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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 months ago

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LOVE LEFT ME LIKE THIS AND I DONT WANT TO EXIST

katsuki bakugou x reader

katsuki, japan’s number 1 hero, discovers his fiancé’s dark past and questions everything.

themes of abuse and violence. please read with discretion 🤍

part 1/2

inspired by florida!!!

all you had to do was beat the charges.

first, the body. he’d laid there, mouth foaming and blood pouring from his neck. you had checked his pulse. the deed had been done. standing over him, your eyes wandered to any means of disposal. ultimately, you decided to let them discover it.

second, the evidence. you made sure to use gloves and specifically used his favourite rocks glass, the one he’d drink out of before heading to see you. you’d leave it on the coffee table next to the couch where he currently laid. maybe they’d believe this was his doing, if luck was on your side. you’d write a suicide note on his behalf- you hadn’t thrown our those gloves yet, anyway.

third, the getaway. because you weren’t going to let them drag you away with his body in a bag. the weight of what you had done would do nothing but shackle you down. yes, you’re haunted, but right now you had to act just fine. your heart was tied up with laces and crimes.

and your cheating, abusive, husband seemingly died out of nowhere, supposedly committing suicide on his own accord while his young marital partner disappeared? well, no one asks any questions where you’re headed now.

you did your best to lay it to rest. meanwhile, japan mourned the loss of a seemingly good and innocent pro hero, to whom you now widowed.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

3 years later.

most of your life had been running and hiding. the thought of settling down anywhere, in a city where you were nothing but a mere guest in. you didn’t trust trust, you didn’t trust happiness. all until meeting katsuki one day.

the thought of ever loving a despicable, power-hungry pro hero set off sirens in your head. but there was some allure about katsuki that made you forget the shadows of your past.

little do you know, he fell for you first and he fell harder. it was impossible not to be enamoured with him- a gorgeous, 6 foot tall blonde with a cocky attitude and fierce determination. who you, at first, wrote off to be a shallow douchebag, but who turned out to be the sweetest, most chivalrous gentleman you had ever gotten the pleasure of knowing.

perhaps your favourite thing about him were his dreams. the things that drove him to be better. his determination to be a good hero, to be the symbol of peace like the ones who came before him. theres a certain light in his crimson eyes that you can’t miss. he shines bright in this light, dazzling your heart and daring you to love him.

so, after just 2 years of dating, you and katsuki are now engaged and living together. the public knows of you, with both adoring and jealous fans by your side.

it gave you this rush. loving him was passionate as sin. every time you’re with him is one hell of a time, even if its something simple as watching a shitty movie together or folding laundry after work. only occasionally, you’d look over your shoulder, making sure no one was following you.

right now, he’s in the kitchen with you. you’re seated on the counter while he cooks, letting you taste-test everything. the glint of your engagement ring looks stunning in this light. katsuki’s happy to be the first person you’ve been married to. at least, he’s happy believing that.

though, somethings different about him this time. he’s quieter, his mind ruminating on something.

he looks at you, the love of his life, seated on the counter wearing his clothes, and wonders how you could be capable of lying to him.

he sighs, putting down whatever he’s doing. he wants to know the truth.

“babe.” he starts, not fully facing you. your ears perk up at the sound of his voice. “yeah?”

he walks over to you, looking you in the eye with his beautiful red eyes. you could sink in them.

“i’m the first man you’ve ever committed to.. right?”

he asks, though it’s something you’ve told him time and time again. previously, he’s wanted to know for some insecure reasons. you’re his one and only, and in the past, he’s just wanted to know you’re on the same page. it’s something you’ve told him everyday.

“yeah.” you smile, hiding behind that facade. “why do you ask?”

he takes a step closer, looking at you. his eyes are pleading, because he wants you to tell him otherwise. please, tell him that what he’s heard isn’t true.

“i wanted to see if you’d lie to me.”

your heart drops.

“what… what are you talking about?” you almost laugh, nervously. that anxiety creeps up your throat. its pathetic the way you thought you could even keep this up.

he sighs, running a hand through his ashy blonde hair in stress. it was wishful thinking, believing that he, a pro hero charged with investigating and bringing justice, would never find out about your crime. for a moment there, it felt good. like you were really gonna get away with it.

he walks past you, rummaging around in his bag before putting the files on the counter next to you. evidence. the man you had taken out, and links that suggested you had done it. your hands shake, seeing how its all stacked against you. looking him in the eye was out of the question.

truthfully, he isn’t sure who he’s looking at. he knows he loves you, but love has never before made him question everything like you’re doing to him. he sighs before continuing.

“kirishima showed me everything.” he says. “he and his team were investigating this case in a city nearby here. i didn’t think much of it until he told me you married the guy, and left right after he was pronounced dead.”

he looks at you, into the face of the person he loves more than anything. he’s begging you to say no. he’s begging you to be innocent.

“did you do it?”

you swallow hard, eyes darkening as you think of your options. was it worth it to lie anymore.

please say no. he thinks. please tell me it isn’t true.

“…i did what i had do.” you whisper, finally confessing.

and his worst fears are confirmed.

his heart sinks, furious as he looks at you. he’s trying to discern if this is the person he knows, if this is the person he loves. his voice is shaky, hands trembling with unbridled rage he tries to keep under control.

“why.” he says, not a question but a command, like venom. you almost flinch at his tone, though you can’t say you blame him. he person he’s set on marrying hid something so huge from him for years.

“its not what you think.” you insist, truthfully not knowing where to start. you cringe at the way your voice cracks when you speak.

his eyes narrow looking at you. “then what is it? you committed a heinous fucking crime and i’m suppose to think its for a good reason?”

god, if katsuki knew half of how hard you life had been. he had a hunch you were going to lie to him again, and it only made him angrier. “tell me the truth. i wanna know-“

“i had a husband before you.” you cut him off. he decidedly holds his tongue, surmising that he’s finally getting the truth from you. so, he waits. impatiently patient.

“i was young, and i had just run away from home.” you explain, the memories of your past crawling back up your throat. “my father was a creepy, rape-y bastard. couldn’t last another second in that house.” you say.

his heart aches at that. he had some idea that your childhood was less than ideal, but the thought your own father did that to you was more than he could bare. though he’s angry, he knows you didn’t deserve it. “i’m so sorry.”

you simply nod, praying for mercy as you continue. “so… i ran away. there weren’t a lot of people who could help me, or who could bring me in. i stayed on the streets most nights.” you sigh, wishing you could run into katsuki’s embrace. on other day, he’d gladly shield you away from all this hurt.

“and then… i met this guy. a hero, believe it or not.” you chuckle bitterly, much to your fiance’s chagrin. the thought that the bastard who did this to being someone like him made him sick.

“he got me a job, and helped me get back on my feet. i fell in love, as stupid and naive as that sounds.” you say. “…and when he asked to marry me, he said it’d only be on paper. that it’d just be so i could have shelter, food and water. i felt like he saved me.”

katsuki nods, still trying to process all of this. “but he didn’t save you… did he?”

you shake your head.

“turns out i married my father.” you say, darkly. he bites his lip, suspicious confirmed. those abused as children are more likely to move on with someone else abusive, after all. its sad cycle that he wishes he could remove you from. though it seems you had your own way of doing that.

“i was gonna die in that house.” you whisper, voice cracking at the seems. “so…”

you can’t even finish your sentence.

he isn’t an idiot. he can connect the dots. but even though the climactic end of your sentence is obvious, he still can’t quite wrap his head around it. he still loves you, though he’s mad as hell you kept this from him.

“i laced his whiskey and watched as it killed him. after, i… i packed my things and left town. took his money, too.”

his silence is killing you. you wish he’d say something, that its okay- though its not. that he still loves you- though he shouldn’t.

you speak again, maybe trying to fix this mess. “i know its wrong. i know its fucked up. i shouldn’t have.”

he lets out another breath, eyes noticing the way your hands shake. those hands, the ones he’d hold in his own, had blood on them.

“and why didn’t you think to tell anyone? no heroes, no police?” he has the nerve to ask, though its a valid question.

you snap, tension breaking as you push yourself ofd the counter and away to face him. “because i don’t TRUST you fuckers!” you cry, yelling while tears spill from your eyes.

silence.

bakugou stared right back into your eyes as you said that, and his expression immediately hardened again. he was angry all over again. for one, he already knew you didn't exactly trust heroes, albeit except for him. but this just hurt him. he knew that he himself was a hero and would protect you with his life.

so why couldn't you see that?

“i’m going to give you one more chance to re-think what you just said.”

but you stand your ground. “no.” you say, shaking your head. “i was abused for years and no one heard my case. i was dismissed and shunned for years until finally, i ran away. and when i did, i was stupid enough to trust again. to trust one of you power-hungry assholes! and how did that end!? with me being scared to come home everyday! with my husband using me like a god damn punching bag!”

his expression immediately drops at your words. hearing what you went through as a kid hit him like a truck. but, on the other hand, he was still so angry. he wanted to tell you that not all heroes are like that, that he wasn't like that.. but the anger was overpowering both his thoughts and his feelings as he listened. he wants to tell you that it’ll never happen again, but his emotions slip it before he can say that.

“and because of what happened with him, you think we're all like that?!” he roars back.

“its different for you and me.” you say, tears refusing to subside. “every-time i’ve let my guard down i’ve been beaten. nothing good comes from trusting.”

so, he wonders if you ever really trusted him. why agree to marry him if you supposedly didn’t believe in trust, or in love? he feels his whole world begin to crumble around him.

he can see now, putting those signs together. your hesitancy when you first met. your trust issues, your reluctance to speak on your past. it all made sense now, and he hated it.

“thats why you were so hesitant to let me in, huh?” he asks, looking at the ground. he’s struggling to keep calm, between his anger towards the monsters of your past and a little towards you.

“you thought i’d be like him?” he asks, and that question physically hurts your heart.

“no! i love you!” your voice cracks like its a lie. both of you notice that.

suddenly, i love you was like the worst thing he’s ever heard.

“and its worse because i’m a hero too, huh?” he asks. but you can’t answer that. instead, you opt to look down, letting your tears soak into your clothes.

“thats not what i thought.” you say, though you aren’t exactly sure who you’re convincing. “i promise, i know you’re different.”

and he is different. katsuki bakugou was nothing like the demons you had fought in your past. he was bright, and warm, and his love felt like home. more specifically, a home that was about to be torn down.

“then why didn’t you tell me, huh? why keep this from me for years?” he asks, still wanting answers.

to this, you almost scoff. it should be obvious. “how do i tell my boyfriend, who is the #1 hero in the country, the pillar of justice and peace, that i murdered someone? that my own hands took someone else life!?”

god, he’s livid. he can’t even look at you, though he admits he kind of understands why you hid it. he believed you were an angel.

“..and you have the nerve to think i’d stop loving you over it!?”

“YES!”

that answer made his anger hit a new record. He grabbed your arms, pushing you against the wall. he held you against it, his grip firm on your wrists, his eyes filled with anger as he looked over your face.

“do you really think I'm like that? do you really think after everything we've been through I'd just stop loving you that easily?”

he was yelling at this point, but he could also hear his voice break slightly as he spoke. he’s crying too.

“you’re hurting me.” you firmly speak.

the fear on your face makes him realize what he’s just done.

exactly 2 seconds after his question, he lets go, backing away. he stutters to himself for a question, seeing what he’s done like a knife through his chest. maybe he wasn’t any better. maybe you had a right to not trust him.

“i’m… fuck, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he says, trying to wipe away your tears. he stops as you flinch away from his touch, only making him hate himself even more.

he loves you, and all he’s wanted to do was protect you. he’s angry, yes, but the last thing he’s ever wanted to do was hurt you. he’ll never forgive himself for that.

silently, you grab your jacket and keys and leave the apartment.

part 2 soon! 🫧

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calirph · 1 month ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘, 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒. all these sentences quotes are regarding mature sentences regarding forbidden encounters, love and feelings as well things to be spoken in the bedroom, include mentions of jealousy as well olf lovers. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit. suggestiveness and level of spicy varies, please beware.

Forbidden Encounters

"Every stolen glance feels like a lifetime of desire condensed into a heartbeat."

"I shouldn’t be here, yet I can’t bear to leave."

"The world fades, and all that remains is the forbidden thrill of your touch."

"Loving you in secret makes every moment feel sacred."

"Our love is a fire we’re not meant to feed, yet it burns brighter each day."

"In the shadows, where no one sees, we exist as we truly are."

"Your lips are a sin I’ll gladly repent for."

"We dance on the edge of what’s forbidden, daring it to break beneath us."

"Every whispered promise carries the weight of what we cannot have."

"The risk makes the taste of you even sweeter."

Love and Feelings

"You’ve become the melody I can’t stop humming."

"When I’m with you, the world feels as though it’s finally in focus."

"Loving you is both my greatest joy and my deepest ache."

"You’re the reason my heart beats faster, even when you’re far away."

"I never knew I could miss someone this much until you."

"Your smile is the thread that stitches together my broken parts."

"You’ve left fingerprints on my soul I’ll never scrub away."

"The space between us is heavy with the words we don’t dare say."

"Your love is both my anchor and my storm."

"In your eyes, I find both sanctuary and chaos."

Bedroom Intimacy

"You are the storm I willingly drown in."

"Every touch of yours is a map leading me to places I never knew existed."

"I want to memorize the way your skin feels beneath my fingertips."

"Your whispers ignite fires I never want to extinguish."

"Each moment with you leaves echoes that linger in my veins."

"Let me trace your every scar and call it beautiful."

"When you’re in my arms, the world feels like it’s finally standing still."

"Your voice alone could unravel me."

"In the dark, with no one watching, I am yours entirely."

"You’ve taught me that desire is both a gift and a surrender."

Jealousy and Past Lovers

"Do they haunt you the way your memory haunts me?"

"I hate that I crave something they once had."

