?" You continued on, unaware of what was going on in the archon's mind. "Imagine the esteemed Mr Zhongli, being dragged along the streets of Liyue in a collar and leash…"

"Perhaps we could forego the leash?" He smiled at you, unfazed as if what you had just imagined was nothing out of the ordinary.

You looked into the old god's eyes. In his unwavering gaze you could read everything he didn't say, the depth of his devotion to you, all the outrageous things you could ever think of asking from him and the resounding answer to all of them.

"I'll allow it." You relented.

As the primoridal god of Teyvat, you had to keep your archon in line. Since you said you'd punish him, you had to see to it that he was properly disciplined.

That very evening, you dragged the poor archon to a number of shops, jewelry stalls, and even a petshop. You settled on a black choker with fine gold threading that formed an intricate pattern. It was simplistic and went along well with his current suit. A single cor lapis pendant dangled from the center.

Currently, that pendant was caught between your lips as you straddled him. Since he said it was your divine right to do as you pleased with him, you wanted to see how far he'd let you go with that statement. The silk choker really did look good on him, especially after you've removed every other piece of clothing on his body. Your fingers danced along the edge of it, hooking underneath it and abruptly twisting it so that it tightened around his neck.

"Your Grace—" He coughed from lack of air.

With Zhongli's eyes blindfolded and his arms tied, he couldn't predict your movements nor interrupt you. He was completely at your mercy. You let go of the choker, returning the ability to breathe to him. As if to apologize for the distress caused, you leaned in and planted a kiss at his neck, the tip of your tongue gliding along the skin under the piece of fabric. He swallowed and panted, face flushed.

"See, it suits you." You cooed, tracing his collar with a finger. "Don't you dare take it off. If you do, I promise I'll get that leash. Maybe even a whip."

Zhongli winced in pain as you bit into his neck, drawing the heated skin between your lips. It'd be fine even if you left an unsightly mark. The choker would simply cover it, along with the faint lines caused by your tightening it around his neck.

At times, he wished they had lasted a little longer. All of them had faded too quickly. The burden of your love was quite heavy, but it was one he considered himself lucky to have been chosen to bear. You had chosen him to experience those moments with, each of them preserved in his memories like gilded gems.

In all his thousands of years of existence, the old god never foresaw a day where the missing primordial Creator he had been waiting so long for would return as a completely different person. Furthermore, he could never have forseen this new Creator would be so enamored with him. While he was reasonably honored to receive this disproportionate favor, he had initially suggested you visit the other archons more instead of spending all your time in Liyue with him. That would be fair, he told you. In hindsight, after your departure, he was glad you never listened. Few things in life were fair. Your untimely departure was far from that. The things you were killed for, none of them were your doing, but nobody believed you except him. Zhongli had paid the ultimate price for taking your side, for trying to keep you for just a moment longer. It was barely enough time to utter a proper goodbye. You were gone, just as abruptly as you had arrived.

If you had not given him so much of your precious time, what would he recount and reminisce over now that you're gone? What memories would sustain him until he reaches the end of time?

All he could do was continue living, witnessing, waiting, just as he did the first Creator. Perhaps one day you'd return to him. Perhaps you wouldn't, and yet again, it'd only be a stranger. Perhaps he'd tell them about you, just as he told you about the one that came before you.

His heart would constrict painfully at the thought and he would momentarily lose the ability to breathe just like when you would tighten the choker around his neck. He often found himself absent-mindedly toying with the collar. It remained snugly around his neck like he promised you. It was such a simple request, demanded so casually of him. To you, it might’ve been a joke. Perhaps you had long forgotten about that silk choker you picked out for him. Maybe you had forgotten about him altogether, along with this place called Teyvat. But he couldn't. Even after you had long departed from Teyvat, he had never taken it off. A few times he had to reinforce it with adeptal arts in order to keep it from disintegrating into dust over time. He couldn't possibly allow such a precious gift from you part from him out of carelessness. It was all he had left to remind him of the brief time you spent with him.

He couldn't quite place why of all the memories you had planted in him, those of nearly suffocating by the choker in your hand had seared themselves deepest. Was it because those were the rare moments he felt the sweet release of death was nearly within his grasp? Thinking of you instilled a similar sensation, but it was never the same as when you inflicted him with it. As someone who had lived for so long, who had orchestrated his own death and staged his own funeral, it was a strange obsession to have.

For those who live too long, the faces of those who have come and gone continue to haunt their memories. Even so, he never regretted meeting you, loving you, and eventually losing you. Should the day ever come that he forgets you, or the collar you gifted him finally turns to dust, he only hoped that your memories of him would continue to glimmer like gold.

[valzhanginator]

calypso having an emotion-centered character and being viewed & getting treated as the ‘evil woman’ is actually a reflection of how every woman's emotions are villainized when they’re shown vividly and are a main part of their character in popular media.

in general media and riordanverse specifically, women with emotions are always looked down upon because showing emotions is regarded as a dramatic act so when a female character shows and acts on their emotiotions they get degraded and instantly despised because of it. this is done with every single female character while male characters who show emotion are treated like saints and found worthy of self redemption. this happened with annabeth when she didn’t want to believe luke was the bad guy and wanted to try bring him back because she was manipulated by him her entire life, meanwhile luke, who did batshit crimes like causing hundreds of innocent deaths, manipulating little girls by flirting with them, admitting his crush to a 16 year-old at his ripe age of 23, is remembered as a hero and considered ‘redeemed himself’ after sacrificing himself while annabeth was called insufferable when she didn’t believe he was evil in the first place. let’s not forget piper, who’s a lesbian that was forced into a relationship with a man by a goddess and thought she was in the wrong for not feeling right with jason. during the entire relationship she was experiencing a very hard comphet and couldn’t figure herself out because of the fake memories, everybody was bashing her when she was acting confused, when she was, in fact confused. i have a longer post about this specific topic, so if you guys wanna check it out it’s right here. 

 coming back to calypso, first we need to clear out the misconceptions about her curse on percy that affected annabeth. she wasn't blind nor was personally attacking annabeth, her curse was to make someone feel like how she was feeling all time and that’s why percy and annabeth couldn’t reach out to one another while being right next to each other. annabeth’s blindness came from the titan she defeated in the sea of monsters and is actually the first curse to be put by the arai on them, so it has nothing to do with calypso. the curse was affecting annabeth because she happened to be the person percy loved and was right next to him. if percy was there alone either percy would feel alone and abandoned or the curse wouldn’t affect him at all, since there’s no person he can go back to save. and the curse itself wasn’t even a death wish type of curse she just wanted to be heard, be acknowledged and wanted free off her island. not to forget the curse wasn't harming or killing any of them yet it’s still demonized more than by literally every other thing that happened in the books. nothing luke has ever done is seen as evil as her curse just because it was by her and i’m pretty positive if something like this was shown in pjo by luke it would be glossed over and romanticized in the fandom. further proof of how a male character's actions get brushed off and forgiven easily but soon a female character does something even slightly questionable they get villainized on the spot.

she is also despised because she doesn't let everyone's favorite man get away with his misogynistic stuff. calypso doesn't treat leo any worse than he treats her. whenever she starts arguing it is a response to something leo has said or done, which in the most case she's in the right but leo gets so much slack from his past and being fandom favorite to be held accountable for the way he treats people. he's always been written as a misogynist, he never treated any women with any respect. he always had some sort of disrespect for every female character he seems have some sort of closure with like piper, hazel, calypso, the list goes on, but yet calypso is always expected to be more 'tolerable and understanding' bc of his trauma, as if every single character in the series isn't written upon a single trauma they had and have their character built on it. and he always had a problem dealing with others and their emotions and instead of expecting him to be working to change that, calypso is expected to adjust his manners.

oddly enough, she's also expected to show some gratitude towards leo for saving her, when she never asked him to do so and not for a second believed that he was actually going to come back when he said he would. is she grateful that he came back and freed her? yes. should she feel any obligations to make him feel greater because of it? NO. everything leo did for calypso was his and only his choice and nobody else's. calypso is happy that he did so, but expecting her to tolarate every single thing he does solely because of that is wrong.

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Sundown

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Ben shows his true colors

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Oh my god the violence. Violent is here. Im so sorry.

4.4k words

"I can picture every move that a man could make Getting lost in her loving is your first mistake Sundown, you better take care If I find you been creeping 'round my back stairs Sometimes I think it's a sin When I feel like I'm winning, when I'm losing again" ~Sundown, Gordon Lightfoot

Rey always had a way of making things better.

You were sat on the kitchen counter in a loose tank top and baggy shorts that may or may not be Will’s boxers, watching Ray cook for you an Iris. She’d been feeling unwell this morning, no doubt the stress of everything that happened the last few weeks getting to her normally impenetrable facade. You found out she caught the tail end of what Will did to Jonah. Now both of you had watched your fathers die.

But Rey had been emotional support to both of you. You leaned more on your husbands, but Rey gave a sense of normalcy. He was a lot like Ben, making it so you could let go of the guilt that plagued you constantly, clearing your mind of the swirling thoughts of Beatriz and Santiago’s true natures.

Will was safe. Protective and gentle and strong, he continued to dot on you, massaging vitamin c oil into your scars to reduce them now that they could take a little bit of pressure. Your healer, your guardian. You thanked him profusely for protecting you against Jonah’s attempt to rape you, even if parts of you still wished he wasn’t dead.

Francisco was who you were the most honest with. You could tell him how you felt about Santiago and Beatriz, work out your confusing thoughts in soft whispers when you were with only him. Santiago never let Francisco sleep with you anymore at night.  

Walking past you to open the oven, he gave your hand a squeeze, lingering a bit. There was nothing romantic or sexual about it; he just wanted you to feel better. To know he was there. He was better than this place, you knew now. Better than this world.

“Madonna! There you are!” Ben rushes in with Will behind him, reaching for you. “Christ! I was worried!”

You’re a bit shocked, but can’t help sliding into his arms. “What do you mean? I’m right here…”

Ben holds you close, your body pressed against his, skin to skin making you cringe. It wasn’t him, it was the idea of touch lately at all. 

Will clarified. “You said you were going to be in the garden, we were worried when we didn’t see you.”

You try to squirm out of Ben’s arms. His grip is hard and uncomfortable… he’s too close. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just- ow, Ben- I didn’t think I needed to let you know? I never did before… Ben, please-” He’s kissing you now, your cheek, your neck, your lips… you don’t want Rey and Iris to see you like this… You hear Iris say something, but can’t quite make it out.

“That was before. With everything that’s happened, Jonah, the assasination attempt, we need to know where you are, always.” You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in front of Iris. You didn’t like him talking about Jonah in general. You squirm and try to dodge his kisses.

He rubs against the deepest burn on your belly, making you whimper, trying to push him away. Memories of Jonah’s attack flash in your hands, and suddenly he’s pulled off you. You think for a moment it’s Will, but you see Ben’s blonde hair fisted in Iris’s hand.

“She said stop!” Iris yanks him away and horror drops in your stomach. Ben wouldn’t hurt her, no, you didn’t need to worry, Ben was loving, fun, sunshine- He swung, clocking Iris on the jaw.