"Do their kisses still linger in your mind when you’re with me?"

"The ghosts of your past linger in the space I want to call mine."

"You say they’re gone, yet I feel their shadow between us."

"I’d rewrite your past if it meant I could have all of you."

"Do you think of me when you hear their name?"

"They may have known your touch, but I will know your soul."

"I don’t need to be your first, but I long to be your only."

"Your past doesn’t scare me, but the idea of sharing your heart does."

Deep Emotional Connection

"You’ve shown me what it means to truly feel alive."

"When I’m with you, time becomes irrelevant."

"Your love is a storm that’s made me stronger."

"I’ve never felt as seen as I do when you look at me."

"You’ve given me courage I didn’t know I possessed."

"Being with you is like breathing for the first time."

"I’d endure every heartache again if it led me back to you."

"Your presence alone silences my chaos."

"You’ve unlocked parts of me I thought were lost forever."

"When you hold me, the world ceases to exist."

Rekindling Old Flames

"I see fragments of who we were, and it makes me yearn for what we could be."

"The fire may have died, but the embers still burn within me."

"Every memory of you feels like both a blessing and a curse."

"Can we begin again, or is the past all we have left?"

"Loving you once was not enough; I want a lifetime of chances."

"The moments we lost now feel like the only ones that mattered."

"Your absence carved a void no one else could fill."

"I never stopped loving you; I just learned to live without you."

"You’ve become the story I can’t stop telling myself."

"Even after all this time, my heart still races at the thought of you."

Unspoken Longings

"I feel your absence more keenly than I feel my own heartbeat."

"You’ll never know how many words I’ve swallowed for your sake."

"I ache to tell you the truth, but fear keeps me silent."

"The weight of unsaid words is heavier than any truth I could confess."

"Loving you in silence feels like slow suffocation."

"If only you could hear the words I scream in my mind."

"Every unsent letter is a testament to my longing for you."

"I’m trapped between wanting to love you and fearing you’ll leave."

"The words I cannot say are etched into my soul."

"In my dreams, I tell you everything I’m too afraid to say aloud."

Yearning and Vulnerability

"You’ve become the ache I can’t soothe."

"I want to be the reason you smile and the one who wipes your tears."

"The closer I get to you, the more I fear I’ll lose myself."

"Your happiness is my greatest wish, even if it costs me my own."

"You’ve seen my brokenness, yet you still choose to stay."

"My love for you feels like both freedom and captivity."

"Every time I push you away, it’s because I fear I’m not enough."

"I want to be your everything, even if I’m only allowed to be your something."

"Your love has unraveled me in ways I never thought possible."

"To love you is to risk everything, and yet I cannot resist."

Sensual Intimacy

"I love the way you make me feel when you're this close."

"You’re so irresistible; I can’t get enough of you."

"Every part of you is absolutely perfect to me."

"The way you touch me drives me wild."

"I’ve been thinking about you all day, and now I can’t hold back anymore."

"You make my heart race every time you look at me like that."

"Your scent is intoxicating; I can’t stop breathing you in."

"I love exploring every inch of your body."

"Tell me what you want—I want to make you feel amazing."

"You’re the only one who knows how to set my soul on fire like this."

"The way your skin feels against mine is heavenly."

"When you’re near me, everything else just fades away."

"You’re so beautiful when you let go like this."

"I love the way your body responds to my touch."

"You’re my favorite kind of distraction."

"There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you right now."

"Your voice is like a melody, and it keeps playing in my mind."

"You taste sweeter than I ever imagined."

"Every time you touch me, it’s like electricity coursing through me."

"Being this close to you feels like a dream I never want to wake up from."

"I want to feel you from the inside."

"Don't stop. Make me whole."

"You can come just like this, I know you do."

"Beg me for it."

"Easy, baby, doesn't that feel good?"

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.

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mswyrr · 1 month ago

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I don't think of the ending of Conclave as a separate, tacked on twist. I see it as the natural culmination of the themes and theological argument of the story. For me, it went along with the reminders of women's subordinated status throughout and the necessity of Sister Agnes for the Spirit to move - what are these hard lines used to limit and demean people? The work of men, not God. In God's eyes, "There is neither... slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one" (Gal 3:28).

What are these supposedly bright lines by which we decide who is worth more than another? Where are they located exactly? Chromosomes? Certain tissues of the body shaped in a particular way? In the mind? Where? Do they truly make sense when we look at the sheer diversity of "God's creation"? Is this a world of simple dichotomies or is that what we humans crave and impose?

Lawrence seeks after the divine, which doesn't actually fit neat human labels, and saw it in someone. In seeing it, he was challenged to expand his understanding. Benitez is, like all people according to Lawrence's beliefs, made in the image of God. Is he willing to perceive something of God he's not comfortable with?

For Lawrence, it's about having the grace to be able to love beyond those limits. He truly wants something beyond him to come down and touch him. He reminds me of this one poem: "I want heaven to descend and sit on My dinner plate / and so do you./ I want God to put His steaming arms around Me / and so do you" (Anne Sexton, "Jesus Dies"). But when heaven descends and sits on your dinner plate, it is not, cannot be, an easy experience. It challenges him.

Before him is an image of God in a shape and life history he has not been taught to recognize or understand. But he will try to love and move with this impossibility, beyond his fear and confusion. It's an act of humility over the sin of certainty - instead of telling another human being (the image of God!) you should take X shape, you should make Y kind of sense, and if you don't I'll hurt you -- he opens his heart. He loves this person and he loves God too, who came down and refused to be simple or easy. "Whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen" (1 John 4:20).

From a more universal pov: what is all the horror and domination and death we see around us but a violent and twisted refusal to see ourselves as one - part of the same biosphere, part of each other? What is the bigotry we see capturing so many minds but a refusal to see each other--in religious or humanist terms--as *sacred* parts of something beautiful - nature or the divine or both? Powerful men seek to dismember humanity and the planet to deny "you are all one". Ordinary bigots look at the sacred in another person and, if that person doesn't take the precise shape that they want, they try to hurt and destroy them instead of expanding their understanding.

The final "twist" is a deep, spiritual and philosophical repudiation of that. The whole story was something I needed, but particularly that. We can embrace the light in each other, without trying to control or dim it. We can have the courage to love beyond our understanding and find grace in that. To let our sense of the sacred, in whatever forms that takes, speak to us instead of trying to make it the instrument of our own ego.

#conclave spoilers #conclave #conclave meta #thomas lawrence

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banana-with-a-bow-tie · 6 months ago

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is being gay/trans REALLY a sin? Is being attracted to the same sex/wanting to dress as the gender you feel you should be really all that bad to christians? Why do christians care what people do with their own lives to the point that they tell them it’s “sin”

I'm seeing three questions here. 1. What is sin? 2. How do we know something is a sin? 3. Why do Christians care if people sin?

What is a sin?

In order to understand what sin is you need to understand who God is. God is good. He does not just possess good or desirable qualities. He is good. The word "good" comes directly from the word God because God is the very standard of what it means for something to be good. We can say things like flowers and sunsets and sharing are good because they are based on God who is the source of everything good (James 1:17).

God is also our Creator. He designed us according to His perfect goodness so that we could be like Him and walk in His good ways (Psalm 25:8; Hebrews 12:10). God would be unloving to create the world and not follow His goodness.

Sin, then, is our rebellion against God and His goodness. When Adam and Eve first sinned, they were tempted with the idea that they could be like God and decide what is good and evil for themselves. They wanted to be able to say, "God is not king, I am king. God's ways are not good, my desires are good."

This is a lie from the father of lies. Satan wants us to believe that if I just do whatever I think is best then I will find true goodness and satisfaction, but all it does is lead us further and further away from true goodness which comes from communion with God (Psalm 34:10).

2. How do we know something is a sin?

When Adam and Eve sinned, our communion with God died. We all like sheep went astray and turned aside to our own ways. (Isaiah 53:6). We stopped listening to God's loving care and instead started following our hearts, but our hearts are deceitful and wicked beyond understanding (Jeremiah 17:9).

We cannot listen to our attractions or our feelings because we are attracted to and find pleasure in things that God declares are evil, things that are contrary to His good design. If people did not find pleasure in things like cheating on your spouse or stealing, then they would never do it. They are drawn into wrongdoing by their own wicked desires (James 1:14).

But God is still good. He has not left us without a witness. He has given a conscience to people who are hostile to Him so that even they can recognize when their desires are not good. We all know inherently that lying is bad, that pride is bad, that fighting and anger are bad, because God has hidden His law in our hearts (Romans 2:15).

However, because we have deceitful rebellious hearts, we try to justify ourselves and explain it away and muffle the conscience so it can't bother us any more, like searing your hand with a hot iron so it can't feel anything (1 Timothy 4:2).

The only way we can know something is sinful is by God giving us new life and enabling us to trust in the goodness of His Word again. We can know with certainty that all sexual desire outside of marriage is sin because God told us it defies His character and people do it because they want to rebel against Him, so God gives them what they want (Romans 1:24-25).

3. Why do Christians care if people sin?

Ray Comfort tells a story about a man who hated homosexuals. There was a broken elevator in his building with a sign on it that said "DANGER! OUT OF ORDER!" The hateful man saw two lesbians approaching the elevator so he took the sign down so they would use it and fall to their deaths.

God has given us a clear warning in Scripture that following your heart is dangerous. It's like an addictive drug, numbing your mind with pleasure so you don't realize it's killing you. If someone you loved was overdosing in front of you, you wouldn't say "whatever man, live your truth." You would shake them awake so they could see what is happening to them and try to get them help. If I believe that God's warning is telling the truth, the most unloving and hateful thing I can do is not tell anyone about it. Woe to me if I see judgment coming and don't tell anyone how to be saved (Ezekiel 33:6)!

Christians aren't trying to control you or force you to follow their personal preferences. Some people who profess Christ do that, but mostly we have met a God who loves us, who saw us hurtling in a downward spiral of guilt and shame and earning eternal punishment for our crimes against Him, and choosing to show us forgiveness in an unfathomably kind way.

Every single one of us has disobeyed God and tried to take His place on the throne. We all stand guilty before God not just for things like murder or homosexuality, but for lying and envy and idolatry. We have broken God's laws and because He is good, He cannot leave evil unpunished. The wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). Every single one of us dies because it is what we have earned for ourselves. We deserve for God to give us His wrath and anger for waging war against Him (Romans 1:18).

But God is rich in mercy and abounding in love even to those who hate Him. We owe God a righteous life, but none of us are righteous, so God decided to wipe away our debt by living the perfect life for us. God became a man, Jesus, lived a perfect life, then died on a cross, taking the wrath of God we deserved, then rose again on the third day, proving that the price had been paid, then He ascended to God's right hand to offer Himself as the reason people can stand before God as righteous.

God does not delight in the death of the wicked. He does not want you to keep trying to find your identity in yourself. He wants you to know Him and His love for you. He wants to wipe away your sin and make you white as snow. What you need to do is confess your sin to God, which means to agree that you are guilty of rebellion against Him and that He is truly Lord, and you must believe that He will forgive your sin and give you eternal life because of what Jesus did for you on the cross. God is faithful and just to forgive the sin of anyone who asks Him (1 John 1:9)

I care about what you do with your life because I love you and because God loves you, just like a Father loves His children and wants what is best for them. I don't want you to miss out on the amazing gift of grace God is offering to you. Don't let Satan keep deceiving you. He promises you peace but all he can give you is death. Every promise of God will always come true (Titus 1:2)

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eff-plays · 2 months ago

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Long Taash storyline rant by an enby 2, electric boogaloo

I think I finally figured out what to say about Taash's storyline so walk with me here.

It smacks a little bit of white lib homonationalism. If you don't know what homonationalism is, it's when Western countries see themselves as enlightened for being "more" accepting of queer folks compared to other cultures, and when this is used to justify racist (particularly anti-immigrant) politics. Usually you'll have far-right wackos claiming to be so so so pro-gay rights that they simply MUST keep the immigrants away in order to protect those sweet fragile white gays, who will surely be totally fine under a fashy regime.

Now, I'm not a sociologist and I might be talking out of my ass by making this connection. But as a nonbinary, non-white first generation immigrant, who was raised by a single mother who wanted to be free of the politics of her home country and thus moved in order to create a better future for me, when I played the Taash storyline, I got the distinct feeling that the writer of it either had a blissfully conflict-free coming out, or that they have no idea how complex the interplay of identity and culture can be. Or that they're a white lib who thinks getting somebody's pronouns right is more important than being an open-minded and fundamentally compassionate human being at heart.

Thing is, I understand what they were going for, kind of. In isolation. It was supposed to be a tragic death where Shathann finally revealed that she accepted her child as they were, right before dying, and it left Taash feeling like they were cut off from her when things were finally looking like they could be fixed. At least they know their mother loved and accepted them at the end, which makes it bittersweet, right?

But that's kind of what pisses me off about this, y'see. Because in practice, Shathann died for the sin of unknowingly misgendering her child, and for attempting to call them trans instead of nonbinary specifically. And she died because it was the easy way out for the writer -- kill the complex mother who comes from a culture deemed problematic in order to avoid dealing with how they'd move forward together, and how their cultural upbringings would clash with yet be mitigated by their familial love for each other. Help Taash choose between Rivaini or Qunari now that their mother's influence and opinions are gone and they don't have to wrestle with her culture anymore, just what they themselves think of it.

I don't think Taash's mother has any actual right to decide which culture Taash belongs to, that is Taash's decision, but the writers know that her influence would still make things more complicated for Taash. And we can't have that, right? Taash has to decide for themselves, as is their right, their right as a queer person to make decisions independent of and not affected by their mother's backwards culture. Their queerness takes priority, nay, dictates how they relate to their nationality/cultural belonging. Anything that might infringe upon that holy self-realization must be removed.

Y'see where I'm going with this? Y'see why it makes me a little uncomfy?