What happened next was a blur. Reyansh was on Ben is a second, a rage you’d never seen from your sweet guard before, and the two rays of sunshine throwing hands. Reyansh is slammed against the wall and you shout, wanting to run to him but before you even move Will’s hand is on your wrist. You watch two men you love beating on each other, Rey kneeing Ben in the balls and throwing him to the ground where he momentarily had the advantage. Ben, however, gripped Rey’s hair and used the momentum to roll their bodies over so Ben was on top. You’d seen Ben use the same move during sex. 

“WILL! DO SOMETHING!” You scream, watching them hurt each other but Ben with the clear advantage. Still, all he does is hold you back, fingers stroking your hair in an attempt to placate you, but you can’t stand by… still, you can’t get in the middle of a bloody fist fight, especially after watching Jonah die… why couldn’t Will step in when he clearly had the strength to? Ben has the upper hand, and looks like he’s close to killing rey the way Jonah died.

You see Iris make a move to get Ben off him, and Francisco who was previously frozen in shock runs to her. She tried to get out of his grasp, but he simply pushes her away and tackles Ben down. Francisco uses his weight to pin him, using a soothing voice to try and calm the fit. You yank your hand, hand, releasing it from Will’s grasp and painfully pulling on the burnt skin but you needed to get to Rey. Iris pulls his head on her lap, and he spits out some blood onto her dress but gives his girl a weak smile.

“You alright, my love?” He asks her, despite you cleaning blood off his face and her seeming unharmed.

She chuckles, crying but gives him a smile as well. “I’m alright, baby. I’m alright.”

Will is standing above you. You see Ben and Francisco are rising now, Frankie still holding Ben.

“What the hell was that, Saha!”

Rey doesn’t dignify Will with an answer, but you turn to him, giving a little bite to your tone. 

“He was defending his girl, Will. You’d done the same for me.”

“Madonna…” He warning in a stern voice, one that made you feel like a child being admonished by a house mother again. “He is a guardsmen, sworn to protect us, not throw punch-”

You looked up at him again, snapping. “He hit Iris!”

Ben chimed in with a ‘She hurt me first!’ but Will ignored him. “She involved herself in something she had no business to.”

“But Ben!-” You were cut off my Iris whispering your name. Her eyes were fearful… and you realize they held the same glint as when you caught her and Ben together… She mouthed, ‘don’t.’

Your eyes never leave hers. “Well, she’s my friend and he’s my personal guard so she’s under my protection.”

Fracicsco’s arms pull you, careful not to touch your sensitive parts. He’s telling you to go, but you worry for Rey and Iris.

“Will, you can’t hurt them, please?”

“I’m not-”

“But you are!” You pull at Francisco’s hand. “You are, because they hurt Ben but please! Don’t!”

Will sighs, shoulders relaxing down as he decides not to lie. “Madonna, they have to be punished. I promise it won’t be harsh.” His blue eyes look remorseful and honest, like he’s resigned to his duties. You trust he wouldn’t be unnecessarily cruel and you knew punishment was important in corrections… but this was Rey and Iris, your friends… Rey, who had only ever loved and protected you. Iris, despite everything, she took care of you. 

This time when you pull your arm Francisco lets go, and you rush to Will. You reach for his face, cupping it as you stare into his eyes. Will’s expression was soft, indulgent. He was listening. “Look at him, Will.” You gesture to where Reyansh still bloodied Iris’s skirts. “They both got hit, and Rey took enough for both, don’t you think?”

He seemed sympathetic to the pain Rey was in. “That’s the natural consequence of a fight, Madonna. I need to punish them properly, according to our rules.”

Tears fill your eyes and you hear Ben grumble, Francisco shushing him. “My husband, my love…” You beg him in choked words. You try to appeal to his sense of ownership over Rey and the guards. “He’s your guard, and someone hurt him… can’t we just call it even? Please?”

“No, Madonna.”

Rey coughs from the ground below you, trying to sit up. “I can take it, Will. Just don’t hurt Iris.”

With that, Will’s face shifts. This pulls at something and you take it. “He was just trying to protect her! You’d do the same if anyone hit me, Will, please you killed a man for me, you killed Melanie for me, I know you understand…” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles that were still healing for beating Jonah to death. “Please… there's been so much pain here this week… I promise, I promise they learned.”

Ben must've seen Will considering, because he spoke. “Don’t let them get away with it, that bitch put her hands on me!”

His language shocked you, never hearing him talk like that, and Francisco saw the look in your eyes. “Will, c’mon… I think his nose is broken… and Iris just lost her dad… Madonna is under a lot of stress, don’t give her more.”

Finally, Will sighs despite Ben’s protests. He walks over to where Iris and Rey sit and helps them both up. “Go.” He says to Iris. “You can use my medicine closet. Patch him up. I expect him back on duty tonight.”

“Will! What the hell!” Ben shouts but you run up to Will, giving him a short peck on the cheek and whispering thank you.

Will tells Ben to fuck off, and goes to unlock his medicine for Reyansh. Iris turns and gives you a smile. 

“You just like to touch everyone but me, don’t you?” Ben’s words shock you back to reality.

“What? Ben… it’s not…” You reach for Francisco’s hand for security as he admonishes Ben, but he continues.

“You kiss Will, and I see you holding Saha’s hand, and now Frankie? But don’t think I’ve noticed you havn’t fucked me!”

“Benjamin!” Francisco shouts as you shrink at Ben’s words. He’s never spoken to you like this, and you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him angry, certainly not at you. “She’s had a traumatic months for fucks sake! Between Santi and Jonah can you go without pussy for a few fucking days?”

“I don’t know Frank, can you go without Santi’s dick in your ass for more than a few days?”

For the next several minutes, the two argued, exchanging heated words and painful secrets. You’d learned Francisco fucks Santiago every night, and the dark spots on his neck were from the husband who’d burned you alive. You learned Ben was sleeping with half of delta still. You learned there was a whole word that existed between the four of them that not only happened before you, but existed outside of you. You thought you were the nucleus holding them together. Instead, you were just the meal they feasted on.

*

You were finally well enough for him to take you on the horse, a careful walk, out to your meadows again. By now, you were too big to straddle him with his cock inside you and your skin and belly couldn’t bear his body against you. So, as you watched him set up the blanket, you knew you’d miss the feeling of napping in the warm sun with his cock stretching you.

“C’mere, baby.” Francisco helps you sit and then lay down, pulling you close with you using his meaty arm as a pillow.

“I miss you.” You mutter, and he kisses your neck.

His hand holds your stomach, feeling your baby kick. “I’m right here”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

There was silence for a moment, letting the birds sing and breeze below through the rustling grass. It was so nice out, and you were thankful for your skimpy dress. You are reminded of all the times you laid here, endless hours making him flower crowns, braiding the little ones into his hair, kissing him, napping… all while he’s stuffed inside you, your skirt spread around your thighs. How many times has Jonah seen you like this? Had he watched from the trees as you fucked in languid strokes, not even trying to cum but just to feel him bucking into you? 

Or when Santiago had tripped you, burning your cothes off, fucking you by the fire… had Jonah stood and watched? Had he taken in the view, his own pornography, before helping you? Or when Francisco finger fucked you on the horse, had he savored your sweet sounds and memorized them for nights alone with his fist? How long had he wanted you? How long had he taken even innocent moments and turned them into something vile? 

You felt Francisco’s hard cock nestled between your ass cheeks, and by instinct you scoot away just a tiny bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry Madonna I’m not trying too- I don’t know why-”

“It’s okay.” No one had been inside you since Jonah’s attempt, you barely let them touch you… but you had to trust Francisco, right? He was good. He was so, so good. “It’s… it’s okay…”

The feeling of him shaking his head russells your hair. “No, no love, it’s not…” He’s pulling back from you and you miss the warmth of his body so you reach back and grab him. 

“I miss you…” You choke out. “I miss feeling you inside me… I miss you… please? I want you so bad, Francisco.”

“Baby…” He caresses you cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve been through a lot…”

“And I don’t want it to change us. Santiago, Jonah… I won’t let them tear us apart…”

He kisses the back of your head. “They won’t. I won’t ever let that happen. You are more important than them.”

It slips out before you can stop. “Am I more important than Ben?”

“I love you.”

You don’t have it in you to press further, instead you arch your back so that your ass brushes against his cock in his pants. “So much has happened… I need this… I need to know you still love me.”

He sighs, stating firmly. “I do love you…” but he moved to unbuckle his pants. You wished you could see him, you wished you could see the way his belly folded over his jeans. You wished you could run your hands over the skin and feel the hair on his chest. But you weren’t ready for that. Instead you just relaxed into his arms, relaxed into him, his safety, his protection. When he pushes your skirt up, his hands are large over your asscheeks and you enjoy feeling covered by him. When he slides in, your body makes room for the familiar feeling.

“Do you want me to make love to you? Or do you just want me inside?”

“Make love, please…”

A gentle kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you.”

*

Sliding inside you once again, Frankie felt a homecoming. He loved the long hours you and him would spend here, cumming inside you multiple times but keeping you plugged up with his cum. He wished he hadn’t wasted so much time getting inside you properly, loving you the way you wanted to… he would have knocked you up first if he’d been going at this rate… but now, the odds weren’t in his favor.

Frankie revelled in the sound of your mewling, soft and tender like a little kitten… his to protect. As he slowly thrust into you, he vowed he wouldn’t let anyon hurt you again. He needed to talk to Ben, to Will… he needed them to get on board. You clearly cared for Iris and Rey and they cared for you, so he needed to make sure they were protected. Ben had been sneaking out more, going into the community to presumably fuck some other young niave thing… but a rule had been laid about Iris. The fact she was fucking him had been out of her character anyway, but it was over now.

Ben needed to stop sleeping with everyone he could get his hands on, and he needed to respect Madonna’s personal space and boundaries. He was not entitled to her body, especially after all this happened.

Looking up the hill and into the trees, Francisco saw Ben. He stood tall, a scowl on his face; he didn’t like that he got to be inside you.

Francisco sped up his movements, fucking up into you and making you cry out in pleasure. You were unaware of your audience. He never let up eye contact as he rammed his cock into your core and pressed you close to him. His hands felt you up, showing Ben what he was missing. Sitting atop his horse, Francisco watched as Benjamin pulled out his dick and began stroking himself furiously. It was a scramble after that, Frankie wanting you to cum before Ben did, to ruin his little show but still show off what Frankie could do, the sounds you could make. 

“Francisco…” You whine, and he buries his face in your neck after checking your eyes were still closed, lost in pleasure.

“I’m right here, Madonna. Always right here…” His longer fingers swirled your clit, and he knew you were close by the way you were clenching down hard. Perfect, you were perfect. Your body shook in his arms as he filled you, the sweet sounds of your orgasm echoing through the meadow valleys and hills and up to Ben’s ears. Francisco didn’t see if he came; he didn’t care anymore. He needed to take care of his Madonna, for suddenly you were crying.

“I wish it was you.” You sob into his sleeved up arm. He was thankful today didn’t require undressing. He didn’t want to have to explain the cuts. 

“What do you-”

“The baby! I wish it was yours!”

He brushes a stray lock out of your face as he attempts to sooth you. “May it is… we don’t know…”

“It’s not.” You shake your head. “It’s Will or Bens. I just know it. Those first months, you barely touched me, and after I fail the first time Santiago only touched me once a night!” The way you had switched from Pope to Santiago was not lost on him. “It’s one of them!”

“Is that a bad thing? They’ll love that baby too, just like I will.”