Now for the part where I put my on stink on it. My mom does not get my being nonbinary. She asked me a bunch of really ignorant and gross things when I came out in her attempt to understand it, or rather, refute it. The whole discussion lasted for about 2 panic-filled hours, and I don't think I changed her mind on anything. She still makes uncomfy comments about trans people. She still misgenders me, though this is partly due to our mother tongue not having any gender-neutral pronouns.

And yeah, all of this hurts, no doubt about it. But the thing is? My mom still loves me. She shows it with nearly everything she does outside of this enby stuff, but even with this stuff, she never pushes me to be more feminine. She said she'd switch to my new name if I ever decide to change it. She once apologized for putting "female" for me on a form she had to fill out because there were no nonbinary options. She bought me a perfume for men just because I idly remarked it smelled nice.

And I know what you're thinking, and yes this is a difficult situation to be put in. It's hard, but it happens every day, in families like mine. When your parent was raised to believe one thing, and have for decades, and they're confronted with something new, the switch won't be instant, or happen at all. And I knew that before coming out to her.

I was Taash's age when I came out to my mom, so Taash would've known that, too. And what's even more frustrating, is that Shathann doesn't even resist the revalation, like my mom did. She tries to apply a concept she is more familiar with in order to understand Taash, but since that concept isn't 100% exactly what Taash identifies with, she's in the wrong, immediately. Taash blows up at her for not instantly getting the name and concept of a completely new term dropped onto her head. And all we can do is console Taash on how poorly it went, but whose fault is that? Shathann removes herself from the situation when she notices Taash is about to blow a gasket, because what's the point in discussing anything with somebody who's already rejected your attempts at understanding them, while demanding you understand them?

And before somebody says that I don't "get" what Taash is going through, start reading the post from the beginning but really read it this time. For those who might say that Taash is justified in expecting the worst on account of how Shathann has been raising them up until now, then I raise you this: If Taash knew their mother wouldn't initially get it, why did they blow up when she immediately tried to get it? If they expected her to reject them, why are they still mad when she doesn't? Did they expect her to attempt to use a cultural concept she's familiar with in order to understand their identity, but didn't have an explanation ready to also frame it in a way that'd be familiar to her?

Instead, the order of events is essentially this: Shathann raises Taash in an overbearing way and places high expectations of femininity on them > her and Taash clash over this frequently > Taash, knowing how their mother is but feeling the need to come out to her anyway, says they're nonbinary > Shathann is confused yet calm, asks if they're trans > Taash gets instantly upset > Shathann, still confused, leaves the situation > Rook comforts Taash on how bad that went and says their mother will surely come around > Shathann, off-screen, figures out what nonbinary is, dies using the correct pronouns and confirming that she does love them for who they are > Taash is sad their mom dies but hey, at least they know she loved them at the end.

Shathann being a somewhat traditional Qunari, her expecting femininity, are all initially framed as obstacles for Taash to overcome. The overbearing, traditionalist parent must be confronted with the truth and realize their idea of their child is wrong. But before things can get too complicated, too bitter, and Taash has to actually confront this "obstacle", Shathann is instead removed from the equation entirely and killed in order for Taash to have their identity confirmed.

Except in that coming out scene, Shathann's characterization takes a strange, seemingly unintentional turn, and rather than reject her child's identity as the plot structure demands, she tries to understand it through her own limited framework. What's telling is that the narrative frames this as equivalent, that not immediately grasping a new concept and term is the exact same as outright rejecting it. It's framed as it being just another instance of her rejecting Taash's personhood and being dogmatic in her beliefs, but that only works if you're in that white lib mindset of "if you don't immediately understand my specific view of things and use the exact correct words that you might not be familiar with, you're a close-minded asshole and a bigot". If you're like me, whose genuinely very loving mother doesn't grasp the concept of being nonbinary, or if you just have a sliver of basic reading comprehension, you'll realize that Shathann is literally, in that scene, TRYING. But because she doesn't immediately get it right, it's deemed as insufficient, we're made to comfort Taash over their mother's grave insult, and Shathann is then killed for drama, but not before confirming that omg, she got it!! She got the fucking words right, and that means she finally loves them for who they are, which she apparently didn't do before!! All is well!!

Nevermind that Shathann is fine with Taash having female lovers, nevermind that, in Qunari culture, Taash being a dragon-hunting warrior would've effectively made them trans already and Shathann seemingly had no issues with that? (This is probably just a plot hole lbr.) Nevermind that she uprooted her whole life in order to provide a better life for her child, and nevermind the part where she admits she's done a poor job as a mother yet still clearly loves her kid. She didn't immediately get the new words and concepts right!! So she has to use the right words before she dies, in order for Taash to finally know that their mother loves them properly.

It's. Kinda gross. You know? It feels like Shathann, rather than being her own person, is essentially a prop to confirm Taash's identity, while hers is shifted around as the plot needs it. The plot both wants her to be an obstacle for Taash to overcome in affirming their identity, but also for her to affirm said identity. It conflates Shathann not immediately understanding and asking questions as her not accepting her kid, as her not loving her kid. And to fix that idea in Taash's mind, she has to die for them while also using the correct pronouns. That's an insane fucking thing to write.

If Shathann was instantly accepting, then that's boring and low-stakes. We can't have a parent who instantly accepts their kid, we want that family drama and painful coming-out story. Taash needs somebody to assert their identity over. BUT we don't want to deal with a parent not accepting their kid at all, that's just a bummer. So Shathann has to be unaccepting enough for Taash to have a conflict, but accepting enough that Taash doesn't have to assert themselves or fight too hard to be understood and accepted. Because that's just a bummer. And might signal that being nonbinary isn't valid and a-ok and totally cool and epic and awesomesauce and take my upvote and leave my good sir.

What's frustrating is that it could have worked. Have Shathann be like "Well you're a warrior, I thought you were aqun-athlok but didn't want to bring it up" and have Taash be like "No it's different, not like that" and Shathann be like "Ok then explain it to me." And maybe don't have Shathann get it fully at the end, but have her try. Have Taash come back from an off-screen conversation with Shathann and say that "We're good. She doesn't quite get it yet, but I think we'll be ok."

But instead, Shathann gets it!! Woo!! But then dies so. Don't even worry about it. At least Taash's enby-ness is validated with Shathann's dying breath. Because that's what really mattered in the end. Taash being so so so so so valid.

#datv critical #veilguard critical #it's really funny how this character and storyline were basically 1-1 a retelling of my experience with being nonbinary and multicultural #and yet it SUCKS SO BADDDDD lmaooooo #written by somebody who has literally no fucking idea what they're talking about #we could've had it aaaaaaa-aaaall #rolling in da deeeeee-eeeep

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dllamarama · 1 month ago

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I will probably remember this scene for a long time. When I saw it the first time, I already knew that this will require a long post.

I really loved it when both the main leads are completing each other’s words to show that they are connected. Yes we have seen this kind of scene a lot previously. But, in this context? To this extent? I think this is the first for me.

We all know that both of our main leads are exceptionally smart. But, even in that situation where they are desperate, I was simply amazed. They both knew the intention of the psycho mom (let me remind y’all again that the mother is a criminal psychology professor and the country’s first negotiation expert) was to make him suffers as she had for the last 20 years by not knowing that her son had always been alive.

Yoo Yeon Seok acting in the scene was also a masterpiece yet again. The emotion and desperation was palpable through the screen. His control of the emotion of Saeon during that scene was immense as he did not went overboard while threading it closely as losing his mind. Because his opponent is someone who can read his mind at a glance and if he had a burst of unnecessary emotion, it would ruin the whole pace of the scene.

The desperation in Saeon’s voice was apparent but he had a full conviction that the psycho mother had kept Heejoo alive. He knew her too well, living and being trained in that woman’s household. When I watch the first episode, I had hoped that he was actually the son to this crazy woman or at least just a random un-named orphan that they took in as an exchange for the psycho Baek Saeon. I believe that all the years Saeon had lived in under her roof, she must have thought and felt the immense hatred towards him because he is the kind of son that she wanted to have instead of that psychopath.

But he is the son to the man that killed her child (a psychopath indeed but her child nevertheless). She can never had half a heart to take a pity to our Saeon because of his bloodline. If the psycho Saeon had actually died during his childhood, and our Saeon is just a random orphan, there can be a possibility of this crazy mom to actually took a pity to our Saeon and had a somewhat diplomatic relationship with him. She was impressed at our Saeon after he correctly deducted her action and intention.

Although it was said that he resembles Baek Jangho because of his intelligence and competence, to me he was closely resembled the psycho mother instead of his biological father. And the psycho Baek Saeon actually have an uncanny resemblance to Baek Jangho as they both till the end thought that killing another human is not a sin that they should be atoning. They had fully believed that they did the right thing. At the end of the series, Baek Yuyeon was the negotiation expert sent to rescue the Korean nationals from the armed militants. A title that was once belongs to the crazy mother. I know the mom is also a killer, but in the sense of similarity and resemblance, it is not a stretch to say that the mom had played a big role in shaping our Baek Saeon/Baek Yuyeon in becoming who he is now.

#when the phone rings #genuinely love this scene #yoo yeon seok #chae soo bin

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munchmemes · 10 months ago

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taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part two

guilty as sin?

▸ my boredom's bone-deep. ▸ am i allowed to cry? ▸ i'm seeing visions, am i bad? or mad? or wise? ▸ one slip and i'm falling back into the hedge maze. ▸ oh, what a way to die. ▸ i keep recalling things we never did. ▸ how i long for our trysts. ▸ how can i be guilty as sin? ▸ i keep these longings locked inside a vault. ▸ someone told me there's no such things as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. ▸ they're gonna crucify me anway. ▸ what if they way you hold me is actually what's holy? ▸ i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

▸ the "who's who?`" of "who's that?" is poised for the attack. ▸ you don't get to tell me about 'sad'. ▸ if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive. ▸ who's afraid of little old me? you should be. ▸ the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. ▸ at all costs, keep your good name. ▸ you don't get to tell me you feel bad. ▸ is it a wonder i broke? ▸ let's hear one more joke. then we could all just laugh until i cry. ▸ i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean. ▸ they say they didn't do it to hurt me but what if they did? ▸ i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. ▸ you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. ▸ isn't that what they all said? that i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong. ▸ you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. ▸ you caged me and then you called me crazy. ▸ i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

▸ the jokes that [you/they] told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. ▸ they shake their heads, saying "god help [them]" when i tell 'em you're the one. ▸ i can fix him, no really i can. and only i can. ▸ i could see it from a mile away. ▸ you had a halo of the highest grade, you just hadn't met met yet. ▸ come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night. ▸ trust me, i can handle me a dangerous [man/woman].

loml

▸ we were just kids, babe. ▸ i don't mind, it takes time. ▸ i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed. ▸ i felt aglow like this. never before and never since. ▸ you and i went from one kiss to getting married. ▸ you said i'm the love of your life about a million times. ▸ a conman sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme. ▸ i felt a hole like this never before and ever since. ▸ what we thought was for all time was momentary. ▸ i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all. ▸ the coward claimed he was a lion. ▸ i'll still see it until i die. you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart

▸ i can show you lies. ▸ i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit. ▸ they said 'you gotta fake it 'til you make it' and i did. ▸ you said you'd love me all your life but that life was too short. ▸ i can do it with a broken heart. ▸ i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day. ▸ i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art. ▸ you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart. ▸ i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since [you/they] left. ▸ i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

the smallest man who ever lived

▸ was any of it true? ▸ now you know what it feels like. ▸ i don't miss what we had. ▸ in public, you showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion. ▸ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man. ▸ were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? ▸ good riddance 'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. ▸ i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside. ▸ in plain sight you hid but you are what you did. ▸ i'll forget you but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy

▸ this happens once every few lifetimes. ▸ these chemicals hit me like white wine. ▸ what if i told you i'm back? ▸ the hospital was a drag. worst sleep i ever had. ▸ ditch the clowns, get the crown. ▸ what if i told you we're cool? ▸ honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy? ▸ where's the trophy?

clara bow

▸ all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose? ▸ i'm not trying to exaggerate but i think i might die. ▸ this town is fake but you're the real thing. ▸ take the glory, give everything. ▸ promise to be dazzling. ▸ you're the new god we're worshipping. ▸ beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours, demanding more. ▸ it's hell on earth to be heavenly. ▸ them's the breaks, they don't come gently.

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #roleplay meme #lyrics rp meme #lyrics meme #taylor swift lyrics rp meme

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candy69gurl · 10 months ago

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POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 6

Warnings- consequences of self harm, private touching

wc- 2.3k

You wake up abruptly, your eyes flutter open, your body drenched in sweat. You stare at the ceiling, your head pounding, hands reaching for your phone. Messages from your friends and Gojo Satoru fill your screen.

It's 5 AM, you realize, feeling disoriented.

You struggle to get out of bed, your legs feeling unsteady. You notice a warm sensation between your legs, realizing you're wet, your core feeling damp and humid. You head towards the basin.

Staring at your reflection, you notice that same short hair, droopy eyes.

Suddenly, you vomit, bile burning your throat as you stagger back, your stomach twisting in revulsion.

Then.. Everything comes flooding back to you, the Malevolant Shrine, the tangled intimacy with Sukuna, the swirling mix of pain and pleasure...

You freeze in place, your heart hammering against your ribs. Panic claws at the edges of your mind, the looming specter of pregnancy flooding your thoughts. You vividly recall Sukuna's climax, the fear of its consequences gripping you.

With trembling limbs, you collapse to the ground, tears tracing salty paths down your cheeks.

"Oh, God," you whisper, your voice a fragile tremor. "Am I pregnant?" Your mind whirls in a tempest of uncertainty, grappling with the weight of the possibility.