“SANTIAGO WILL KILL ME!”

You explained yourself then, what Santi said. How he threatened you. You had one job, according to him, and that was to get pregnant. It wasn’t suppossed to matter if it was by the Millers, by Santi or himself… but of course, of course Santi had to fuck with you more, because it isn’t really about the savior for Santi.

It’s about Frankie.

*

It had been a few days and Rey’s face looked awful. He had definitely broken his nose, bruising showing deeply despite his brown skin. 

“I’m fine, swear to the gods.” He promises after catching you staring at his face. 

“Your eye is almost swollen shut.”

“Like I said, totally fine.” he jokes and you give him a little kick from where you sat on the counter. Iris was feeling sick so Rey and you were taking over cooking dinner. The pineapple upside down cake was in the oven, and Rey was working on the main dish right now. 

He watched you watching him, hesitating before he spoke, his tone more sololm than you were used to. “If you could leave… would you?” He watches your eyes go wide, so he rushed to explain more. “You’re pregnant with the savior, there's nothing that says he needs to be raised here! You told me yourself, Beatriz was evil, Santi… sweetie c’mon he threatened you if the baby is blonde! What if he kills the savior when they are born?”

“Rey!” You whisper harshly. “You’re talking heresy!” Your eyes are wide.

He chuckles tiredly. “We crossed that line a while ago… Listen… I know you love that baby, I know you want them to grow up safe and happy but that can’t be here. You’re husbands, they are batship insane and you know it.”

“No.” You shake your head, refusing to accept it. “No, it’s just… Santi, I think he needs help… I can help him, I can make him a better-”

Reyansh grips your shoulders now, an intensity you weren’t expecting. “No! You can’t! It's not just you, you have to realize that. He didn’t hurt you because you did anything wrong. You take off Frankie’s shirt right now and you’ll see a fucking masscure because he’s fucking losing it! He’s dangerous! And Ben, he-”

 Reyansh stops, voice cracking and you notice the wetness of his eyes. The pain is etched into every line on his young face. “He rapes my wife. My beautiful, precious wife- he… and I didn’t know, this whole time I had no idea what he’s been doing to her…” You can see he’s crying now, and you’re frozen in fear, reaching for his wet face. “I just let it happen this whole time but now I know the truth, and it’s not happening again and I can’t bear to see you get hurt again. I’m gonna get her out, and I want you to come. I don’t want to leave you here but… I have to protect my family. I want that family to mean you too, anuja.”

There was so much to process here, your mind was whirling from everything you were told, but the idea of Iris and Ben… Did you walk in on her being raped by your husband? Had Ben truly tried to get you in on it, to kiss and touch her while she was raped? To make you an accomplice in his crimes? You think of how she looked at you… fuck, how could you not see it? How did you think she was willingly a part of it when it was clear she loved Reyansh? And you treated her so horrible after…

“I’m gonna be sick.” 

Your head spins, and Rey wraps his arms around to set your feet on the floor again. The hand that gently touched his wet, bearded cheek now was on his shoulder to steady yourself as he slid you down from the counter. His arms firm but chaste around you as he pressed against the marble.

“Hey take a deep breath-” His face was ripped away from you, eyes wide as Rey was pulled back by his hair. Then, before you can react, his already bruised head is slammed into the corner of the countertop.

He begins screaming and you do too. 

You can see Santiago in the doorway, but he makes no attempt to stop the events unfolding in front of you, does nothing as Ben grabs the kitchen knife and throws it directly into Reyansh’s chest where he lay in agony. The scene has begun to garner a crowd, Frankie running in at the sounds of your screams but freezes in shock as blood files the kitchen once again.

“BEN! STOP!!!” You scream, but Ben’s eyes are crazed and he’s screaming at Rey not to touch you.

You aren’t sure the exact moment his eyes go dead and body falls limp, no longer reacting to the mass of stabs Ben continues to inflict, but you know it’s already too late when Iris bursts in, screaming her lover’s name. When she runs to where Ben is slowing down, straddling over your best friend’s dead body, Francisco reacts quickly, scooping her up and grabbing Iris’s arms behind her back. 

“REY! REY! REY!” Iris screams non stop, fighting to get out of Francisco’s grasp as he tells her it’s too dangerous. 

Finally, Ben falls over, panting in exhaustion. He throws up on the floor and you realize he’s drunk. The smells of vomit mixes with copper in the the room as the fluids run together. You are barely standing, knees weak, palms sweaty, unable to process what you’ve seen as Ben stands up and stumbles towards you. Will is in the room now, taking it all in, muttering ‘jesus christ Benny… what did you do…’

But walks towards you, a bright smile of white teeth a strange flash of color among the red covering his face. Red. He’s covered in Reyansh’s blood.

“Hey baby, wanna give me a kiss?”

Ben is pulled away from you.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Francisco screams to him and you slide to the ground.

“He was touching her!” Ben tries to defend, but francisco is infuriated. He shoved Ben away, moving him to the door. On the ground, Iris is desperately trying to get Rey to come alive. The shakes, the touches to his face, the wretched sobs and ugly cries do nothing as he lays limp in her arms.

“FUCK YOU BENNY! HE WAS HER FRIEND! HE WAS MINE!” Francisco shoves him hard, making Ben stumble into Santiago.

Will steps up, gathering his fist in Francisco’s shirt. “Hey! Keep your fucking hands off him!” In which Santiago steps in and says something similar to Will. They begin to argue and fight and scream at each other; you are left on the floor, inconsequential. When you have the courage to look at Rey’s mangled corpse again, you gather the courage to crawl to him. Up close, the carnage in unbelievable.

There are massive gashes in him, holes in his body you can’t believe he had the strength and rage to go that hard into so many times. A stabwound in his eye.  A hole in his cheek.

“Rey…” You sob, reaching out for your bloodied friend. The door shuts behind you and you aren’t sure whose left. “Im so sorry, I’m so, so-”

Iris shoves you backwards, forcing you to fall softly on your butt. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” She screams at you, and you sit in shock. She’s never spoken to you like this.

“Iris-”

“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE DANGEROUS TERRITORY!”

Francisco’s arms are around you, a feeling you’d recognize instantly. “I D-didn’t- I did mean-”

“You NEVER DO!” Her eyes are vicious, a fury that far surpassed anything you’ve ever seen in your life. “You are so goddamn stupid, walzing around here like you live in  FUCKING FARIE TALE and leave a trail of dead bodies behind you! You dad, Jonah, and now YOU HAD TO GET MY REY KILLED!”

You are speechless. She’s right. Everything is your fault. Jonah said your dad just wanted a better life for you… was that drive the reason the uprising started? Was the death of him, Deacon Tom, Delilah and all the rebels your fault? She had said she didn’t blame you for Jonah… but now her voice joins the chores of everyone else in your life… it was all your fault.

Francisco picks you up.

I'm so sorry

Months and months ago while constructing this story, I had a friend i was working on it a lot with. She had a big hand in creating Iris and Rey. The entire time, before it was entirely planned out even, I knew he was going to die. I knew there was no happy ending to be had for Iris and Reyansh. And that made some scenes very hard too write. Rey didn't deserve any of it. He was a good man who loved his "wife." (not legally married bc cult stuff but in all the ways that matter, they were.)

There is no going back from this now. Madonna is shown who Ben and Santi are.

The last poll i fucked up! It was suppossed to be who does BEN love most lol

Save the children (which has absolutely nothing to do with QAnon who hijacked their hashtag) our currently supporting relief efforts in the Congo above our listed some quick facts that I hope you’ll take a moment to read, and if you can afford it, please consider making a donation. I have made a small one, but if we band together small donations make a difference

64.media.tumblr.com

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

Tags are working like SHIT these days for me and many, many others so make sure to follo wthe rooms on fire tag or my update account.

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa @mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5 @guelyury @readingiskeepingmegoing

[dreaming-of-barbi]

That's so fucked up that people are romantizing Franco, because even Red Barrels are showing him as a total creep and disgusting person. In Outlast Tag I have a feeling that some artists are making him completly different character, making him charming/safe/lovely. I even have seen some people who were drawing him with normal face (without big forehead) and you couldn't tell them that it's the right character design! I feel like Franco enjoyers are more agressive than fans of other Outlast character. Even with Coyle/Eddie simps they seem to understand that they are evil and they murder others, but with Franco I feel like they can take it when someone tell them that he's grown up, murder people in very brutal way and his voice lines are just disgusting... it really seems that people are getting agressive only because someone tell some shit about 🎀✨️Franco🎀✨️. I know his fans isn't the only one that have stick in their ass (cause I seen a lot of shit bout Coyle/Big Grunts/Easterman etc.) but yall need to understand that FRANCO IS A GROWN ASS MAN and you would run for your life if you'd meet someone in irl as 1% fucked up as he is. Saying that he's just a Baby and he made nothing wrong is just 🤮 and problem is in yall if you justificate him and things he made.

idk how to tell you this ,,,, but this game is fictional. The characters are fictional. You're free to feel however you want about them, just like I and anyone else is.

I partially agree with the part about changing his appearance to make him look more "normal" or whatever, but at the same time people are allowed to interpret their favs however they want to. They can draw / write for him however they want to. I don't like "fixing" his face, just because it (personally) feels like saying "he's too ugly", but again, that's just me. As an artist, I know that people are going to have different interpretations of a character I like. It's just part of other people existing in the world. Not everyone thinks like you do, and that's okay.

Do you know how many posts I saw (and STILL see) about Eddie Gluskin, doing essentially the same thing as what you said people do with Franco?? That man would cut you open to "make a baby in you" no hesitation and people still ""romanticize"" him (me fuckin included I LOVE YOU EDDIE). Its just part of liking fucked up characters, some people are going to want to make them more "normal".

Personally, I see the normalization as more like wanting to give him some normalcy in his life, because of his past / lore. I love the idea of letting Franco have a normal life, be a normal person. A life where he never had to deal with the stupid Mafia stuff, had a decent father and never ran into Murkoff, having a normal, happy life. But, I also seriously adore his original, fucked up character.

Honestly, who actually cares if people are "justifying" his actions??? None of them are real. He is not real. I have never understood the sentiment that you have to make sure people know you don't justify a fictional characters actions... they are not real. It's not a real person. None of the things he did happened.

Maybe it's just me, but I would not run from someone like him. That's not some edge lord "im so evil and dark" bs but because of my real life experiences. Been with and around people in my life / family who are quite like him and I didn't run.

I imagine some of us are using it as a sort of coping mechanism, because (at least for me) some of us dealt with people who treated us like he would. Though, that's getting into personal territory, and I won't try and speak for others.

All I can really say is either learn that not everybody's going to have the same ideas as you or block the tag. Sorry if that's too harsh a response, but life is too short to really give that much of a fuck about someone /something other people like.

And I've said this before but this is literally Outlast, all of the characters are this fucked up, it's not just him.

Like does no one remember Outlast 2??? Does no one remember the pile of dead burnt babies, or the hundreds of other fucked up things in that game?? I really feel like Franco does not compare.

So, can we please just be over with this now? I mean, drama is totally fun and I love it, but I can imagine others don't.

[fawnpires]

HOW TO DISAPPEAR — CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ synopsis: after a failed attempt at a date, you unexpectedly find yourself in the hands of comfort of your dormmate, (also known as your captain.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: bits of angst, age difference, comfort sex, body worship, praise kink, soft dom!price, vaginal fingering, size difference, size kink, just a whole lot of filth, grinding, overstimulation, daddy kink, missionary position, reader is described as feminine (descriptions of feminine clothes, anatomy.)

Provided with an interval of short respite, you find yourself in a situation; one that you would've never expected to end up in, much in similarity to a fly tangled in a spider's web. You in contrast to the fly, you're meet-up date the spider. As weird as the analogy was, it was the best description to fit whatever you were in. Drifted mid-thigh dress, Mary-Jane platformed heels, and an elegant touch to your appearance — a noticeable separation between your standard uniform attire and skin constantly caked in dirt and some drying blood originated from a concluded expedition. You'd been granted permission to be let off base for the night, just for this single opportunity.

A few miles away from base, in some settled town, there you stood in front of an entrance to a restaurant. Lip of your bottom lip chewed from your top row of teeth, the stinging cold of the wind blowing directly at your face each time you watched either sides of the sidewalk for the man. Sparks of anticipation raged at your chest in hopes for him to arrive.

Fifteen minutes, then thirty, then a hour. A second passing of that first hour.

You leaned up against the tile of the building, slumped and at a loss of confidence of him showing up. Perhaps it was the unsolicited consequences of your actions, having been warned by your peers days prior. Cautionary pieces of advice on how the guy could be a complete fraud — you having been fallen victim like the many other girls he had in the centers of his palms, tearing their hopes down and slaughtering their hearts apart. Naivety had got the best to you for this — immediate regret flooding.

A majority of guys were assholes. That was that, nothing more. Nothing practical, and no explanations to further expand into the subject matter. They possessed the kind of crudity, a sense of vulgarness that was nothing but mere torture — burying their teeth into people most sensitive to vulnerability, dismantling of their emotions. Warning signs came at you all at once and you do what you do best; be entirely oblivious to it, look past it and push on with your romanticized scenarios of the worst.

You had a terrible habit of doing that — being unsophisticated to new things. You loathed it, and wished you could overcome it but somehow; you just never do, never learn from your own tragedies. And it had just happened again on this particular night, one full of hope and keenness, now drained out and wrung of it. On the surface, you’re a solely normal girl. But if someone were to really reach down and observe your mentality in this moment, oh, how corrupt they’ll view you as. Corrupted. Heartbroken.

A deeper chew into your lip distracts you. From the tears that are right about to drip from your glossy eyes, that is. Another distraction is the bone of your thumb sliding across the screen of your mobile, alternating between multiple kinds of screens — waiting for a singular apology, some kind of notice from the man. The sight was humiliating to be in position, to you, at least; slumping at the wall of some restaurant, on the brink of the tears just because of one guy who wouldn’t give his presence to you. Fucking humiliating, you think, peering at the void of screen — sauntering away from under the restaurant’s porch and onto the sidewalk.

Chime.

Through a glassy vision, you examine the illuminated screen; white and blaring with a single slab of a message punctured right in the center. You're quick to press an index finger to the message, an eagerness — not too hopeful, not too built-up — risen to your chest. Right, don't get that eagerness up. If you squint through the pooling tears, it's not a formatted text, but a single photo attachment right in place of the chatroom (blurry resolution, a presumed accidental send right to you).

While you look more into the attachment, it just garners more and more of your attention. Nothing of the real world is real to you. Only that specific file.

You feel a swell of more humiliation rush to your face, bleeding of a scorching warmth while more tears just threaten to fall down your already-stained cheeks. None of it was a pleasure to see — a girl in the image pressed up against him — shoved right to your face. Jealousy wasn't the correct terminology, but provoked? That definitely was. Processing the image, a new message forms right underneath it — as if more of your reality couldn't come crumbling down within this night.

Wrong person, didn't mean to send.

His message makes you delirious, nearly driven to the borderline of hysteria — because, fuck, was he a jackass.

Found another girl, much prettier than you. You're nothing but an easy whore, easy to please, I never wanted to meet up with your slut ass anyways.

The final message of his shreds your heart to pieces, a pile of shattered fragments while the text replays in the back of your head; easy whore, slut ass, amateur insults you've heard frequently — but it clings to you so easily, weighing you down like a pathetic mass that is near-impossible to rid of. With a combination of pathetic weight, degrading names, and your heart burst into portions — you could only help yourself to cry; silently sob into the heel of your palms while you speed walk up the slope of the sidewalk. Sweaty, ruined, and teary-eyed — who knew you were so easy to break with a couple of shaming messages and a stood-up date?

By the time you've practically hiked up a few couple of roads and hills, the pain of the route wasn't the only thing that was causing a repeated ache in yourself — a reminder to never wear heels to a faraway date. Mascara ran down in gray-ish streaks with your pristine tears, the sniffling of your nose amid the quietude of the nearing midnight. The structure of base comes into view, a few windows of light plastered onto the colossal build; it's an abnormally comforting sight, one that you've grown used to — you could consider it home, somehow, in a strange way.

Carefully, quietly, you enter through the roofed front entrance and curve the usual course to the third floor — where your shared room was located. The halls were quiet, dimly lit with a disgustingly bright light of a tinted yellow. Some rookies were outside their doors chatting, greeting you as you somberly walked through the halls with a depressing greet back to them; through the sorrow, you still had conjured up formality. Weakly, you push on the solid matter of your dormitory room and close it behind you — the hallway light no longer spilling on the insides, shrouding you in a darkness that can only be eliminated with a glimpse of moonlight peeking through the curtains right between you and Price's mattress.

Staggering over to the edge of your own bed, you slouch down and tore your platforms off, legs to your chest while your face pressed to the patches of your knees. Aware that your captain had been knocked cold in a deep slumber a few feet away from you — you give an attempt to muffle your cries that were increasing in volume, some even gliding through the attempts and into the atmosphere. Just as you were about to give up as a whole to even try to lower your noises of misery; a lamp clicks on, filling the room with a burst of a glow, Price is positioned in a half-laid figure — muscle-tight white t-shirt, visible gray sweatpants under the thinning of his blanket, a mess of his darkened brunette hair, and his thick beard aligning the strong outline of his jaw.

He squints, then widens his eyes up to the sight, elevating more of himself up to where he sat on the edge of his bed — strong legs dangling off the cliff of the mattress.

"Christ, kid," His voice raspy, as if it ran across gravel, "What time did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago." you reply, still teared.

A smidge of concern is what he indulges himself in; the concern of your circumstances, and oddly enough — your own wellbeing. His eyebrows crook downwards in consideration, hoisting his athletic build off his bed, and he wanders over right to the own foam of your mattress. The foam right next to you slumps, heavily and in weight, his eyes delayed right set on you before they settle on his lap where his knuckles fold in a form.

"Thought you would be home much later. Tomorrow," He utters, thumbs twiddling in circles. "- And apologies if that's a bit intrusive. But-" he interrupts himself, sure that the topic would be too uncomfortable to speak on with a sudden upbringing, changing up. "You're crying, you're home early, so somethin' must've happened."

It was a polite nag — and it was unusual for your superior to show such sympathy right to you. Eased, you touch up on with his eye contact. He's not afraid of the embarrassment of staring, unlike you; damning yourself for being so meek. And you instead focus on the small wrinkles that touch at the skin around his cobalt irises with white, the stubble of his heavy beard, and the straight line of his pressed lips.

"I don't want to..." you trail off, impassive. "You know, put too much on you. It's way too late anyways, past midnight."

"Enlighten me." he assures, leaning to close more gap of space.

On his word and permission, your nails dig into the flesh of your exposed thighs under the skirt. It was sweet of him to offer a session of consolation, you thought — even if the slightest mention of the sensitive-touched subject was sufficient to your heart recycling that intolerable ache of shattering. But you gave into the man anyways, pouring your all right into him.

"Guy was a complete asshole, nothing more." You started off with a cruel remark. "Stood me up at that place we were supposed to meet-up at... you paused to take a chew of your bottom lip to prevent the tears, then finish; "...then he called me a whole load of nicknames — slut, whore — after he sent me a picture of him at a bar, with another girl."

His eyebrows no longer furrow, but slant in a condolence. The large palm of his hand rests at your back, patting at the cloth, while you couldn't help but bring yourself to embed your head into the white of his shirt — leaning yourself into him, both arms of muscle clamping around you and holding you tight. Tears inaudibly discolor the white cloth into a lighter gray, throat closing in on itself as it gradually grew harder to breathe.

"Sounds like a fuckin' slag to me," He melts into the embrace of your arms wrapping around his torso, tugging at his shirt. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am."

Sweetheart. Your heart throbs out of the ache, in a sheepish flattery at the term.

"John?" You ask. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

You pull yourself away from him, but keep your arms wrapped at his torso and your head at his shoulder blade. "Why are you being so nice to me?" the question of yours drags further on. "- never seen you this sympathetic to the rest of the rookies."

"Rookie? You aren't no rookie, kid." He said, taking your hands in his and keeping your wrists imprisoned in fists. "I can promise you that, you're considered one of the elite." he confesses, "And whatever that bastard told you is entirely wrong. He doesn't know you, really know you — he doesn't know you like I do."

Tension bred between you and him. With this input tension, he almost seemed like a whole new hollow of a person. Peculiar man. His words had an undertone of possessiveness to them — you didn't know if it had intended, or it had just came out in a way that you took as wrong; but it was wedged right in there, it had to be. In the juncture, he wasn't your superior, your ordering captain of an intimidating identity and wielded of firearms — but a man. A real, authentic, man clustered into a realistic wheel of pure emotions that you've grown a strange bond towards; like a quickly-developed bond out of the warfare.

He's a distraction. A pleasant distraction. Him and the conversation steers you away from your provisional depression, deteriorating it down to the backgrounds of your head. And you love it — every single minute that it consumes; and you love the way one of his hands palm at your thighs and brush up-and-down at the skin. Your hands in which encircle at his torso now rest at the front of hist chest, balling up the thinning fabric of his shirt, a breath hitching at his touch while you lean back by a few inches as both palms are now resting at your naked thighs.

One of his rested hands come to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in to feel his heavy breaths on the skin of your face. You alternate between his drowsy eyes of full lids and silk lips that bare only a minimum view of teeth; before you know it, those pairs of lipped silk on your own — finding purchase in clutching his shirt harder, more compulsion. His remaining hand at your thigh snakes to your waist during the kiss, manhandling you onto his lap. Your legs dangle off the sides, hands cupping at his face and pressing fingers into the scratch of his beard.

No longer a distraction he was but ashamed. Wanting to break off those plush lips of yours; resign off his position as captain, never to catch you in his sights again. But he just couldn't, devoted to entire being and after months of eyeing you around the barracks and missions — he had you right where he wanted you, pretty little thing right on his lap, the curve of your neck bent to slope your head down to press your lips to his.

Nothing wrong about it in these areas of pleasure, at least in his own set of minds.

He admires your anatomy through half-lid lenses; how your shut lashes curled to the upper section of your eye, the soft nudge of your nose to his, the exclusive shape of your face. His cradling hand favors almost the entire expanse of your head, locks intertwined between the slits of his thick fingers. Smacks of lips and grinding, a stir of unadulterated ecstasy, currents of shocks running along your spine — you worship everything about it, because it's a kind of a one-time thing, so sparse — quickly paced, (Although from now on, it might be something more of a complete thing with him).