In a sudden twist, Sukuna's lips form on your cheek, his tone dripping with mockery. "Are you daft? You're not pregnant," his voice laden with disdain cuts through the air.

"But why do I feel sick?" you inquire, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

"Oh, dumb girl," he croons, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I merely indulged your soul, not your mortal shell," he chuckles softly.

Your heart lurches, a surge of bewilderment flooding your senses.

"So, my soul was... defiled? Then, I am still untouched?" you stammer, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Sukuna's grin widens, his lone eye glinting with malice.

"Yes, your physical form remains pristine," he confirms, his voice icy. "But your soul will forever bear the mark of our encounter, even if it traverses to another vessel," his words drip with menace.

Shock grips you tightly, leaving you staggered.

"What have you done... to my soul?" you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with dread.

Sukuna's grin stretches wider, malevolence gleaming in his eyes. "I've granted it an unforgettable taste of ecstasy. It will ache eternally for more of me, regardless of where it may reside," he purrs, satisfaction evident in his tone.

"You... monster!" you spit out, your anger boiling over.

"Mhm, daring to insult me once again?" Sukuna's voice challenges you, daring you to defy him.

Fury courses through you, igniting your veins.

"Yes! A monster, you are!" you shout, a fire lighting within your eyes. "Why did you do it? Why would you taint my soul like this?"

Sukuna's laughter rings through your mind, a mocking soundtrack to your turmoil.

"Because that was the only way to tame YOU," he replies, his voice laced with arrogance. "Besides, your soul was so eager, so ready to embrace the sin we offered. Why resist temptation?"

A new wave of disgust washes over you, a bitter tide of betrayal.

"I feel sick.. So sick," you cry out, your chest heaving. "And now, I'm left with the memory, the shame... I hate you, Sukuna!"

His laughter dies down, replaced with quiet, cold amusement.

"Perhaps, that's where you're wrong," he whispers, his voice like icicles. "You crave me, desperate for more, even if you deny it. And I believe you'll come begging for it, sooner than later," he predicts.

The accusation leaves you reeling, struggling to regain your footing.

"No..." you gasp, your denial wavering. "I can.. NEVER."

Another wave of laughter washes over your mind, a cruel riptide in your mind. "We shall see, darling. We shall see," he promises, his voice ringing with dark confidence.

With a shudder, you turn away from the mirror, wiping your tears.

"This doesn't change anything," you vow, your voice firm. "I'll never let you control me, never let you win."

Determination courses through your veins, a steely resolve settling into your core.

Nausea gnaws at your insides, your body rebelliously refusing to accept sustenance. Each bite results in heaves, bile scalding your throat. As if to torment you, Sukuna's presence lingers, smug and triumphant.

"Why can't I consume anything? My head hurts so much," you complain, your frustration palpable.

Sukuna chuckles softly, his voice caressing your mind, "You see, dear, you bled profusely last night," he explains nonchalantly, "While I healed your wounds, your body isn't used to such treatment. The trauma is taking its toll on your equilibrium."

Your stomach churns, the reality sinking in. "Is there... nothing I can do to feel better?" you plead, your voice trembling.

Sukuna's laughter echoes in your mind, a cruel serenade to your plight.

"Ah, do you understand now?" he mocks, his voice syrupy sweet. "You shouldn't have tried such foolish acts, suffer now."

Your heart pounds, rage coursing through your veins.

"That's your fault," you snap, your voice sharp with anger. "You made me angry"

He sighs, his voice laced with false regret, "This is what I get after healing your body? Accusations?"

As you run your fingers through your hair, the thin strands catch uncomfortably. A decision forms in your mind. Slipping on a cap, you step into the quiet morning, hoping to evade notice.

Alas, fate conspires against you - Gojo and Yuji materialize in front of you, concern etched on their faces.

"Hey, you alright?" Gojo questions, his brow furrowing. "And why the cap?"

Your heart skips a beat, guilt gnawing at you. "Oh nothing.." you mutter, avoiding their gaze. "Getting a haircut."

Yuji tilts his head, studying your face, "Is everything alright?" he asks, worry lacing his voice. "You don't seem well."

Laughter of Sukuna flashes through your mind, "Go on tell them you tried to kill yourself."

Ignoring Sukuna you speak up, "Just tired, Yuji," you dismiss, forcing a smile. "Really, it's nothing."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his gaze. "Let's go to Shoko," he suggests firmly. "We need to check on you."

Your breath hitches, anxiety coiling around your stomach.

"I'm fine, really," you insist, trying to shake off their concern. "Just a bad night's sleep."

Yuji frowns, his eyes searching yours. "Pls tell us if something's wrong," he urges, his voice filled with sincerity. "We're here for you."

Your heart aches, gratitude and guilt warring within you. "Thank you, both," you murmur, offering a weak smile. "I promise. But today, I need some space, please?"

Gojo nods reluctantly, his gaze softening. "Alright, then. Just remember, we're here if you need us," he assures you.

Yuji reaches out, gently touching your arm, "Take-", but all of a sudden, he pauses, looking at you in disbelief.

"Y/N, you are cursed", Yuji speaks, withdrawing his hands from you.

Your eyes widen, shock washing over your face.

"Remember, you are not allowed to tell them anything", Sukuna warns, his voice clear through your mind.

"Yes, Fuck you Yuji," you laugh waving at them leaving the scene with confidence.

Yuji looks at Gojo after you leave, " I feel weird sensei. She is indeed hiding something from us."

Gojo replies, " I am aware of that. Gotta do something about it."

At the parlor, you opt for an undercut, the stylist expertly trimming your locks. As the transformation unfolds, you can't help but feel renewed. With a fresh look and restored energy, you venture back to your place.

"Don't mess with my hair again", you threaten Sukuna in your mind.

"Don't provoke me then," Sukuna retorts, matching your tone.

Throughout the day, you attempt to eat, engaging in small battles with Sukuna.

"I blame you for this," you grumble, your voice laced with irritation. "For making me feel like this."

Sukuna's voice echoes in your mind, "Oh, spare me your misplaced outrage," he responds, his tone dismissive.

"You ruined everything!" you retort, your voice shaking with anger.

"Everything, yes," he agrees sardonically. "Except for the fact you are still alive."

Silence descends between you, the weight of his words heavy. You swallow hard, conceding his point.

The evening casts its shadow, painstakingly slow hours stretching before you. Despite Sukuna's taunting, a faint empathy seeps through his words. Silent tears track down your cheeks, blurring your vision. An overwhelming sense of helplessness consumes you, your heart heavy.

As darkness falls, you retreat to bed, unable to find solace in sleep. Tossing and turning, rest eludes you. Your thoughts swirl like a tempest, each wave crashing against the rocks of your soul. You remember, Gojo and Yuji tried to comfort you today, their concern gnawing at your conscience.

Guilt tightens its grip, suffocating you.

Sukuna's voice echoes in the silence, "Stop pitying yourself," he advises, his tone unexpectedly gentle. "It doesn't suit you."

Torment gnaws at your insides, hunger and sleeplessness conspiring against you. Each rumble of your stomach serves as a reminder of your failure. Frustrated and desperate, you toss and turn, seeking solace in the darkness.

Sukuna's voice cuts through the silence, "Enough of this self-flagellation," he drawls. "Do something about it."

Curiosity piqued, you listen as he continues, "Touch yourself. Release the tension, and perhaps find sleep."

Defiance courses through your veins, your jaw tensing. "No way," you retort, your voice firm. "I'm not going to listen to your perverse suggestions."

Sukuna's laughter resonates, a sinister melody in the dark.

"You know it would ease your predicament," he purrs, his voice teasing.

Your heart races, temptation coursing through you. But you resist, adamant. "Not happening," you state resolutely, turning away from him. "If I fall asleep you will do weird things to with my body again."

Sukuna's laughter fills the void, his voice rich with amusement. "Fair enough," he relents, his tone mockingly placating. "But if you change your mind..."

Unsettled, you huddle under the covers, the weight of his words heavy on your mind.

Trembling, you hesitate, the truth of his words gnawing at your resolve. Gripping your sheets, you reach for your clit, the sensation immediately electrifying.

Sukuna's voice intrudes, "How delightful," he croons, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "You are really doing it."

Embarrassed heat floods your cheeks, mingling with pleasure. Ignoring him, you focus on the rising tide of sensations, each stroke bringing relief. Despite the distraction, your hand continues its steady rhythm, easing your restlessness.

He chuckles, "So vulnerable, so weak."

Sukuna's voice filters through your mind, his words laden with smug anticipation.

"You know I can help, right? Make it better?" he proposes, his tone smooth.

Unease twists your insides, but you consider his offer for a moment. With a final resolve, you push him away.

"No," you utter defiantly.

His voice drips with disappointment, "You can trust me right?" he sighs, resignation evident in his tone.

"That's the least thing I do", you spit.

With a shaky breath, you continue, focusing on the building sensations. Pleasure washes over you, slowly ebbing the turmoil within.

Sukuna's voice pierces the quiet, "Feeling good?" he inquires, his tone laced with curiosity.

You nod, your breath ragged. "Yes... I've never felt like this before."

A pause ensues, suspense hanging heavy between you..

His voice hums with satisfaction, "Then let's take it further. Insert, one finger," he suggests gently. "Just one."

Hesitant, you consider his proposal. Fear threatens to undermine your courage. "I don't know... I'm scared," you confess, your voice wavering.

"Don't worry you can take it", Sukuna assures you.

Cautiously, you follow his instruction, inserting one finger, gasping at the new sensation. Waves of pleasure wash over you, heightening your arousal.

Sukuna's voice vibrates with approval, "See? Doesn't it feel good?"

Breathlessly, you agree, "Yeah... it feels good."

Another pause stretches between you, anticipation mounting.

"Two fingers," he encourages softly. "Go ahead."

Pulse racing, you obey, adding a second finger. A fresh wave of pleasure engulfs you, your moans growing louder.

Sukuna's voice resonates, "Good girl," he praises, his tone approving. "Now, deeper."

Obediently, you move your fingers, exploring deeper. A surge of ecstasy courses through you, your body trembling in response.

His voice echoes in your mind, "There you go. Keep going, feel it."

As you continue, an uncanny sensation unfurls – a mouth forms from your palm. Its tongue flicking and lapping at your clit sends shockwaves of pleasure cascading through you. Overwhelmed, you cry out, your body bucking involuntarily.

Sukuna's voice rings triumphantly, "Ah, the moans you are making.."

Panting heavily, you struggle to respond.

In awe, you stifle your cries, covering your mouth with your other hand. Despite your efforts, the sounds escape you, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Simultaneously, a second mouth appears, its tongue delving into your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Sukuna's voice rumbles with satisfaction, "Shh... It's okay," he murmurs, his tone husky. "Let go."

Your body trembles, pleasure and embarrassment warring within. As his tongues dance against your clit and lips, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation.

His voice echoes in your mind, guiding you. "Come for me," he coaxes, his tone seductive.

With a final, fierce thrust, you climax, a deafening scream trapped behind your hand. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes into you, obliterating all thought. Your body convulses, surrendering to the bliss.

His voice resonates, "That's it, sweetheart. Let it flow."

As the storm subsides, you collapse onto the bed, breathless and spent. Relief washes over you.

Sukuna's voice echoes in the stillness, his tone encouraging.

"Again," he urges softly. "This time, play with your nipples too."

Reluctantly, you obey, adjusting to his request. Your fingers explore your nipples, their sensitivity surprising you. Combined with the continued stimulation, a familiar fire blooms within.

His voice hums, "See how responsive they are?"

With renewed vigor, you succumb to the sensations. Pleasure builds once more, escalating with intensity.

Unexpectedly, your hand halts, replaced by a sudden invasion. His tongue plunges into your hole, sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you. Meanwhile, the hand manipulating your nipple transforms into a mouth once more. It suctions your nipple, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

The dual assault overwhelms you, a potent mix of pleasure and surprise. One tongue probes deep within you, its rhythmic motions stirring your core. Meanwhile, the suction on your nipple intensifies, a delicious pull that leaves you breathless. Sensations overload your senses, each action synchronizing in perfect harmony.

"Oh god!" you gasp, your body arching involuntarily.

His voice hums in your mind, "Almost there," he promises, his tone tantalizing.

Intense pleasure swells within you, threatening to break free.

"Please..." you plead in your mind, "Gonna cum again."

Sukuna's voice echoes in your mind, "Cum on my tongue, let me taste you," he assures, his tone confident.

The onslaught continues, his tongue and lips working in harmony. You teeter on the edge, each touch pushing you closer.

With a loud cry, you orgasm again. Ecstasy engulfs you, washing away all thoughts. Your muscles contract, riding the intense waves until exhaustion takes hold.

His voice whispers in your ear, "Well done, human."

Exhausted, you sink back into the pillow, your breathing labored. In the afterglow, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the residual pleasure.

Sukuna's voice lingers in your mind, "I wanted you to orgasm a few more times but for today, rest."

"O-oversenstive", you say before drifting off to sleep.

While you're lost in sleep, a shift occurs. You're unaware of the change, unmindful of Sukuna's return. His consciousness merges with yours, awakening a sense of familiarity.

His voice hums in delight, "Ah, it feels so good to be in this flesh again."

Curiosity piqued, he explores his newfound freedom, his fingers tracing your body. An instinct guides him, his digit finding your clit.

He chuckles, startled, "Whoa, it's clenching like crazy! and so fucking wet.."

Unease creeps in, his action initiating a reaction. Oversensitivity courses through your body, amplifying even the slightest touch.

His voice trembles, "Oh fuck.. this is so sensitive."

His fingers continue to explore, reveling in the hypersensitive state. Each stroke incites a jolt of pleasure that reverberates throughout your body.

His voice quivers with disbelief, "Damn, I didn't think it would be this strong!"

Unable to resist, he indulges in the experience, daring to venture deeper. Your body responds predictably, a fresh surge of desire building. Thighs shaking, abdomen twitching.