"Never told me how good you could taste, darling," he rasps between kisses, "- and to believe you've been hidin' this from me all these months."

A few pants puff from your lips to his. "Wanted to, but didn't know if you wanted it."

"If I knew it felt like this, then I'd damned myself for not giving it a shot."

"I've wanted you for long." your words drag into a whine.

"Yeah? How long have you, honey?" he inquires, kissing along your jaw to give some breathing space in the mean time. "Want to hear you say it for me, come on."

You bite your lip, tilting your head back to grant more access for his lips to implant themselves on your flesh. "Even when I was still messaging that guy," you gasp on your words when he bites at your neck, tongue lapping at the mark. "I couldn't help but think of you. Pretended it was you telling me all of those dirtiest things, calling me your sweetheart, your girl..."

Your revelation stuns him back, kissing a particular patch of skin harsher when the words choke out from you — your hips grinding rougher into his crotch, hands on his chest tugging at his shirt, back formed in an arch.

"You never really wanted that man, didn't you?" he asks.

"No... no," you heave with your thighs squeezing together. "I guess I was just lonely, desperate to have someone fill the space where you should've been."

"Oh, you'll have me," he withdraws slowly, hands rested at each of your hips while a tensed eye contact returned, "Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours."

The next scene, his fingers trail down to your thighs once more — only this time they venture further, caressing the inner sections of your thighs from underneath the flow of your skirt. A whimper stifles in your throat; how long he’s waited to hear those noises. Those pretty, personal noises of yours.

His thumb rests at your clothed clit through your panties, a shock running up your spine at the contact. Your hands link around his neck, legs on-instinct spreading wider while on his lap. The thumb at your clit begins to rub small circles — and being no longer able to confine any noises or movements, your back arches in an impossible curl while you slant your head backwards and allow more of those pretty noises to tear from your throat. A feverish sensibility runs to your face like blood through veins, the rest of that heat flowing off of right into the surrounding air — nostrils continually crowded with the aroma of sex and his masculine scents of spiced cologne and puffed cigars where you tucked your head at the dip of his neck; face pressed into the side of his.

Thick fingers skate past the waistband of your panties, a gasp at the cold fingertips settling on your folds; moving ministrations collecting in rounds at your founded clit, middle and index finger prodding at your cunt — slamming into the sweet abyss of your cunt with a final maneuver; one that you've fabricated scenarios about in a wave of indignity established.

"John-" the whine of his name was cut-off when those fingers of his began to pump up-and-out of you. Your body grows frail, limp on his lap with only his one hand on your hip supporting you while the other was occupied at your cunt. "Feels s'good..."

"Yeah, doll?" he tilts his head to get a better look at your face of pleasured contortions, "I assure it'll be much better when I have you on my cock."

Your head tilts backwards using nothing but the air as a leverage, mouth agape; a range of sounds breaking free of the raw barriers of your throat. The concept of a ‘better’ sensation had caused your body to writhe under this every touch, a non-infectious fever messes at your head as your body does all it can do as of now; submit to him as if he were still under the title of ‘Captain’ out on the fields of war, putting you right under his controlled commands.

Price angles his head to where the point of his nose pokes at the heated flesh of your cheek, lips ghosting over the structure of your jaw. He pins ghost kisses over your cheek, then your jaw, flooding you over with an affection while his fingers worked their ways inside your cunt. The contact has a sting to it, almost like a prick of a needle — a burning, elating sensation against you that died down to a more soothed feeling.

The addition of two fingers thrusted up inside of you and a thumb rubbing in quick motions at your swollen clit matured a coil in your lower abdomen; sensitive and swirling in a dragged-out pleasure that was dying to be released of its own prison where it stood in place. Your mind was blank — full-on buzzed static and a memory like a cleaned slate; entirely drunk on wherever he chose to touch you, whether it was a small grasp of your waist or a rough motion to your the throb located right between your thighs.

Your skin had been wholly flushed of sweat and caused the material of your dress to stick to you, a pre-arousal starting to leak around the length of his fingers. Your chest heaved with each hefty breath, eventually diluting to shorter breaths that were practiced in shorter durations. The tips of his fingers never failed to press at that soft spot of sensitivity, a low moan or whine played each time he did press up at it.

You gather some composure to form words, stuttered and whines but perceivable enough to recognize as the spoken language.

“John- I’m gonna cum, feels s’good,” you whine.

He stares, languid. “I’m not stopping you reaching your own pleasure baby,” he whispers, continuing to ghost his lips against the bow of your jaw and the warmth of your cheek.

His permission was the maximum to send you over that long-awaited cliff of ecstasy; a glowing, flashing beam of white depicting of your eyesight. Your legs had extended themselves more in width at the overwhelming wave of rapture which brushes over your; back arched in an impossible hooked curve, nails digging through his shirt and leaving crescents into skin behind. A surge of your arousal bursts around his fingers, that still proceed to thrust into your cunt despite your orgasm already at its peak.

Your eyes twitch at his fingers through your orgasm, your fingers wrapping at the wrist of his moving hand. “S’too much, daddy, can’t do more…”

“Daddy, huh?” he questions, even shocked himself at the sudden term you use for him, “Never knew you were into that kind of shit, sweetheart,” his last sense of morality slips away, a carnage urge running through the path of his head. “But I gotta do this, get you all ready for my cock.”

He gives you a couple more of short, quickened thrusts into your cunt before he slides his drenched fingers out of you — a whine from your lips at the loss of contact that once filled you, kept you full and at ease. The hand rested at your hip travels to your back, easily handling you off his lap and gently tossing you back-facing the mattress. His hand of drenched fingers are slowly pulled in with the use of your fingers wrapped at the wrist, taking the digits into your mouth and lapping at your own personal taste.

“Christ,” he breathes, taking admiration in the way he stares at you while your tongue wraps at his fingers, “Fuckin’ minx.”

The clutch you have on his hand loosens up after you lap up the final remains of your taste on the pads of his fingers — now only coated in a thin layer of saliva. Price can only manage a gruff chuckle, eyeing his fingers before he can position himself between the space of your spread thighs; that had extended out for him without the need of a single order given to you.

You practically knew what he would’ve wanted of you in this situation; spread out those legs for him, exposing your all just for him.

He takes the time to quickly tug the white of his shirt over his head, an exhibition of a sculpted chest littered with some hair; glistened with sweat and glossed over in some shine. At this, your bottom lip tugs at your teeth and you raise an arm up to each strap of your dress — pulling the light-weighted item down your shoulder and down to your knees where your legs assisted with kicking the rest of it off. The both of you sat there, half-naked; a bra, panties, sweatpants, and boxers the only forms of shelters that was wedged in between from the final stage of being bare and intimate.

His fingers next work at the waistband of his sweatpants and rag it down along with his boxers — in some way, it was animalistic, like he was in some desperate need to get everything off in order to finally be inside of you, (Which was exactly that). You peel your panties, doused of a previous arousal, down your thighs and discard them onto the floor to be forgotten of. Focusing, you rested your head on a more elevated surface on the pillow for a better perspective — the perspective of his cock that hovered over your stomach; larger than average, a few prominent veins that ran from his base to the dulled head, and the pre-cum that glazed over the slit. A fist pumps at his cock a few times.

The sight was erotic — the absolute condition of the situation erotic. Pornographic, even; the modest swaying of your hips, the flat head of himself now rested at your inner thighs, and a spitting image of a man straight from a seventies adult film at your own personal use — something about this was so utterly artistic and devoted. Your chest grows heavy with an excitement, numbed of intense heat. The bleary-lidded aspect of his eyes only can help to cherish over you like a sacred entity; an angel sent from heaven for his own keep.

"Can't believe that arsehole, lovie," he vocalizes while running the rough of his hands up your hips, taking compliment to the way your supple flesh dents and forms to his touch. "You're absolutely gorgeous, such a pretty lil' lady."

"Please," you whimper, flat palms digging into the fitted sheet which your clammy body lays under. "Can't wait any longer, daddy..."

The nickname on your pretty lips again pitches him off the last bits of patience, the hold your hips tighter as his hips ram against yours — a rapid, precise movement. The sensation of his cock filling your tender cunt up after months of indulging in the same day-dream had your back arching over the mattress, head absorbed in the fabric of the pillow, legs reinforced around his waist. The few sets of thrusts are slow and devoted, due to your tightness and essentially preparing you for more to come.

"You poor thing," he breathes out, slamming his cock into your wanting walls, "You've longed of this, haven't you? Must've been achin' so bad for my cock in your pretty pussy."

You're deprived of your words — any consciousness of your body — and only can help yourself to nod, admitting to his query.

Your saccharine moans and additional whines that he hauls from you are sublime to his ears; ones that he, shamefully, has speculated while inspecting you each time you would return back to your shared room — in addition to his times of isolation when nobody was around and off to their combat drills, his fist fucking around his cock with his head thrown back to the tile of the shower, grunting and envisioning your swollen lips taking his cock in like a divine sacrament. His eyes drift to your chest — a grunt tearing from his throat each time your breasts jolted with each slam of your hips.

He shadows his body over your own, chest of hair pressing to the softer mounds of your breasts as his lips press to almost every spots of your face.

"Could he ever do this?" he questions against your face, head rested in the on your shoulder while the leaned position he holds himself in causes his cock to pound into you more aggressively and deeper. "Could that prick ever fuck you like this, baby? Like a real man?"

"N- No!" you stutter, pressing your face to his neck and digging your nails to the flexible muscles of his naked back. Your legs stand out in the air and twitch every so often. "He couldn't... only you can."

"Mmm," he hums, pounding into your sweet cunt like a drill-hammer. "That's right, doll. I'll be the only man to treat you like this, to pull those beautiful noises that you hide from me."

Drool begins to collect at a corner of your mouth as he converts your brain to a mush of mess, body compliant and gone completely frail to the way he pounds you into the mattress. His hands slowly move from your hips to the hardened walls behind your bed, distancing himself up by a few inches as he pursues with more thrusts brimming of carnality. Relevant creaks of the mattress and the shared commotion of solid grunts and pitched moans reverberated at the slim, smothered walls that had grew moist overtime in the airspace of sex.

The head of his cock kisses at your cervix, each protruding vein branding itself in the clenched walls of your cunt. Your back sprouts an ache in the arched posture you holds yourself in — one hand coming down to your stomach and pressing on the area you feel his cock stretches you out from.

A broken gasp abandons your lips, arms stabilized up at your head and trembling. "John, mmph—" you get out, "S'too much, can't handle a lot more..."

"I know, darlin'," he said, "But all you gotta do is lay here all pretty and let me fuck you, simple as it sounds. Can you do that for me, pretty?"

You squeal when he gives a particular harder thrust into you. "I dunno—"

"C'mon, pretty thing, you can do it," Price said, breath full of cigar smoke, "Make me proud, angel."

Tears — not of sadness, but the sensation of being cherished washing over you and hitting you like a brick — paint your shot-opened eyes, only a silent nod agreeing to his words. He smiles, leaning to give you a kiss on your forehead before positioning himself back to your gleaming entrance; large hands strong on both sides of your hips, his upper-half slumped over you, your lower-half elevated and rested around his waist. The next collection of thrusts are fast, laced with precision as you feel yourself grow weaker, whines leaving your mouth with his more often occurring groans. Your inner-thighs grow soaked, body filthy of sweat and the remnants of your former orgasm on your skin that he caused.