Ignoring the oddity of the situation, Sukuna dives in, his fingers delving into you. The oversensitivity catches him off guard, a low moan escaping your lips. The sound is foreign, a deep male voice emanating from your feminine form.

"M-mhm, a-ah this.. this feels better than that day's", his deep voice softly echoing the room.

Despite the peculiarity, the pleasure beckons. His fingers continue their assault, your body responding eagerly. Each thrust sends rippling waves of ecstasy throughout.

His voice groans, "I c-cant stop.." his tone strained. "Can't resist."

Driven by curiosity and pleasure, he persists, the feeling too exhilarating to abandon. Your body writhes beneath him, reacting to every touch.

His voice rasps out, "So tight, so hot... Perfect."

The feeling intensifies, nearing a crescendo. He struggles to maintain control, each thrust fueling the impending release.

His voice shakes, "You're going to come again..."

And you do, a third round of orgasms tearing through your body. Your body arcs, gripping his intruding digit in a desperate attempt to prolong the pleasure.

His voice growls, "God, this body feels incredible."

Once the storm subsides, Sukuna pulls back, his eyes wide with wonder. The unusual sensation lingers, a testament to your newly discovered oversensitivity.

With reluctance, he releases you, allowing consciousness to seep back in. As awareness returns, you find yourself in sleep.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13 @zurakoofgintama

Dividers from @cafekitsune

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

Text

The Doubt & The Delight

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, description of physical and mental disabilities, remorse, depression, hysteria attacks, swearing, trauma, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 1 − The Knight & The Judge Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

This is the last part of this story. Thank you all for such a nice reception of this entire mini-series, it was supposed to be a oneshot, but as usual it turned out to be something more! This is probably one of my favorite works here and I can't wait to hear your opinions.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night, after what had happened between them, he sobbed silently for the first time since the day of the accident in which his parents died. He didn't know what else he could do − he felt helpless and couldn't sleep, despair completely possessing his heart and mind.

Don't ever touch me again.

We are even.

He clenched his eyelids, letting the tears run down the sides of his face onto the pillow lying under his head.

Some part of him wanted to go to her door, to fall to his knees and beg her to open it for him, to let him hold her close, to fall asleep in her embrace.

He needed her so much, but he knew he had no right to demand anything from her.

She was doing more than she had to anyway.

He shuddered as he heard the sound of the door opening; stupefied by the sedatives and painkillers for a moment he had no idea where he was or who he was − he raised himself up on his elbow and hissed, feeling his head ache incredibly.

He opened his eyelids and immediately closed them, blinded by the light from the windows − he gave up with a sigh laying back on the couch, trying to calm himself down.

"Daeron?" He called out loudly, trying to remember what had happened, whether he had drunk too much alcohol the evening before or overdosed on sleeping pills.

He heard someone's footsteps and froze when he saw her frightened face; she came towards him with her eyes wide open as if looking at a ghost, stopping at a safe distance.

"− I'm just helping him change, we'll come soon − God, how pale you are, should I call the doctor again? −" She muttered clearly genuinely horrified by his condition, but he shook his head quickly.

"− did you call the police yesterday? −" He asked lowly, thinking with horror that no one at the prosecutor's office could find out that he was still struggling with his trauma and had almost caused a car crash.

She shook her head quickly, playing with the fingers of her hand in a nervous gesture.

"− n-no − the man we almost collided with wanted to do it at first, but when we got out of the car and said you'd fainted he called an ambulance and let it go − he apparently decided you'd just had some sort of attack and didn't want to add to our problems −" She replied once looking him in the eye, once looking away − he could see that she clearly wasn't coping with the situation or what had happened between them.

He sighed in relief, running his hand over his face, thinking about the fact that securing Daeron's fate was now his priority and he needed to pull himself together.

"− I'm going to go help Daeron and we'll make something for breakfast soon −" She said quickly and turned away, moving down the corridor towards his little brother's room, disappearing behind the door.

The two of them had tried not to look at each other all morning, heartbroken and horrified by what had happened between them − they both felt that their lives had slipped out of their control and he resented himself for dragging her into it all.

The doctors advised him to stay at home for a few days and rest, so he called Alys to ask her to bring him his documentation.

"− sick leave? − something happened? −" She asked concerned, and he sighed heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, not having the strength for this discussion.

"− I've been overworking lately, I need to slow down − can I count on you? −" He asked matter-of-factly, hearing her snort of amusement on the other side.

"− sure − I'll be there in half an hour −" She replied calmly and hung up; he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and put the phone down on the table top.

He glanced over his shoulder, hearing the sizzle of the pan and shuddered meeting her gaze − she lowered her eyes immediately as if caught in the act, concentrating on not burning the pancakes, Daeron wheeled around her in his wheelchair placing clean plates and cutlery beside her.

They ate breakfast together, both of them really only talking to Daeron, passing cups and juice to each other out of politeness only. He felt a pleasant shudder when his fingers touched hers, looking her straight in the eyes − her lower lip twitched a little, only a quiet, sad thank you came out of her mouth.

As they ate Daeron said he would do his own homework and then change her to look after him, as if he was now the one to take on the role of his caretaker.

As he left his Esmeralda stood up, picking up the dirty dishes from the countertop − he took his plate from her hand, swallowing hard.

"− no need, I'll do it − I'm better now, I don't want to force you to stay here any longer than necessary − thank you very much −" He said in a low voice, getting up from his seat and stepping around her, opening the dishwasher with a light movement, tossing in the cutlery and other dirty dishes she'd held earlier.

He felt her looking at him, his heart pounding like crazy, for some reason he wanted to cry again.

"− I'm sorry − for what happened yesterday −" She muttered in a whisper and he raised his shocked gaze to her, frozen still.

She stood in front of him covering her mouth with her hand, trying to silence the loud, ragged breath that shook her body along with the sob that wanted to break from her throat, tears began to fall from the corners of her eyes one after another.

God, she was remorseful.

"− no − no, stop − you didn't do anything wrong, I wanted it −" He said quickly, but she shook her head.

"− I couldn't sleep − I felt awful −" She uttered with difficulty, choking on her own tears, and despite her telling him never to touch her again he put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him in one sure movement − her body did not put up any resistance to him, her fingers tightened on his sweatshirt in a helpless gesture.

"− I-I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you −" She mumbled out and burst into quiet sobs.

He thought with despair that he had broken this poor girl, brought her to a state where she felt like an abuser.

He embraced her tightly, snuggling his face into the hollow of her neck, stroking her back reassuringly − her wonderful scent and the warmth of her body had a soothing effect on him, he thought he wanted to remember this moment for a lifetime.

"− I'm the one who hurt you − I took something away from you and you tried to get it back − you asked me if I wanted it and I made it clear that I did − easy − breathe deeply − it's all right −" He whispered in a trembling voice, running his large hand through her back and hair. She snuggled into him so tightly that he felt tears under his eyelids himself − he pressed his lips together not wanting to let them flow out but it was no use.

"− thank you for everything − I'm feeling better now, I'll be fine by the time Helaena arrives − go home and get some rest − I'll think of something and explain to Daeron why you can't work for us anymore − I'll send you your pay by transfer so you never have to see me again − hm? −" He asked softly and she only nodded, her whole chest trembling in convulsion as she drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

He wanted to tell her that she was the most wonderful person he had ever met.

He wanted to tell her that if she ever needed help, she could always count on him.

He wanted to do that, but he only flinched when he heard the doorbell ring, reminding himself of Alys − they moved away looking at each other in pain, the sight of her wiping her cheeks red from tears broke his heart.

He realised that he was a monster.

As soon as he opened the gate for her, Alys walked into his house with thick folders of documents in her hands, looking elegant as usual in her jacket, long trousers and high heels. She smiled at the sight of his Esmeralda, and she pressed her lips together realising with horror that she stood dressed only in his hoodie.

"Good morning. We don't know each other yet." Alys said to her and held out her hand to her − she, not knowing what to do, herself embarrassed by the situation and how it looked shook her hand, squeezing it firmly.

"Good morning." She muttered and just threw to him that she was going to go see how Daeron was doing with his homework − Alys led her away with her eyes looking at her with a calm, curious expression on her face.

"Who is this beautiful little flower? In addition wearing your hoodie I think." She asked amused, a note of mock accusation in her voice, as if she had solved the equation. "Is it because of her that you can't concentrate lately?"

He threw her one warning, sharp look, which did not deter her, however − he sighed heavily and shook his head.

"She's Daeron's caretaker and she had to stay here to help me take care of him after I fainted yesterday. They were at a carnival ball together and she had nothing to change into." He replied coolly, wanting to end the subject quickly, frustrated.

"Is that why you both cried?" She asked lowly raising an eyebrow, the piercing look in her bright green eyes told him clearly that she felt the tension that hung in the air between them. He swallowed loudly, looking away, not wanting to look at her smile full of satisfaction.

"Thank you for bothering to come all the way out here. I'll be gone for a week, we're in touch." He replied dryly − she threw over his shoulder that if he needed her for anything he could count on her and smiled at his Esmeralda heading for the exit, saying it was a pleasure to meet her.

As the door closed behind her there was an awkward silence between them. He saw that she was wearing his hoodie and shorts that were too loose on his brother but on her they fit perfectly despite the manly cut, in her hand she held the bag with her costume.

She was leaving.

He will never see her again.

"Are you sure you can manage?" She asked uncertainly, not looking at him. She seemed pale to him, he thought that for some reason Alys' visit had saddened her, but he didn't even dare assume it might have had anything to do with him.

At most, she might have thought he was a bigger bastard and pervert than she suspected.

"Yes, we'll be fine. Thanks again." He muttered, trying not to look at her, but to poor effect, thinking only of how wonderful it was to hold her in his arms, how tightly she snuggled into him seeking refuge and comfort.

He realised that he craved such closeness from her as much as the touch of her naked body.

He wasn't just about sex.

She, however, merely nodded, raising her sad, tired, embittered gaze at him once more, and after a moment she turned and disappeared behind the door.

The hours leading up to Helaena's arrival he spent with Daeron, playing together FIFA'23 and other games that his brother thought would distract him from all the unpleasant events of the past weeks.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine. You just need to rest. It's good that you and Esmeralda have reconciled." He said clicking beside him on his pad, trying to win a race against him on the big space track. He swallowed hard, thinking with pain and shame that they hadn't reconciled at all, that they weren't even.

What she did was a desperate attempt by her to regain what he had taken from her, the feeling that she had power over her own body.

It didn't bring her any relief though − it seemed to him that it made her feel even worse.

She wasn't like him − she'd probably never behaved like this before, and she was horrified to find that she didn't recognise herself.

He had destroyed her, taken away her innocence, devoured her.

He pressed his lips together, trying to stop the burning tears that forced their way under his eyelids from flowing and grunted loudly, trying to focus on the game.

As he prepared the room where his sister was to sleep, and where his Esmeralda had previously spent the night, he noticed a purple cloth lying on the floor. He reached out and picked it up, realising after a moment that it was a scarf she had worn on her head in the form of a headband.

He pressed it to his face and closed his eyes, with a squeeze in his throat thinking that the material was permeated with her scent.

He kept it.

Helaena had arrived straight from the airport in a taxi for which she had paid crores − as soon as she stepped inside she dropped her suitcase, ran up to him and threw herself into his arms. He burst out sobbing, feeling her familiar, tender closeness.

He wasn't sure when was the last time someone had hugged him, stroked him, told him everything was going to be alright, that now he was the one being taken care of.

Taking the opportunity that Daeron was playing in his room on his laptop, they sat side by side on the living room couch to discuss what had happened.

"I think I've stopped coping. I'm slowly losing my self-control." He muttered, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he needed to at least partially throw off what was going on inside his head − he felt his sister stroking his back comfortingly.

"Me and Aegon left you alone with all of this, sinking into our own grief. We all focused on Daeron because we decided you were older and better able to handle it all." She said with pain and some kind of regret, as if she only now realised that he wasn't a fully formed adult then either.

He let the air out of his lungs, feeling like a small, clumsy child again, embarrassed that he wasn't coping, that he had chaos in his head, that he was stuck and unable to get out of the mess he had sunk all the way into.

"I thought it would be good for you to have a change. For you and Daeron to fly with me for a few weeks, get some rest, during which time we can work together to find you some sort of therapist, someone to help you get over all this." She said warmly, and he shook his head quickly, terrified of her suggestion, of having to reinvent himself somewhere, of not being in his home, of not having his things and activities.

"No, I can't do that. I need a rest, but here, at home. I do think, however, that it will do Daeron good to spend time with you, to get away from it all. Maybe when I have a bit of time to myself I can somehow…sort it all out." He muttered, feeling her worried gaze on him.

"You shouldn't be left alone."

"I haven't been alone with my thoughts for five years. I need this." He said regretfully, realising that he had devoted all his strength to his younger brother, leaving himself with nothing.

He felt empty.

"And he needs a change of environment. He sees me gloomy and tired every day. You will help me the most if you take care of him for a week or two so that I can get myself in order."

"You have to promise me that you will go to therapy. You're taking on too much on your shoulders." She said cautiously, and he nodded to her, wanting everyone to finally give him a break.

Daeron was at the same time happy about the sudden unplanned holiday, but on the other hand very worried that he was going to be left alone at home.

"But who will take care of you? Esmeralda?" He asked hesitantly, and he replied that he would manage on his own, that they would talk on the phone every day, that he just needed a bit of rest to think things over.

As they packed to leave he was with them in body, but not in thoughts which drifted far away to her, to what had happened between them.

Despite the fact that they had sex with each other twice, it was the memory of that morning in his kitchen when he held her in his embrace that he remembered most, the innocence and tenderness of that gesture, the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the fact that for a moment she had allowed him to get close to her.

He knew he would never see her again.

Waving them off, already seated in the taxi, watching them drive away he wondered what the point of living such a terrible person like him was.