Your entrance is slick, glistened with your arousal that had just started to form up. The noises of skin-on-skin escalating, and the strength he drills into you becoming overwhelming. With your smaller frame in comparison to his much larger, bulky build; you were bound to be left sore and aching after this. Your head has gone stupefied in every single corner — drunk of his cock and how it never fails to inch your closer to the final stage of pleasure that has you seeing heaven and blinded visions of white. A familiar coil in your stomach has more pressure added onto it with his flat palm still resting on it, slightly weighing down on the sticky layer of skin. You're beneath under him once again, much like how you did first on his lap, but more amorous.

The bulbous girth of his cock reaches barbaric speeds, providing you with no breaks in between — your desperate whines and pleads out to him cut short, delivered in incomprehensible babbles. Your legs are desensitized; back offered off of the bed as the two of his hands move to clutch your waist in a humane nature as if you were some doll, his hips paused right to yours and his cock nestled in the depths of you. Your fingers run up and down his back in brisk movements, nails slashing the tattered skin of declined battle scars. Warmth spurts right through your walls and washes over your insides in tints of white.

For a second time, the constructed coil in you loses itself, inspiring your cunt to spill while motionless at his cock and douse his rested thighs in your arousal. He slouches over you, plunging his frame down to rest against you. His chest meets right to yours; the soft, plush flesh of your breasts contrary to his more vigorous torso of hair furnishing the domain. The present force once at your delicate cunt is absent, pulled out, a final low whimper given rise to at the loss. Your nails remove themselves from the violent burial they give to his back, compressing your palms and stiffening your arms into him that was an embrace.

His head that rests at your shoulder turns to your face of a fucked-out expression, a chuckle from his mouth at the sight as his lips press sloppy kisses to your neck and face; a hum from your mouth at the softened contact of his beard scratching at your face. Whispers of praise and repeated cooes dive to your ears — quite inaudible since you were clearly still numb from sex. Sex that you played-out with your Captain, your superior. In a moralistic classification, such a relationship with a superior figure was inappropriate; putting you and Price at the risk of being ejected from both your positions, but it didn't really matter as of now.

As long as he devoted himself to you with his all, and you did the same for him, there was no wrongs. He was the one in command after all, supplied with a great amount of power over the Task Force.

He peppers your face in the traces of his lips. "You doin' better now, dolly?"

"Mmhm, yeah..."

"Much better than him, isn't that right?"

You give him a dopey smile. "Way better."

Price brings his hands to your hair, petting at the strands and locking your face in the scent of himself while he never falters to bring a kiss to whichever part of your face. "Yeah, I know that, sweet girl. Much better."

[bunnakit]

last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

[potato-frenzy]

Started rereading Ice Planet Barbarians from the beginning and once again I am thinking of how juicy a queer interpretation of this world would be. Just so much of the story would be so interesting if you bring queerness into a story that centers straight couples falling love primarily due to the biological imperative of a symbiont that is dictating adaptational advantages.

The sa-khui are a stone age society that see most things through the lens of survival and have staunch values concerning the childbearing members of their tribe. Imagine being a young gay man in a culture that legitimately has no concept of homosexuality because of the circumstances of their environment. It took me a long time to logic out how a culture could legitimately not have such a concept and the presence of the khui is a good way to kind of just hand wave certain things.

Sure, it's easy to apply our own world's logic to this world. The gender ratio being skewed so heavily towards the males because of that plague that took out a majority of their population. It necessitate certain things as most of the hunters were boys and young men when a majority of the women in their lives died off. The only women are either old, children, or mated. Such harrowing times would probably make a boy rethink certain things, just out of necessity. Or maybe there have been young men who have spent their lives content to never resonate and to keep the company of their fellows.

It's a society that legitimately believes sex is to be shared with your mate, your partner. Sex for pleasure is not unheard of course. Vektal and Maylak were lovers until she resonated to Kashrem and we have a case of an unhappy resonance and infidelity as a byproduct of such. It's an important thing and I believe Asha gets her own book eventually. And we don't really have a lot of history to go off of to figure out if there was possibilities of potential queerness in the past.

I'd like to imagine that it's happened a few times that young hunters have taken off on long treks just as an excuse to be alone together. That there have been young men in love who have cursed the reality that they'll never resonate for their love. That the possibility looms dark over them that they'll resonate to a woman and this love will be crowded out by the khui screaming to mate her and give her children. I can very well imagine that. I can even imagine that sa-khui fathers may have even taught their sons to be careful, because the taste of your resonance will eclipse all things. Whatever you may feel for someone else will pale next to her, no matter how real it was. I think for some young father, this lesson was given from a place of pain. But his son would internalize it and romanticize it and it would carry across generations and with how tightly woven the tribe is, it would be the culture.

I'd like to think Raahosh is bi and doesn't even realize it because of how trauma has effected him and his ability to socialize. I'd like to imagine that Liz teaches him about queerness and they explore things together. We got hints that she's willing to peg him in the book and she even makes a quip about the idea of him making out with his long lost brother being really hot. I know it's meant to be a joke but I can't help but imagine Raahosh, brooding and scarred and so deeply insecure and traumatized, letting his feisty mate put him on his back and mate him like another man would.

I know how the books are written. I know that Ruby Dixon is a straight, southern woman. But damn if the potential isn't so real.

[freezingmcxn]

in your little au, what would the crps do if they encountered a victim that looked as though they'd been abused / had an abusive past?

CREEPS REACTIONS TO AN ABUSE VICTIM (CRP AU)

I’m gonna assume the person is one of their own victims that they’re attempting to kill, so I chose crps that are killers.

Tw: Abuse, Murder, Manipulation, childhood trauma.

These are a bit upsetting, please remember these are my own versions of crp characters from an AU! In no way am I saying how they act is okay. If you are ever going through abuse please reach out and get help, you deserve so much better.

TOBY ROGERS

He barely pays attention to details like that, and I doubt it would change his mindset, he’s still going to kill you.

If he notices bruises or scars similar to the ones he once had, he might start to understand what had happened and get reminded of what happened to him, it makes him more violent than ever but it’s only because he hates to see and feel anything that is close to vulnerability.

He has never learned how to process any of his trauma, so it festers inside him as anger.

Feeling weak and pathetic, he assumes you must feel the same, and hurting you only reinforces that belief for him, he thinks killing you will put you out of your misery in a way.

LAUGHING JACK/JACK AURAND (read about him here)

He takes particular pleasure in targeting victims who have already suffered abuse or are currently suffering abuse, it makes them easier to manipulate.

Jack, like I mentioned before, is the owner of a small store. He has become “skilled” at spotting people with bruises, old scars, or tear streaked faces when they walk in.

He carefully builds a false sense of security, earning their trust with a fake comforting presence.

Once they let their guard down, he betrays them, leading them into the woods to meet his alter ego, Laughing Jack.

JEFFERY WOODS

If Jeff discovers you’ve been abused, whether in the past or currently, he’ll mock you relentlessly throughout your struggle with him.

He’ll turn even more cruel, pointing out your bruises and scars during the attack, taunting you with the idea of just leaving you to suffer at your abuser’s hands.

Throughout, he’ll twist his cruelty into something he believes is “righteous”, he will start claiming that by killing you, he’s “saving” you from the horrors you’ve endured.

He’ll go as far as telling you that he’s your savior, and you should be grateful for it. (His Solipsism)

NATALIE OUELLETTE/CLOCKWORK

Natalie will never target a child or anyone who isn’t an older man, yes, she despises people, but she actually has limits.

Having endured relentless abuse from her father, Natalie channels her rage exclusively toward men, never women or children.

If she encounters a man who shows signs of abuse, she won’t hesitate to kill him, refusing to acknowledge his suffering because she can’t comprehend it in her mind, as she’s killing she is just seeing her father, not the innocent man.

When faced with someone else who is visibly in a vulnerable state, she can empathise, she’ll feel a sense of pity and will try to help a little bit.

She might guide them out of the forest, tend to their wounds, or provide food and water.

Just to clarify again before you finish reading this, I’m fully aware of how messed up all of this is.

These characters have deeply twisted views, but that’s who they are. My goal is for you to understand them as complex individuals, to see them as people, and then feel conflicted about their morals and actions. DO NOT ROMANTICIZE THIS!

[princelylove]

Hi, accidentally stumble in your blog~ I love yandere jojo contents too so I hope to see your content about it :D

I don't know what to request yet but maybe we can talk about type of yandere. What is your favorite type of yandere? Mine is delusion or simp yandere (what characters in jojo you think they will be in this category btw)

Delusional types are adorable to me. There’s just something so charming about someone who’s so bent on being together that their brain skips the entire courting process and goes right into “We’re dating. No actually we’re married and have been married since forever and even our past lives were married. You belong to me what do you mean I have to stop calling for fifteen days.” I think my favored type is protective, but delusionals are too cute to pass on. As for those I think are delusional or simps, off the top of my head…

I’d also argue that Mista’s the type to simp, he’s pretty sure he’ll die if you carry your own shopping bags, but he doesn’t strike me as delusional. Love’s gotta be real to him, you know? He’s the kind of guy that can take a maybe, hell, even a hard no! He knows how to back off, but he’s just gonna keep watch from over here if that’s cool with you. I mean, come on, what kinda “friend” would he be if he let you open your own doors or pay for your own meal? He’s got a job, it’s totally on him! Don’t even think about trying to step over that puddle yourself, he’s already got you up by your legs to carry you across. He’s pretty strong, isn’t he? Oh, he’d die a happy man if you praised him for something like that. He’s like a dog whose tail just won’t stop wagging. You’re his everything, why wouldn’t he try to do things for you all the time? That isn’t weird, don’t shove him into the same category as creepy guys who never give up! It’s like typical hollywood stuff, you know? Romanticism or whatever! 

You know who’s fully delusional, though? I say this with lots of love, but Diego. He just cannot fathom the idea of someone rejecting him, I mean, what’s wrong with him? He’s the prince of the british horseracing world, how DARE you reject him??? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, don’t play hard to get with him of all people! You should be begging for his attention, not the other way around, but here we are. Diego fully believes that you were made for him, you just don’t understand the gravity (I do think I’m funny for this wordplay) of the situation yet. No matter what happens, you’re always going to be his. As long as he’s got it in his head that you’re more of an object than a real person who has thoughts and feelings like he does, he’s not really going to care about your ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Look, pigeons are just meant to be led, and he’s already somewhat fond of you, so just let him have what he wants. I’m firmly of the belief that if you ever flat out rejected him, he’d just think you were unwell and needed him even more. Be good for him, he doesn’t have the time to play this silly little game of cat and mouse with you right now. 