He cleaned the whole house, sorted the papers in his office, put up the laundry and emptied the dishwasher, doing everything unhurriedly with complete silence all around him, only the sound of the wind outside the windows and the quiet pounding of raindrops against the windowsills.

He finally sat down on the sofa, staring dully ahead, before lowering his gaze to the small container of sleeping pills he'd been taking for days to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He wondered how many he'd have to swallow to not wake up.

He didn't know why his hand reached for his phone − his fingers tapped out a question on Google and, to his surprise, many different topics on forums about how to commit suicide painlessly popped up.

He read statements from some young, desperate, frightened people who couldn't cope with life and responses from others, some encouraging them to commit the act and explaining how to do it, others asking them not to do it, that they would be happy to talk to them, to support them through this difficult time.

He thought of Daeron, of how if he had done it, his little brother would have completely broken down, that it would only add to the pain of his whole family, and that Helaena would never forgive herself for leaving him alone.

That it would have been selfish of him.

On the other hand, his mind reminded him of his aggressive, merciless interrogations, the way he approached witnesses, the way he approached Alys, what he did to his Esmeralda when she recognised at once his malicious, dark nature.

How was someone like him supposed to continue to take care of Daeron? How was he supposed to pretend that he was a good man who could advise him on anything, be his authority?

He thought that his little brother should have stayed with Helaena − she was the calmest of them all, surely she would have handled his parenting much better, given him what he needed.

He reached for a small container of pills and stared at it, turning it between his fingers with a loud rattle, wondering dispassionately what he should do with himself.

He hummed as if he remembered something and slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a thin, purple folded cloth − he looked at it, feeling the need to call her.

He didn't know why he would do that when he was sure she didn't want to see him and couldn't even look at Daeron, to whom he would have to explain why she would no longer be taking care of him upon his return.

He guessed that she would only pick up out of politeness, and he would again flood her with his problems, his suicidal thoughts, forcing her to worry about him, to feel sorry for him even though he didn't deserve her sympathy.

He didn't even know when he unscrewed the container, when he tilted his head and poured its entire contents into his mouth, taking a deep sip of water after this, letting his judgment of himself run deep into his stomach.

He seemed to regain his sanity only after a moment, staring at the empty vessel wondering what he had actually done.

Oh fuck.

God, what had he done?

No, no, no, no.

He went into a complete panic, his heart started pounding like crazy − he didn't know how much time he had before he lost consciousness, so in a gesture of helplessness he dialled her number quickly, wondering if she would answer from him this time.

He thought he was pathetic, but he was scared, there was no one else to turn to − his body was shaking all over from stress and terror, his breathing quick and raspy, tears of fear in his eyes.

Biip.

"− hello? −"

He heard her uncertain voice on the other side and drew in the air loudly, shocked, swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, running his hand over his face.

"− fuck − I − I − I did something very, very stupid − I took a whole packet of sleeping pills − I don't know what came over me − oh fuck, what have I done −" He muttered in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, like a helpless child who had broken a vase and realised what his parent would do to him when they found out.

"− what? − oh God − are you home? − I'm calling the ambulance −"

"− n-no − no, fuck, they'll kick me out of the national prosecutor's office − please −"

"− go quickly to the bathroom and try to induce vomiting − give me the code to your gate, I'll be right there −"

He seemed to act in an amok, as he rose from the couch everything around him swirled − she told him to take his phone to the restroom, so he did.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, shoving two fingers down his throat − after several attempts he finally threw up, whooping with his tears, coughing loudly, his whole body shaking in convulsions, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

How could he do this, how could he be so selfish?

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled, sliding slowly to the ground, feeling his mind begin to envelope in a blissful peace and quiet, her voice coming from the speaker of his phone seemed to him only a distant whisper.

He thought he would take a nap for a while, rest and when he woke up everything would be fine.

It seemed to him that minutes, hours or years might have passed when he felt someone move his body − he shuddered as someone's fingers forced their way between his lips, his numb body powerless to resist.

"− come on, please − get it out of you − God, what have you done − please, please, come on −" He heard her crying beside him, the tips of her fingers pressing against the back of his tongue, until finally his stomach convulsed with a powerful spasm, and his body threw it all out with his throaty cough of exertion.

He heard her sobs, smelled her scent, her closeness, how her hands washed his face with water, how she stroked his head as she hugged him to her breasts, mumbling in despair that he was a fool, something warm and soft enveloped them.

He fell asleep, recognising that this was what heaven must have been like.

When he woke up he felt everything around him spinning − he muttered in displeasure, another cramp squeezing his stomach.

He pulled himself up, in the dark looking for the toilet, at the last moment leaning over it and vomited again, panting loudly, everything around him blurred, it seemed to him that it was morning.

He heard movement beside him − someone's hand touched his back and stroked him with a gentle, affectionate gesture as convulsion again shook his body, which was trying with all its might to rid itself of what he had swallowed the day before.

Nothing more than a mumble left his mouth, his head drooped involuntarily − he felt someone pull him back to keep him from sliding down onto the tiles. He lay down, something soft enveloped him again.

"− it's okay − sleep −" He heard her whisper and thought that the pills he had taken were causing him to hallucinate, that he was probably dreaming it all, and since he was and she wasn't really there he could embrace her, his arm grabbed her waist, his face snuggled between her breasts again with his loud purr of contentment and exhaustion.

He felt her hands embrace him, stroking his head and back − he thought, feeling the hard floor beneath him, that they were lying in the bathroom and she must have brought the duvet and pillows from his bedroom, sleeping in that room with him.

He fell asleep and woke up hearing someone walking around his house, once in a while someone touched his head − he heard her voice asking him some questions that he was unable to focus on − she was only answered by his frustrated sounds indicating that he just wanted to sleep on.

Finally when he opened his eyes he managed to see anything − the bathroom door was open, the light in the room was off. He had a perfect view of the corridor and part of the living room lit up in the sun − he heard someone's footsteps, his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her silhouette in the doorway.

"− hey − hey, how are you feeling? −" She muttered walking up to him and kneeling beside him, her loose hair in a slight disarray, she was wearing shorts and a plain white Tshirt. He looked away from her breasts when he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra, swallowing hard.

He didn't reply, feeling an overwhelming sense of shame, remembering what he had done, how disgusting and selfish he had acted, that he had forced her to help him again despite having caused her such harm.

"− I − I would like to talk to some therapist −" He choked out with tears in his eyes, not looking at her but somewhere in front of him, his breathing shallow and uneven − it seemed to him as if his lungs had completely clenched.

"− alright − alright, I'll look for someone nearby − okay? −" She asked tentatively and he just nodded, unable to look her in the eye. He heard her get up quickly, and a moment later she was back, sitting down next to him with her phone in her hand, typing something quickly on her screen, apparently scrolling through the accounts of doctors who had offices in the same town.

"− there's a Dr Smith, he's got a free appointment in two days at one o'clock in the afternoon, or a Dr Morgan, but he… −"

"− anyone − as soon as possible −" He said dispassionately, looking blankly ahead, heard her swallow hard and click something quickly, heard his phone vibrate beside him on the floor.

"− I've booked you an appointment and sent you details via message −" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"− thank you − you can −"

"− I spoke to your sister on the phone while you were asleep and told her everything − we agreed that Daeron will stay with her and I'll watch over you until your first appointment −" She said coldly with some kind of regret from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling his body tremble and closed his eyes, wanting to just disappear.

He shuddered, looking at her in disbelief as she slipped her purple scarf out of the pocket of her tracksuit shorts, the same one he'd found on the floor and kept. She tied her hair with it, combing it into a ponytail, staring straight into his eyes.

"I found this on your couch. Did you think of me before you did it?" She asked, with soft, sure flicks of her fingers arranging her curls as she saw fit. He swallowed hard at her question, feeling a burning sense of embarrassment.

"− yes −" He sighed. She let out a quiet breath at his words, placing her hands on her thighs.

"− are you able to get up? −"

With her help he managed to rise with difficulty − he brushed his teeth feeling the still disgusting taste of vomit and acid on his tongue and then lay down on the sofa, grabbing his head. He watched her silhouetted in the kitchen as she opened the cupboards one by one until she found his first aid kit.

He saw her throw away all the packets of sleeping pills he had.

"− hey −" He threw to her wrinkling his eyebrows, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink without them.

"− you'd better not speak −" She said warningly, without giving him a single glance, so he gave in, sighing heavily and closing his eyes, figuring there was no point in arguing.

To his surprise she moved around the rooms as if this was her home, sat down next to him at the other end of the sofa with an apple in her hand and turned on the TV as if nothing had happened. He looked at her, wondering if she was really going to sit here for days, but then decided it didn't matter.

When he finally got the phone call from Helaena he listened to almost half an hour of a litany from her about how irresponsible and selfish he was, only to hear a moment later that she loved him very much and that he needed to start taking care of himself − he assured her several times that he already had an appointment with a therapist, and Esmeralda wouldn't leave his side.

"− is that what you call me? −" She asked quietly after he had hung up, looking at the TV screen on which the news had just been airing. He looked at her surprised, realising that it wasn't actually her real name after all.

"− yes −" He replied lowly, playing with his phone between his fingers.

They didn't talk much to each other apart from the usual basic politeness. After a couple of hours he felt well enough to get up − he was still dizzy and still had no appetite, but he drank plenty of water and thought with relief that the danger had passed.

Evening finally fell and, tired after all that had happened, he simply headed upstairs to his bedroom, wanting to give her some solitude and privacy.

Changing into his pyjamas, which consisted of a simple t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms, he shuddered and looked in disbelief at the door to his room when it opened, her figure stepping inside as if nothing had happened, climbing on his bed, lying under his duvet, turning her back to him.

What?

He pressed his lips together, wondering if he should say something or not, but in the end he couldn't resist.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to sleep. I'm tired. Could you turn out the light?" She asked quietly.

He grunted and, as she requested, walked over to the switch, flicking it, complete darkness fell all around them.

The thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed with him, even if only to keep an eye on him, made him instantly hard.

He lay down at a safer distance behind her, looking at her back and neck, knowing that she could feel his breath, but not daring to touch her.

He wondered if she was punishing him this way, showing him that she was at his fingertips, but after what he had done there was nothing else he could do but watch.

It would have been enough for him if he could have just jerked off looking at her, concentrating on her scent and the fact that she was next to him, but he felt he had no right to bring himself relief after all of this.

He didn't deserve it.

That's why he was just dying in agony, writhing − without his pills despite his fatigue he could not fall asleep, on top of that he was too aroused, her closeness was driving him crazy.

"− will you stop squirming? − I can't sleep −" She muttered at last, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with furrowed brows.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in desire at the sight of her face, at the thought that she didn't have a bra under her shirt, that there were her lovely breasts under that material that he could caress all night.

"− sorry −" He just choked out, trying to calm his breathing, his cock pulsed painfully swollen under the material of his sweatpants.

He made big eyes and flinched, embarrassed as she pushed back the duvet that covered them both, her gaze going to his trousers and what was going on inside them.

A tense silence fell between them − he could feel his whole body quivering with desire, grief and shame.

He wondered if she would mock his state and his desperation.

"− we can do it if you want − like civilised people − I'd like to experience some sleep tonight −" She said softly and he looked at her in disbelief, the bulge in his sweatpants twitched hard at her words.

"− are you sure? − I wouldn't −"

"− make me feel good −" She said quietly.

He drew in the air loudly as she said this, grabbing the material of her t-shirt and lifting it, pulling it over her head, revealing her lovely breasts to him.

She sighed loudly when his face immediately pressed against her nipple, alternately sucking and licking it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her back. She moaned quietly, surprised when he pulled her to him, her palms sliding into his hair, holding him close.

They lay on their sides, embracing each other in a tight grasp. He wriggled in disbelief and delight, willing and eager to show her how much he regretted it, how much he desired her, how much he loved her − his hand grasped tentatively her other breast, kneading it with his fingers.

"− so soft −" He gasped, listening to her quiet sighs of pleasure. He felt her throw her leg against his waist, which he grasped confidently, clenching his fingers on her thigh and pulled her closer, letting her feel how much he wanted her, his manhood throbbed impatiently beneath his trousers, hitting her stomach.

"− how −" He asked between flicks of his tongue licking and sucking her hard, puffy nipple like a little child, stroking the soft skin of her hips. He slipped his hand under the material of her shorts, tracing his fingertips over her plump buttocks, wanting to be sure that this time he would do everything the way she needed it, give her pleasure and reassurance, at the pace and the way she wanted it.

She stroked his hair at his question and placed a short, warm kiss on his forehead − he murmured lowly as he felt her begin to rub against him, encouraging him to do the same, his lips letting go of her nipple with a loud plop to look at her.

"− you on top − but touch me down there first −" She whispered embarrassedly, turning onto her back, pulling his arm behind her, looking at him with a gaze hot with desire and affection.

He leaned in, letting his swollen lips brush hers, which responded immediately to his caress, her fingers cupping his neck, deepening the kiss.

"− mmm −" She hummed, squirming beneath him. He ran his hand down her body, in a tentative, unhurried motion slipping his hand under the material of her shorts, wanting to give her time to react, but she sensing this spread her thighs wider, easing his access, his fingers finally running over her swollen, hot, wet womanhood.

"− God, little one − I want to use my mouth here −" He gasped appreciatively, thinking only of the fact that he had been dreaming of this for weeks. He smiled involuntarily when he saw her nod quickly, her sweet, full lips parted in an accelerated breath.

"− okay −" She whispered quietly, letting him slide the material of her shorts and underwear off her − he marvelled at the sight of her naked body, thinking with some kind of emotion that he felt like crying.

"− so beautiful −" He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, on her womb, on her hip, on her thigh, knee and calf. He looked at her and noticed that she was watching him intently, her breasts rising and falling in uneven breaths, her hands on either side of her head.

"− come here −" He murmured softly, in a gentle motion pushing her hips closer to him, spreading them in front of him − he heard her gasp loudly as he leaned over her bared flesh. He let his hot breath envelop her skin before his nose ran over her hot, soft womanhood, his lips lazily clinging to her folds, placing a lingering, sticky kiss on them.

He tightened his hands on her thighs when he felt her throw her head back with a sweet, surprised moan, her fingers traveling to his short hair, stroking it in impatient motion, pressing his face close to her body.

"− please −" She mumbled, and he huffed with amusement, trailing his lips up to her puffy clit, sliding then down to her leaking, swollen slit, teasing her barely, not giving her what she needed.

"− no − we're going to do this very, very slowly − with due respect to you −" He hummed contentedly, feeling some kind of pride that he could do it this way, could give it to her and be what she needed.

She whimpered softly, writhing before him, her breathing quickened and shuddered, her body trembling in his hands, thirsting for fulfilment.

"− don't be cruel −" She mumbled resentfully, as if she thought he was teasing and taunting her. He sighed quietly, placing a warm, hot kiss on her sticky skin − a surprised, loud moan escaped her lips as the tip of his tongue suddenly forced its way inside her, deeper and deeper with each stroke, imposing an intense, fast pace on her.

"− o-oh fuck, yes, lick me −" She mewled, clenching her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips against his face, trying to find a more intense source of rubbing. He smirked under his breath as he discovered after a moment between her fleshy muscles the spot he was looking for, her whines increasingly pathetic and helpless, her walls beginning to throb around his tongue.

He heard her whimper his name, her whole body tensed as if she was trying to break away from him, but he didn't stop, letting her come on his face.

He purred contentedly as he felt how much of her moisture flowed out of her tight entrance, determined to make sure he licked every drop and not let anything go to waste despite her cries.

He surprised her when he didn't pull away, but repeated all the steps from the beginning, slowing his pace again, merely teasing her with his lips, her body twitching at his every move, overstimulated and delicate.

"− n-no more − I want you inside me −" She mumbled softly, and he looked up at her, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling her words in his trousers.

Even though he planned to spend the whole night between her thighs, he couldn't refuse such a request.

"− it's okay − there you go −" He hummed, rising to his knees, slipping his sweatpants down just enough to release his swollen, hard erection leaking from his precum. He placed one hand next to her head, the other guiding the fat, pink head of his cock between her widely spread thighs.

"− such a good girl − hm? − my sweet little baby, am I right? −" He cooed and she nodded quickly, looking at him with big eyes hazed with desire − it seemed to him that she didn't recognise him, that she didn't believe he was the same man she had met then.

He didn't believe it himself, but it felt wonderful.

They both sighed loudly when, with one slow thrust, he opened her wide on his swollen length, leaning over her, pressing his forehead to hers, her trembling hand rising to stroke his cheek, her lips pressed to his in a warm, innocent kiss.

He murmured contentedly, forcing her to fit all of him inside her with an impatient thrust of his hips − he heard her quiet cry of discomfort and surprise and swallowed loudly feeling his manhood pulsing intensely inside her, so hungry for her closeness.

She closed his waist between her legs, crossing them over his back, and he lay on top of her, pulling his t-shirt off quickly, resting his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her, feeling her little, puffy nipples on his naked chest.

She sighed sweetly, looking up at him dreamily, trailing her fingers down his face and neck as he slipped out of her only to sink into her again a moment later with a loud click of her moisture − she was all wet and warm inside after her intense orgasm, her muscles squeezing him wonderfully from all sides.

"− that's it − just like that - it's okay −" He whispered tenderly, letting himself sink into the taste of her sticky, plump lips again, her hands trailing down his sweaty, muscled back as he involuntarily sped up his pace, pressing his nose to her cheek, slamming into her with more and more sure, brutal thrusts of his hips, groaning low along with her.

"− oh, fuck, baby −" He gasped, listening to her moans of pleasure, her insides wonderfully warm and tight, quivering all over in sensation, soaking him wet. He began to root aggressively into her weeping cunt panting hard, all around them only the loud sound of their moist, naked bodies slapping quickly against each other.

"− please − please − please −" She mumbled out looking up at him with her mouth wide open, digging her fingers into the hot skin of his back − he could feel her walls clench around him tighter, sucking him inside. He shuddered hard at her words, focusing now only on rooting again and again into her warm, fleshy interior.

"− I don't know if I'm going to let you sleep tonight − I think I'd rather do this with you instead −" He breathed out into her mouth, pushing his tongue deep into her throat − he felt her body shake as she convulsed, her hands clenched painfully hard on his body as she came a second time with sweet mewl of effort, panting loudly as if she couldn't catch her breath, her muscles began to throb greedily around his cock, sucking him inside.

He tilted his head back and sighed in relief, a few sloppy, rough thrusts prolonging the inevitable − his warm cum spilled deep inside her, a hot wave of pleasure surging through his lungs.

He crushed her with his body, feeling their bodies quivering and twitching all over, both of them panting hard as if they had run a marathon, their hands running blindly over each other's naked skin as if they wanted to calm and soothe each other.

"− I love you −" He muttered, lying with his eyes closed, his nose snuggled into her hot, soft cheek. "− you know that, don't you? −"

"− yes −" She answered him quietly, and he sighed heavily, snuggling into her like a small child.

That much was enough for him.

He didn't expect anything from her.

He just wanted her to know it.

He spent that night as if in a frenzy, holding her close, embracing her from behind tightly with his arms, their legs entwined together in disarray. He fell asleep with his face pressed against her hair, completely overwhelmed by her wonderful scent, the warmth of her naked body, one of her hands placed on his making sure he didn't let go of her soft breasts.

They hadn't said much to each other after they awoke − when he turned her face towards him and he just sank into her swollen lips in a sticky, hot kiss. She purred sleepily at this caress, her fingertips running over his jaw.

She let him take her a second time then, from behind this time − she was so wet from their shared moisture that he slid into her without much difficulty, stretching her wonderfully tight walls with a sigh of delight.

He rooted into her with lazy, slow thrusts of his hips, making sure that each time the fat head of his cock rubbed her sweet spot, one of his hands playing with her puffy, little nipple, the other sunk deep between her thighs, teasing her swollen clit.

"− do you want me to stop? −" He whispered in her ear, and she shook her head, digging her fingers into his arm with which he embraced her at the waist.

"− n-no − it feels good −" She muttered in embarrassment − he kissed her hot cheek with a sticky click of his saliva seeing her lips parted in accelerated breath, her dreamy, warm gaze.

"− so I'm afraid I'm going to fill you a second time, sweet girl −" He hummed, running the tip of his nose over her pretty face. She moaned quietly at his words, feeling him suddenly speed up, slamming into her with more confident, brutal pushes − she tilted her head back, his lips immediately pressed against her neck.

"− d-don't − don't leave marks −" She mumbled out, quickly clenching her hand in his hair − she whimpered softly as she felt his fingertips dig harder into her fleshy folds.

"− I won't, baby − shhh −" He hushed her, running his lust-swollen lips over her soft skin, feeling her weeping walls squeeze him greedily at his words, forcing him to thrust into her more aggressively, his fingers sinking into her plushy thigh, holding her in place, panting along with her.

"− ah, G-God − She babbled, responding helplessly to his movements with rocking, both of them groaning in pleasure and relief as her muscles began to clench against him in a sudden orgasm, his thighs all sticky with her wetness.

"− yes, that's it − oh baby −" He muttered, letting go, with the last of his strength thrusting into her for a moment more before his seed filled her to the brim.

He hid the tip of his nose in her hair with his eyes closed, panting loudly with pleasure, holding firmly her body trembling in fulfilment in the tight embrace of his arms.

"− can I stay inside you? −" He whispered into her ear and she only nodded, falling into slumber again a moment later.

For the first time in many years he didn't have to get up at dawn, he didn't have to focus on work, on Daeron, on anyone or anything more than himself and her.

He couldn't believe it was really happening.

He lay thinking only of the fact that he was deep inside her, that he could feel her and smell her − he placed one of his hands over her heart wanting to feel how it beat, how her chest rose and fell in calm breaths.

The days before his appointment with the psychiatrist he had spent between her thighs.

She walked around his house wearing nothing but his T-shirt and it was enough for him standing behind her to lift its fabric a little to see her lovely, plump buttocks.

"− stop − we need to eat something −" She muttered as he knelt on the kitchen tiles while she was trying to prepare dinner for them, so that he could kiss her hot, soft skin with a murmur of satisfaction. His hand slipped lower, between her thighs, his fingertips collecting her moisture mingled with his semen, a reminder of what he had been doing to her all day.

"− I adore you −" He gasped, sliding his lips lower, placing warm, sticky kisses on her thighs and calves, he heard her quiet sigh.

"− does your friend know that you have a second lover? −" She asked quietly, and he froze, quickly lifting his gaze to her, understanding immediately that she was talking about Alys.

He didn't want to make a mistake and lie, but he also didn't know how to present it so she would know that it was a done deal for him.

"− I stopped seeing her after what happened between us −" He said softly getting up from his knees, looking down at her, putting an unruly lock of her dark hair behind her ear. "− I didn't see the point in it, because all I was thinking about was you −"

He confessed with a kind of pain and weariness, and she lifted her gaze to him, her bright eyes looked at him piercingly, warm and gentle. He leaned in placing a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead.

She snuggled into his chest as if seeking refuge, and he embraced her kissing the top of her head devotedly, running his large hands down her back in a reassuring, tender gesture.

"− I can't promise you anything −" She said at last, and he swallowed hard, knowing what she meant.

"− I know − I don't expect it −" He whispered, cuddling his face into her fragrant hair, closing his eyes, her closeness and her scent calming him in some strange, incomprehensible way.

"− I will always wait for you −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires

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auspicioustidings · 5 months ago

Text

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it.

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I’ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again, selfish asshole that he was.

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused.

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more.

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid.

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt.

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death.

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in.

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood.

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale.

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant.

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on.

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger.

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him.

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home.

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding.

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

#mhairiwrites #never writing long form drama again actually it's a ghastly nightmare #so many dramatic ideas but so little ability to make them happen on a page :')

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runawaymaven · 4 months ago

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guilty as sin ? Paul x reader part 2

Part 1

A/N: I'm taking requests for twilight! mainly the wolf pack!

You blinked, feeling a strange energy pass between you and Paul, a sensation you had never felt before. The way he was looking at you made your heart race, and his stare was so intense that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Embry’s words echoed in your mind: "Imprinted." What did that even mean?

"Imprinted?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, looking around at the group as their laughter died down. "What does that mean?"

The room fell silent, and Sam’s expression turned serious. He cleared his throat, stepping forward and placing a hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, why don’t we sit down for a minute? I think it’s time I explain some things about... our heritage."

You glanced at Paul, whose eyes hadn't left you since he entered the room. His expression was unreadable, and it only added to the confusion bubbling inside you. Reluctantly, you nodded and followed Sam as he led you to the living room, the others staying behind in the kitchen.

Once seated on the worn-out couch, Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at you with a mix of concern and something else—something that made your stomach twist.

"Okay, this might sound unbelievable at first," Sam started, his voice calm but firm. "But everything I'm about to tell you is real. Our tribe, the Quileutes, have ancient legends that have been passed down for generations. Stories about our ancestors being able to transform into wolves."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wolves? Like... werewolves?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly. We have the ability to phase into wolves to protect our people from a very specific kind of enemy—vampires. It's part of who we are, part of our duty."

For a moment, you were silent, trying to process what Sam had just told you. It sounded absurd, like something out of a movie, but the way he spoke—the seriousness in his voice—made you reconsider. There was something about Sam that was different, something about all of them.

"So... you and the others are... werewolves?" you asked slowly.

"Yes," Sam confirmed. "We all are, including Paul."

Your mind was spinning. "Okay, but what does that have to do with 'imprinting'? Embry said Paul imprinted on me, and I still don’t know what that means."

Sam exhaled deeply, exchanging a glance with Emily, who had entered the room and stood by the doorway, offering a supportive smile. "Imprinting is... well, it’s like finding your soulmate. For a wolf, when we imprint, it means we’ve found the person we’re meant to be with. There’s no choice in it—it’s an unbreakable bond. It's not something that happens with everyone, but when it does, it’s instant and powerful."

Your heart thudded in your chest as you processed his words. You turned to look at Paul, who was leaning against the doorway, still watching you closely. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch.

"So... Paul imprinted on me," you repeated, your voice barely audible.

Sam nodded. "Yes, and I know it's a lot to take in. But Paul can explain more. I think it’d be best if you two talked."

Before you could respond, Paul pushed himself off the doorway and walked over to you, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, you took it, allowing him to lead you outside onto the porch. The cool air hit your skin as you stepped out, but all you could focus on was Paul—this boy, no, this werewolf—who had just imprinted on you.

Once outside, Paul let go of your hand, turning to face you. His expression softened, and he took a deep breath. "I know this is a lot, Y/N. And I can’t imagine how overwhelming it must be. But I want to explain what this means—what imprinting means for me, and for you."

You swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "Go on."

"When I first saw you," Paul began, his voice low and sincere, "everything shifted. It’s like... everything else faded away, and you became the most important person in my life. Imprinting means I’ll always be there for you, no matter what. It’s not just about romantic love—it’s about being whatever you need me to be. Your protector, your friend... whatever you need."

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The weight of it all was so heavy, and yet, something about Paul’s presence felt... comforting.

"So, you're saying... we’re bonded now? Like, forever?" you asked softly.

Paul nodded. "Yeah. But I want you to know, I’m not here to pressure you into anything. Imprinting isn’t about forcing a relationship. It’s about being there for you, in whatever way you want. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, but your mind was still racing. This was all too much, too fast. But at the same time, something about Paul’s presence felt undeniably right, like the pull you felt earlier wasn’t just a fluke.