Joseph is another “You can’t play hard to get forever!” type to me, honestly. He’s persistent like a bloodhound, and is going to get in the way of whatever lover or relationship you’ve got going on right now no matter what. He called dibs on you, so, it’s totally fair. He’ll show up to your apartment or house and completely ignore his training if it means getting just a glimpse of you. So what if he’s got a ring in his throat, he wants to put a ring on your finger! Joseph goes the extra mile for you- literally. If you were to move out of town, he’d walk all the way to your new place if he had to. Joseph won’t be deterred so easily. You just wanted him to get some exercise, right, babe? That’s so thoughtful of you! It makes his day when you look his way, especially if you actually catch him showing off with his training. If you were to actually talk to him, or god forbid compliment him, he’d be reeling for a week. He trails behind you on your errands, taking notes mentally of where you go and what you get. One day he’ll know it by heart, and then you won’t even have to go on errands anymore! Unless you want to go with him, that is. Then he’s totally down for a little couple’s day out. Joseph will buy you whatever you want as long as he gets his fix in. Let him put his head on your lap and just stare, and he’ll be thrilled. I don’t necessarily believe that Joseph would kidnap you if you broke his fantasy too many times, but you’re definitely going to start losing a lot of personal time. It doesn’t matter how he got into your apartment, he made dinner. Haha, ok, you caught him. He ordered dinner. 

I think it’s fairly obvious to say that Yukako is delusional. She has a warped sense of reality. Her crimes really don’t matter to her because she’s making up for it. Look, look, she cooked for you. Stop trying to go for the door or the window. Yukako loves you, so you’re going to be perfect for her, and you’re going to be perfect together. She’s firm about never leaving your side even though she’s already got you all to herself. She sees nothing wrong with skipping dating and going right to locking you up if she thinks you need her for something. You’re failing at that cooking class that school made you take despite your pleas not to? She can do that. You’re awful with directions? She knows every little corner of town. You actually don’t need her and are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself? Don’t talk like that. You need her. There’s absolutely no reason to deny her, so let’s do this the cutesy way she wants it. 

[theratisbackanditsinyourkitchen]

not to cause drama or anything but I HATE SCYTH ASMR! (Tw fictional domestic abuse, and fictional abuse of power)

Hate is a strong word, and my feeling might be a little over the top but, I do wanna talk about some of his stuff. I was a big fan of his when his first V vid was made. I joined the discord and followed all his posts. And then he posted a video that happened to have domestic violence in it, MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR THAT PAST THIS!!!! this vid has the listener character “cheeky” (I will not be calling her that cus that’s is a cringe ass nickname btw) and V, the romantic interest training, then after some flirting (one sided on V’s part, I’ll get into this later) a cargo truck full of scientists drives by! V quickly gets into the trunk and kills everyone in there, the listener character tries to stop him from killing what she think is an innocent person, he kills the guy in front of her, and then throws her out of the car, chokes her, talks about how he’s going to kill her and pin her death on the people in the cargo truck, and then says “how about one more kiss before you go” before letting her go. He then afterwards explains that the reason he killed all of them, was because of some in story lore about werewolves. It’s explained that what they did basically caused a werewolf to go feral and become evil and kill people. So obviously! These scientists who were probably forced by the government to do this, deserved to die! That makes sense! Anyway the moral of this vid was that the listner character should always listen to V no questions asked! I hate this vid for a number of reasons. The biggest one is the number of comments sexualizing and romanticizing the fucking horrible and traumatic abuse this listener faced, even bigger then that was the fact scythe audio fed into it.

The worst comment (trigger warning, victim blaming)

As you can see, scythe not only condoned this behaviour, he feed into it. This comment makes me sick. I accidentally watch this video without reading the description and became very triggered at the video. (this is not scythe audios fault, I must make this clear) seeing people make jokes like “I asked to be choked but not like this” and talking about how the listener character deserved and even enjoyed the attack was and still is repulsive.

The relationship between V and the listener character was also extremely abusive, but it was always shown as loving, or something like that. The listener has to stay with V and basically do whatever he asks (including kissing and I assume sexual favours) or be tossed to the streets to be picked up by either the evil shadow government or the actual government. Both wanted her dead. So, she’s trapped staying with a man who threatens violence if she doesn’t follow his every whim, who sexually harasses her daily, who diminishes her trauma, and who treats her like trash, just so she doesn’t her tormented and eventually killed. My issue with this isn’t the fact he’s an abusive ass hat, my issue is that instead of giving him any actual character growth, V was given orphans. He was made into an adopted dad to a shit ton of orphans cus he has ZERO REDEEMING TRAITS OTHER THEN HOT. Scythe audio must have realized this guy was his money maker and realized he had to make this guy actually redeemable if he wanted to have him to keep Marlon him money. Anyway it was unconvincing cus right after introducing the fact there were cute kids in the equation, he dropped the domestic abuse.

Another thing, less about the videos and more about how he interacted with fans. His discord sever had rolls for age! They specifically had one labeled “16 and under”, now, I’m not against having minors in asmr fandom spaces, but having minors especially such young ones in a sever he made? It just felt like a weird choice, especially seeing as he had and still has, and I’m going to say it bluntly, porn up on YouTube. Now you can say “but the video said 18+!” We all know that has never ever stopped a minor from doing anything. With this said, a large amount of his fandom was under 18, I’ll give him this, I don’t think i ever saw Scythe interact with an under 18 fan, but he knew they where there, he knew they watched his content. And yet knowing this, he wrote stories that glorified domestic abuse as a way to teach your partner how to fall in line he wrote stories glorifying the horribly toxic relationship that was V and the listener character. This type of thing affects kids greatly, especially if they have no clue it is abusive. Even in the video with the domestic abuse the description says “this may be triggering to listeners in regards to domestic based violence” not “Trigger warning, this video contains Domestic abuse!” It says it more like “it’s kinda domestic abuse, but only if that triggers you”

In Redacted, the description will always tell you what to expect. “Gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationship” he will make sure you know that a toxic relationship is toxic, he makes sure your aware that the abuse shown, isn’t love. The most scythe does is say “well V is a villain! He’s not a good guy!” And yet her tries to make him redeeming so people like him.

Now, I get that this was over 2 years ago, scythe audio could have totally moved past this weird glorifying abuse thing, who knows! I mostly wrote this as a vent cus my friend reminded me he existed. Anyway if you made it this far have a nice day. If you where or still are a scythe fan, tell me what you think of all this (without being mean please) if you happen to be scythe himself block me I don’t want you near me. Anyway have a nice day!

[pastriibunz]

NIGHTMARE KAI-ME OFFICIAL LINEUP!

“LOOK WHAT HAPPENS, NIGHTMARE TI KAIME!”

Summary: A 10 part/episode miniseries revolving around Kai’s misadventures in Hatchetfield! Follow Kai’s goofy hijinks as she deals with everything from robots to cat loving kidnappers! Some episodes are based off of episodes from Team Starkid’s series “Nightmare Time” and some episodes are original works by yours truly (with prompts/plot outlines by @local-soda-can)!

SEASON ONE, EPISODE ONE - Hey, Melissa!

“meow meow meow meow - meow mix cat food”

Episode Type: Canon (?)

Summary: Kai gets involved in a very bizarre adventure with her father’s bubbly coworker, Melissa. KAI GETS CATGIRL’D LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

SEASON ONE, EPISODE TWO - The Waylon Squatter

“we’ll meet again - vera lynn”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Peter Spankoffski and Stephanie Lauter decide to break head into the Waylon to make hang out. Their plans are interrupted by Grace Chasity, who decides to tag along on their little adventure, much to their dismay. The three are informed of the rumors of the Waylon being haunted by various ghosts, one of which being the ghost of a young homeless girl who hid in the Waylon in hopes of shelter, but was driven insane by what went on inside the walls. She now stalks the halls, singing a beautiful, yet haunting melody, now dubbed ‘The Waylon Squatter’. The trio brushes off the rumors as just that and sets off to disprove them. Their adventure takes a turn for the worse as they come face to face with a very real Waylon Squatter, who doesn’t take well to strangers in her territory. The trio now has to try and survive while uncovering the mystery behind The Waylon Squatter’s past.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE THREE - Forever And Always

“forever & always - original starkid cast of nightmare time”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Paul Matthews and Emma Perkins are finally getting hitched, and their adoptive daughter, Kai Drew, is happy to join them on the ride! However, when secrets arise from Emma's past, the happy family's lives are turned upside down as the couple is forced to confront their skeletons in their closets, and Kai is forced to choose between the family she thought she knew or the truth.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE FOUR - Revised Reprise

“puppet boy - devo”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Paul and Emma love Kai! Of course they do, she’s been living with them for a while now, she’s practically their daughter! But, they realize something: they don’t really know much about Kai’s past, other than she lived in a town called Unington with her parents and friends. Everything else is a mystery to them. So, what do they do? Ask the source, of course! Kai is hesitant to share the details of her past, as her life has been full of tragedies and hardship. With enough convincing, Kai starts to think back to her past. While doing this, she stumbles upon something strange: she can’t quite remember what traumatic events happened to her. And the things she can remember? They’ve been twisted and turned into a more romanticized version of events, along with an entirely new person added into her memories. Confused and determined to get to the bottom of this, Kai heads back to her hometown to figure out why her memories were rewritten and who was behind it.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE FIVE - Watcher World

“the blinky song - original starkid cast of nightmare time”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Kai is invited to spend the day with her Uncle Bill and his daughter, Alice, for some “family bonding time” at Watcher World, an older amusement park located on the edge of Hatchetfield. But, of course, Kai can never catch a break, as her fun turns to fear when she realizes there’s more to the park than meets the eye.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE SIX - Miss Ingénue

“venetian blind man (song) - will wood”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai loves living in Hatchetfield! She’s got some awesome parents that she loves a lot, and most of everyone is half decent towards her. Recently, however, things have been a bit…odd. Paul and Emma have been strangely overprotective of her, barely allowing her room to breathe. Plus, whenever she goes out alone, she can’t help but feel like she’s being watched by thousands of eyes, and not in a good way. Watch as Kai tries to get to the bottom of the strange happenings that are occurring to her.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE SEVEN - Abstinence Camp

“virginity rocks - original starkid cast of nightmare time 2”

Episode Type: Canon

Summary: Kai is forced to go to Hatchetfield’s very own Abstinence Camp by Paul when she offhandedly mentions she kinda, sorta, peggedaman lost her virginity and he freaks. Despite her protests and repeated reassurances of the fact that she is asexual, she gets sent to the camp. And as trouble follows Kai everywhere and refuses to lay off her, she learns of a dark secret, one that stalks the camp, lurking in the shadows. One that punishes the horny and troublemaking teens of the camp that refuse to abstain. One that carries an axe.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE EIGHT - Food For Thought

“dinner is not over - jack stauber’s micropop”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: All your worst nightmares have come true: Kai has entered the work force! That’s right, Miss Drew now has a job at Hatchetfield’s very own Miss Retro’s! Kai’s extremely thankful for the job, as it allows her to do one of her only comforts left: cooking for others! Kai’s BANGIN cooking skills begin to attract attention, and the diner gets a lot of traction! However, cooking takes a turn for the worse, as Kai begins to get plagued with horrific and grotesque visions of her friends and family as she cooks. Panicked and overwhelmed by the visions, Kai is forced out of the kitchen and onto the diner floor, taking orders and bringing customers their food. But when a mysterious customer enters the diner and requests Kai to cook their meals, Kai is forced back into the kitchen. The food ordered is strangely familiar to her, and Kai’s suspicions start to grow as she wonders who the customer is, and what they want with her.

SEASON ONE, EPISODE NINE - Web Of Lies

“kiss me, son of god - they might be giants”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai has won. Finally, after years of searching, Kai has found a timeline where nothing bad happens. She’s finally able to have that happy family she so desperately wants! But, nothing lasts forever. She soon is plagued by visions of other timelines. With her deduction skills, she soon concludes that something or someone is messing with her, and she has a pretty good idea of who. She confronts them, and she thinks her problems are over. Soon, however, things start to spiral out of control. Also, does anyone mind telling Kai what the heck a Webby is?!