"I... I don’t know how to feel about this," you admitted, looking away for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

Paul stepped closer, his voice gentle. "I get it. Take your time, Y/N. I’m not going anywhere."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time for a while, you felt a small sense of comfort.

"Okay... I think I need time to think about this. Process it"

#twilight #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x you #paul lahote #twilight x reader #twilight saga x reader #twilight wolf pack #twilight wolves

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ferigrievous · 7 months ago

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cardinal sin.

⊹ ࣪our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

a.n direct consequence of being filipino

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; 3.3k ; i. envy (here); ii. greed

touya todoroki was not religious

in the quiet corners of his mind, he envied those who were. it was a comforting illusion, an assurance of order and meaning in a chaotic world. there was always something to count on, something to blame. you knew where you were going to go after you died, and you knew what was waiting for you. but to a man like him, it felt as elusive as a whisper in the wind, slipping through his fingers whenever he really needed it most.

catholicism was a quiet undercurrent in a sea of traditions that make up japan, yet for the todoroki family, it plagued their every waking moment. every room was adorned with religious decor, and sometimes in the dead of night, touya was convinced that the eyes of jesus would move with his every step.

his father would curse those who did not live a life in the name of god, and his mother would pray for them. touya did not know if he belonged. he would go to church every sunday, make the sign of the cross. go through the motions, and then go through them again. page 257. responsorial hymn. the body and blood of christ. sign of the cross, sign of the cross again. it was like clockwork, and sometimes he wonders if the church ever strayed from the path of god.

because if he was made in the image of god, then who was he truly?

the church was both a place of solace and a prison.

there was something freeing about the silence, the cool stone, the dimly lit interior.

and when everyone had gone, touya would often sit under the soft glow of a stained glass window. he would sit in the last pew, watching the evening light play across the stone floor, the reds, blues, and greens casting a glow across his face. he'd stare into the soft light, and imagine that it was illuminating the empty space in his heart.

and somewhere along the line, churchgoing became bar hopping.

the first time he tasted alcohol, he hated it. it tasted like gasoline and smoke.

but the burn, the way it made his head go numb, it was addicting. it was a form of release, the way confession never could be, and touya quickly got a taste for it.

the bar was everything the church wasn't. the soft sounds of religious hymns were replaced the loud beats of pop music, and instead of the cold, wooden bench of the church, it was a sticky, metal stool.

but the noise was a welcome change, one that drowned out the thought of prayer in his head.

it wasn't exactly how his mother would imagine someone like him to spend his friday night. it was exactly what he craved. not for the alcohol, or for the cheap thrill of a conversation with a pretty stranger. not for any of that, because that wasn't touya.

no, he was searching for something else. a freedom from the eyes of a father, and a god.

and freedom was what he discovered in the dingy, local bar.

he learned very quickly that a pretty face would do wonders. a quick flash of a bright, charming smile and the perfect pick up line would always get him what he wanted. people here didnt care that he was a walking, talking corpse, body mutilated in ways unimaginable.

and it was never the pretty girl with delicate hands and soft eyes. nor was it the spunky one with wild eyes and wearing the shortest shorts and a bra top. it was you, always you.

you, who sat all the way in the furthest part of the bar every friday night, nursing a half-empty glass of cheap beer.

you, who never spoke to anyone who would attempt to buy you a drink.

you, who seemed to never take your eyes off him, your cold gaze following him across the room.

he was intrigued.

you were nothing like he expected.

a quiet boy in a den of drunks and the lost. a pretty face that seemed determined to stay out of the spotlight. he’d see how your dark eyes would darken and soften when they caught sight of the exposed flesh on his arms, the way your gaze would linger on the pale skin and burn scars on his hands as they wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

he found himself thinking about you after each night he visited. wondering what made you stay at the bar each weekend as if you were waiting for something.

were you waiting for a miracle, or a sign from god?

did you truly believe that god would show signs in a place like this? in a bar filled with drunk men and broken dreams, and people so lost they didn't even remember their way home? were you really waiting for a miracle here of all places?

and when he finally got to know you, touya would soon learn that you were everything he was not.

you were so achingly beautiful. not just in the way you looked, but in the way you spoke, the way your eyes seemed to always linger on the stars. the way you carried yourself with an underlying sadness that you tried to hide.

he fell in love with the soft flutter of your eyelashes, the shy smiles, and the way your hair would look rumpled in the early hours of the morning.

you were there each and every weekend, and it didn't take long for touya to realise that you'd been waiting for him all along.

god, he was so stupid.

all this time he spent searching for a sign, something to convince him that god had forsaken him.

and the first time he had taken you to bed, he felt like all of his prayers had been answered.

touya took you home, not knowing what he was doing half the time. he fumbled with his keys, stumbled over the threshold of his apartment, and practically slammed the door shut behind him.

he pressed you up against the wall, his body pressed close against yours, his hands roaming over your hips, your chest, your face. every touch and caress was a desperate plea for more, for something deeper, for something more intimate than anything he had ever felt before.

he couldn't seem to get enough of you

he ran his lips over your skin, kissed you with a sense of purpose, a sense of urgency. he wanted to devour you whole, to bury himself in you and never come back up for air again.

touya was a man starving, and you were the one thing that could satisfy his hunger.

the touch of your skin against his own was like the sweetest kind of sin. it made him forget all about the cold, lifeless church to the god who had abandoned him.

your presence was a religion all on its own, and touya was an obedient disciple, ready to worship at your altar every chance he got.

and there, in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, surrounded by the soft, intimate sounds of skin on skin, he found the closest thing to heaven he'd ever felt.

no bible, no holy water or prayers could compare to the feeling of you in his arms. your breath against his neck, the sound of your name on his lips.

the world outside the four walls of his apartment didn't matter anymore. the past, the present, none of it seemed real except this moment, right here, with you.

he was desperate to savour every second of it, to commit every detail to memory. the way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way you tasted like the sweetest form of sin.

he would gladly spend an eternity right here, worshipping you, if you'd let him. and he knew, from the depths of his heart to the darkest crevices in his mind, that this was wrong.

the church would condemn him to hell. his father would curse his name. his own mother would pray for forgiveness, thinking that her son's desire for other men was as blasphemous as the rest of his actions.

but touya didn't care. he was lost to the sinful ecstasy of your body, the soft, perfect warmth of your lips against his skin. he was a sinner, and he would gladly follow you into the fire rather than let you go.

the church taught that love was a gift from god. touya realised that this, here in the darkened corners of his room, was his gift. you were his miracle. the thing he had waited for all this time.

he wanted to keep you close, to memorise every detail of you, to make sure that every part of you was burned into his memory.

and as he lay there in the dark, hours later, with you wrapped around him like a second skin, he realised that you were what he was looking for when he went to church.

he didn't know what to make of it. he'd been in relationships before, but none of them had ever made him feel this way.

he ran his fingers through your hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers, listening to the soft sound of your breathing as you slept.

in that moment, he couldn't blame god for the way he was. couldn't blame him for the scars that covered his body, the way he loved men the way he should women.

you were god's blessing to him, not his punishment.

but god was not that kind. kind enough to grant him your existence, but not kind enough to let him keep it.

he had given touya a miracle, had laid the most perfect, pure thing in front of him for him to cherish.

but the church was also clear about what happened to those who sinned.

the bible said that men who lay with men should be stoned to death, along with those who took a man as they would a woman. they were an abomination to god, and touya knew that he would suffer the wrath of the lord for his transgressions

and so, while his heart was light and he found salvation in your embrace, his mind was dark and heavy. he knew that this happiness was just a brief, temporary respite.

he knew that this love, his love for you, was doomed from the beginning.

“dabi!”

the bar was alive with noise and laughter, a sound that touya once looked forward to. but now, he wanted nothing more than to get out. he sat in the same place as he always did, furthest part of the counter next to the jukebox, nursing a whiskey and watching as you moved through the room like water. gone was the quiet, gentle person he met all those weeks ago, replaced by someone no better than the common alcoholic.

once, this place would have been his sanctuary.

the dim lighting, the sound of heavy pop music, the drunken men in the back of the bar.

he'd been a regular here for as long as he could remember.

but now, it was a prison.

he'd rather sit in the cold, harsh silence of a church than the noisy, chaotic bar. he'd rather listen to the drone of a prayer than the sound of your laughter.

the sound pierced through the commotion, yet it blended in with the chatter and music, as if you had always belonged in this world of chaos. it was a far cry from the sanctity of the church touya had gotten away from, the whispered prayers and solemn hymns nowhere to be found. here, you were free, and touya couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at how easily you adapted to your new life.

envy.

he'd always felt it, deep within him. the feeling that something wasn't fair.

it was in the church. it was in the presence of his father. it was here, in the bar, where you fit in so effortlessly. he felt it, deep in his bones, and in every part of his body.

oh how he was seething with envy.

touya sat in his corner, watching as you worked the room with a charming smile and pretty pick-up lines. he saw how others looked at you, how their eyes would linger on you as you walked by, shamelessly looking you up and down, raking over the skin that was barely concealed.

he hated hearing you flirt with others as easily as you breathed. he hated seeing you touch other men, touch them the way you'd once touched him. he hated the way you would laugh with them. how you'd smile and lean into their touch.

the way they'd get to put their hands on your skin, the way they get to kiss you under the dim light, the way they get to be close to you in all the ways he did. he hated it all.

they were always just some random man you'd pick up from the bar, yet they got so much more of you than he ever had.

what did you see in them? what did you see in them that he didn't have?

you weren't his boyfriend. nor was he yours. you two were not together, and he doubts you’d ever be. he didn't know what to call what you had with him. a situationship? a one night stand? friends with benefits? god, were you even friends?

a stolen kiss beneath the shadows of a church, a touch in the back of a bar, the hushed quiet of his apartment in the dead of night.

it was supposed to be a fling. a meaningless bit of fun, nothing that should ever amount to more than a brief moment of pleasure.

yet, touya found himself here, drowning in a pool of jealousy, wanting nothing more than to pull you against him and claim you as his. every touch, every kiss, every hushed whisper with another man broke his resolved little by little, and it was only a matter of time before it finally shattered.

his bed was empty without you. all he could do at night was think about how another man was pleasuring you, doing what he did all those nights ago. he knows he could be better, he knows that he is better.

his body ached for you.

he knew that he could make you fall apart with just the touch of his hands, could have you begging his for his name instead of those random men's. he knew that he was more than capable of sending you flying over the edge, again, and again, and again.

yet, you were always with someone else. your hands were on others instead of his skin. your lips were kissing others instead of his. what did he do wrong?

touya wondered if this was his punishment, if god had intended for him to suffer as you thrived without him. the church’s teaching echoed in his mind, reminding him of the wages of sin and the inevitable retribution. he had dared to love where he shouldn't, and now, he was paying the price.

and every time you would knock on his apartment, in the dead of night, smelling like sex and alcohol and god knows what else, he would let you in without a word.

he hated it. he knows he shouldn't, that he should tell you to fuck off, to go back to your own apartment and never look at him again. but he could never refuse you, not when you were looking at him like that, with those needy, hazy eyes of yours.

touya wanted to ask you if you were okay, if the men at the bar had touched you with the care you deserve. but he knew you had no interest in answering those questions, at least not while you were like this. all you wanted was to lay down, and sleep.

and you'd come to him, leaning into his chest, and the familiar smell of smoke and whiskey would surround him, making his head spin. you'd nuzzle your face into his neck, and your lips would be hot on his skin, whispering his name with a voice roughened by alcohol and longing.

touya’d gently coax you towards the bedroom, his hands running over your skin. he'd help you out of your clothes, into the spares you left at his, eyes tracing the shapes and curves of your body. he'd lay you gently on the bed, his hands lingering over your skin.

he want so badly to keep you like this, to keep you under him and away from the touch of other men. but he knew that you were just as likely to leave as you were to stay.

after laying down, he’d whisper things into your ear, things he knew he shouldn't say, things that came from the darkest parts of his heart. words about how he wished you were his, how he wanted to keep you by his side, how he wanted to be the only one to touch you.

and you wouldn’t remember a thing when you woke.

you never did.

touya would watch as you slept next to him, the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the quiet sounds of your breath.

and he knew that when you woke, you wouldn't remember any of the things he'd said, the pleas and demands that he'd whispered into your ear. you'd see none of the desperate, possessive way he'd pulled you into his arms, none of the quiet jealousy that had simmered beneath his skin.

you’d wake get dressed, and leave him alone in his bed, returning to the world outside his apartment without a care in the world. sometimes have breakfast, watch a movie, bake a cake. play the part.

touya’d watch as you rose from the bed the next morning, stretching and raking a hand through your tousled hair. he'd see the traces of his fingers on your skin where he'd held onto you, the faint marks of his lips on your neck. but you wouldn't remember any of it, not the way he'd touched you or the way he'd held you.

he'd hate seeing you leave, knowing he'd be alone once again. he'd want to keep you in his arms, to trap you in his bed and never let you go. he'd want to keep you locked away from the world, all to himself. but he knew that it was a futile desire, a wish he couldn't have.

and just like that, you'd be gone. leaving him alone in the quiet of his empty apartment, with nothing but the memories of the night before.

touya had never considered himself a religious person, not with the life he'd led.

he'd cursed the teachings of the church, resented the weight of their doctrine, and scorned the idea of a benevolent god.

yet, there were times when he wondered if he should have more faith, if he should seek forgiveness and guidance from something beyond himself. it was at those times, when he was alone with his thoughts, that he questioned whether god was watching over him, waiting for him to repent and turn back to the light. that this was all a test, one that he couldnt help but fail.

but sitting in the empty, quiet apartment after you'd left, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was some truth to it all.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ greywrites #⊹ ࣪ ˖ cardinal sin #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #touya x reader #todoroki x reader

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