SEASON ONE, EPISODE TEN - Space Drifter

“another believer - rufus wainwright”

Episode Type: Non Canon

Summary: Kai’s habit of running from her problems finally catches up to her.

SOUNDTRACK LINK:

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: The Beast Takes a Bride by Julie Anne Long

4.5/5. Releases 10/22/2024.

The Vibes:

—Beauty and the Beast (most obvi)

—weapon-grade pining

—big stern man meets lowkey bratty woman (his wife)

—covert boning (like... everyone is covertly boning in this book)

Heat Index: 7/10

The Basics:

Alexandra Brightwall should be relieved when her husband, war hero Magnus, bails her out of prison. The problem? They haven't seen each other for five years. Not since the day after their wedding, actually. Stern and cool, Magnus knows their marriage was a huge mistake, so he has a proposal. He's on the verge of being created an earl; he just needs to present a good face until that happens. As long as Alexandra helps him put on the facade of a harmonious relationship, he's happy to give her a life of luxury... far from him. Needless to say, this is a lot easier said than done.

The Review:

Julie Anne Long is always funny; but the best kind of Julie Anne Long also punches you in the gut. This? Does just that. In fact, I think it's my third-favorite JAL, after What I Did for a Duke and After Dark with the Duke. It kind of gave me everything!

The thing I've struggled with when reading a lot of recent historical romances is that everyone is very... nice. Sedate, even. They don't act out, they're fundamentally good people who don't fuck up, and so on. This is not that kind of book. It's not that Magnus or Alexandra are so horrible. They're clearly good people with good hearts and good intentions.

They're just also... delightfully flawed. She's a bit bratty and flighty and tends to act on impulse. He's stern and struggles with forgiveness, and has a tendency to want to win at all costs. Neither of them are by any means monsters (though Magnus is referred to as a "beast" by the gossips, and in one of my favorite microtropes, IT KINDA HURTS BIG GROWLY MAN'S FEELINGS WHEN PEOPLE CALL HIM BEAST). But they have their issues, and they haven't dealt with them, and that's why their marriage combusts before it can really even start.

Also, they're both pretty bad at talking about their feelings, and make judgments about each other that aren't really fair. Here's the thing, though: All of this makes sense, because they were kind of strangers marrying. You get the most glorious pining thoughts from Magnus, and it's clear that he was besotted with Alexandra from the start... But he really didn't get to know her as a person. He didn't let her be a flawed person.

And it's a surprisingly complex thing, the way Long both lets us luxuriate in the swoony romanticism of Magnus's initial feelings for Alexandra (and my God, is it romantic... this is just an achingly romantic novel, in general) while never condemning Alexandra for her resistance. Because Magnus's feelings can be genuine, and he can be right about this inexorable chemistry between him and Alexandra; and he can also push Alexandra too far too soon and go about making their relationship a reality in a bad way. And then act affronted when she doesn't respond well to being pushed.

They're both messy people who nevertheless have, as Magnus, one of those guys with a Good Sense About Things (hence him being good at war) amazing chemistry. The kind of tension that just has to be fulfilled. It's delicious, and it's part of what makes this one of the hottest books I've read by Long. I mean. Holy shit.

It's also just like... so sweet? I felt as if I really got to know both Magnus and Alexandra, despite the narrative being brisk and also, like every book in this series, offering time to supporting characters. Few people can pull this off. Long is one of the best romance writers I can think of in terms of noticing the small details that have a big impact. The little notes about Magnus's past that tell you so much about why he is the way he is. The beats for Alexandra that remind you of a depth he doesn't necessarily want to see in her, five years after she broke his heart.

(And: I LOVE what drove them apart initially. Handled with such humanity! A thing I think a lot of authors wouldn't have done!)

Also—for Jane Austen fans. Imagine Colonel Brandon local pushing the marriage with Marianne, and then having it blow up in his face. With public sex. This is the look!

Of course, I have to note those supporting characters. I always love catching up with the regulars. When will Dot and Mr. Pike figure it out? How loud is Dot going to be when they finally do it? A small subplot in the book is basically a lot of supporting characters being pushed into horniness because of the awkward situations that arise when a honeymooning couple rooms at the Palace. It is glorious. It leads to some super funny yet sexy moments between our two mainstay couples, Delilah and Tristan (Lady Derring Takes a Lover) and Angelique and Lucien (Angel in a Devil's Arms). The way these books keep giving me Lustful Married Couples is. Everything!

The Sex:

Again... this is one of the horniest JAL books I've read! You do genuinely get more sex on the page than a few of the previous installments in this series (four scenes between our main couple, including one particularly exciting moment), plus a lot of hardcore flirting/implied sex between two other couples... and then the "it's funny, but now everyone is talking about loud sex and it's getting hot in the room" loud newlyweds.

I really loved how Alexandra and Magnus had sex, though. The impetuousness of it all. The way he just SNAPPED around her. And honestly? When he's right, he's right. He knew they'd be great in bed together, and, like... yes. I also super appreciated how he used Alexandra's Lust for His Body against her. So great.

Basically: It's funny! It's emotionally devastating at points! It's sexy! This is what we want from Julie Anne Long, and it's a damn good marriage in trouble/second chance book. So excited for everyone else to read this one.

Thanks to NetGalley and Avon for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[evermoredeluxe]

As someone who also is new to Taylor after ttpd like last anon I feel like this is something as a abuse victim I can say.

this album made me feel heard.

essentially I had a man dangle marriage and kids over my head for 5 years. My therapist told me it was a form of mental abuse. Long story short, family members and friends gave me HELL for saying that. Saying I was impatient and dramatic.

I feel like this album truly shows how damaging those promises are when as Taylor said “made to wait.”

of course I imagine her situation wasn’t the same as mine (I hope not) but I find comfort how she called that out as toxic and seeing her fans support it and saying “yes being promised all that for 7 years is wrong” as if I myself am getting the support I never got from my friends and family.

those promises truly make you stay and romanticize everything that person does (even the horrible things) because you think they are your endgame and they know that and use it against you. It’s an awful manipulation tactic.

I’ve said this to another blog, but I truly hope Taylor knows that even the hints of that make a difference of spreading awareness to that type of abuse. Because truly. If my therapist hadn’t told me it was abuse I never would have believed it.

I am now a dedicated fan of hers. The depths of this album and explaining how damaging said promises are for a long period of time.. it truly truly hit.

I’m sure many reading this will like my family and friends be like “how is that abuse” so I’ll save the long winded explanation but essentially, to me this spreads awareness of something that’s very hard to understand unless you have lived it.

im sorry that happened anon <3 glad that TTPD is helping you and that you sought out professional help.

i think the reason i wouldn’t call it abuse in taylor’s case is because she didn’t use that word (even though 2+2 = 4), and it feels unfair. she hinted so much at how it hindered her life and literally used jail and cages as metaphor, and how she felt ignored, and i think that’s A Lot especially because she tried helping him throughout it. but a part of the fandom may not be ready to address that despite how honest and raw and revealing the album is.

anyway, i think your partner having issues, struggling and taking their time is human and normal, but when they start letting it affect you negatively to the point where they are demolishing you and don’t even try to actually reciprocate anything in the relationship (except fake promises and empty words), and they check out is when it is toxic. because you are giving it your whole existence in hopes of the bright future while they don’t give a fuck. and i personally think that initially it may be unintentional, but eventually the fake words become intentional because they know they can use them to quell you, and those promises make you think of the time when it was good and you hold onto it tightly. but maybe that’s just me who thinks this way. additionally, i think one should always strive to be the best version of themselves so that they can be the best partner, and if your person isn’t doing that, i think it’s not the best sign (and taylor talks about this in “peter”)

also, i just wanna say, im not trying to imply anything more than you shared about your past relationship (or taylor’s for that matter), but just making a point that you are indeed valid in feeling this way. sending you a hug 🫂

[non-pressurizeddiamond]

I dislike Avalance. Not for the ship itself but moreso the framing. Them being seen as “soulmates” and the relationship pulling the focus off of Sara as a character and putting the focus on Sara as a half of a sapphic relationship annoys me. Especially since Ava didn’t get the same treatment. I’d hate it if she did, but it’s like those depictions of straight ships where when the woman gets with the man, suddenly she’s just an accessory to his story rather than having one of her own.

It’s the way Sara opened up less after it, the way they significantly changed Ava for it, just the way that these two characters feel fundamentally different from s3 to s4 and beyond.

Another note for the framing—their relationship isn’t all that healthy. It feels forced to me, especially at first. And it feels like they got rid of certain aspects of them just so there’d be two attractive blonde women kissing each other.

You can’t just…do enemies-to-lovers without actually letting people see the transition. It’s jarring, to have them go from despising each other to making heart eyes at each other.

I don’t dislike toxic relationships in media, I only dislike them when they’re portrayed as healthy and when everyone just acts like they are. It feels like they’re romanticizing traits such as jealousy (which is, well, not healthy at the extent it’s shown). Avalance is like the only ship I’ve ever actively disliked since I don’t consume much media, but it’s also just…poorly done. A slow burn would’ve fit their characters better and actually let the audience see the shift in relationship. They could’ve waited an episode or two from where they added Ava’s crush before having someone bring it up to Sara. They could’ve kept Sara’s flightiness (a trait that stayed through two very serious relationships), they could’ve kept Ava’s professionalism at work at least (they had her…drink on the job? For some reason?), they could’ve kept these characters true to themselves while getting them together if they really wanted them together.

Admittedly, I don’t like Ava, but the clone plotline to give her angst and stop them from having time away from each other to breathe after what had happened in the previous episode actually started my dislike for the ship beyond just the thought of “this is odd.” The whole thing of her being a clone was honestly just not what I’d consider a good choice even though most people don’t share that thought. It was more of a plot device to get her vulnerable, to shatter her world view, to destroy her sense of self, and to cause her to need to lean on someone (Sara).

They did something similar in s4, with Ava being abducted and getting stuck in some weird insecurity-driven purgatory. It was a way to get them back together by getting them vulnerable without putting in the effort of having them talk certain things out. They could’ve gone places with that, had Sara open up about her past and explicitly stated and heavily implied experience with torture, both as torturer and tortured, had Ava say something more profound than just wanting Sara to choose her above all else, including her team and moral compass. It was a cheap way to get them to talk about their insecurities. Instead of them opening up out of a desire for the other to know, it was more to be able to work things out and get the hell out.

Each personal plot point they have seems more like an excuse to get them to open up. Which, you could say it’s not, that it’s a natural response, but Sara never talks her grief out with Ava at any time, not her sister’s death, not her father’s death, not Oliver’s death—you’d expect her to talk about it at some point on screen but the only time I remember her talking about it was when she broke down in front of the whole team. So clearly it’s not personal problems that cause this but plot points that have nothing to do with what goes on in the other shows.

It just feels out of place at first and then when s4 rolls around, it just feels straight up out of character. S6 happens and now it’s not just out of character but like the writers aren’t even pretending like they care about Sara as a character outside of the Avalance ship while they give Ava all this development as captain and truly coming into the leadership role. It’s hard to like a ship when it has all the signs of a toxic hetero ship but it’s okay because it’s two women.