#refusing to admit that they have and will despise every LI because it's not their ship

[shaunashipman]

The journalists have been a problem since the screened but they’ve just gotten worse by sticking themselves into fandom discourse when they don’t need to be there at all. This is what one of them tweeted and it made me so angry:

https://x.com/kat__writes/status/1796683035514921368?s=46

https://x.com/kat__writes/status/1796683230629757217?s=46

because why are you speaking like this is an objective idea held by the whole fandom? countless fans loved the scene and loved bucktommy. If it didn’t resonate with some that doesn’t mean it’s objectively bad writing. I also cannot for the life of me understand how these scenes are being compared because in one, two of the guys are best friends not a couple and in the other, you have a canon couple and if a canon couple is talking to each other, obviously their flirting will be bold and outright and possibly sexual. The writers want us to know the couple is flirting. They don’t want us to dig deep for it in subtext. These are grown men in a relationship one of whom has been shown to very much enjoy sex and have a kinks already established. God forbid he flirt with his boyfriend and his boyfriend flirts with him beyond a little bat of the eyelashes.

yeah, that's not a journalist, that's a fan who happens to get paid to write about the show. and this is on her professional account? where she posts her actual interviews? babes no, that is literally why you have different personal and professional accounts. it doesn't need to be private/secret, but when you start putting your own biased opinions right next to what is supposed to be unbiased reporting, you lose credibility. if i can't trust you to separate your own feelings on a fucking twitter page then i can't trust you to do so in an interview.

the only people who have expressed an issue with the scene are ones who have found an issue with every aspect of tommy and bucktommy. not sorry, but i'm not listening to the opinions of people who have already decided they aren't going to like the scene before it happens, and can't even admit that.

[thatstormygeek]

When we do things fascists cannot, we differentiate ourselves, and we attack their great weakness, their dominance, a weakness they in their grotesque ignorance believe is their great strength, having failed to realize that their refusal to recognize the humanity of others leaves them unable to access their own.

The list of things that fascists cannot do is vast; every one of their malicious intentions reveals another fine thing they despise too much to value. We can value education. We can value science rather than fraud. We can value diversity rather than conformity. We can value correction rather than punishment. We can value justice rather than corruption. We can value critical thinking rather than propaganda. We can value truth rather than lies, and journalism rather than conspiracy. We can value peace rather than violence. We can value true friendship rather than domination and solidarity rather than brutality. We can value kindness rather than bullying.

I think it's important to note that the things that fascists cannot do are not things that they are incapable of; they are simply things that, the more a person did them, the more that person would cease being fascist and would start becoming something better. If we do these things ourselves, it creates a new atmosphere, which makes it more possible (if still unlikely) that others might leave fascism's grim picture and enter a new and better frame. They can leave fascism, you know. It's possible. A lot of people are going to be terribly harmed by this thing they voted for, and a lot of them did it out of ignorance, which is easier to escape than indifference; and even indifference is easier to escape than active malice. Because we are committed to seeing things as they are, we must to maintain boundaries away from fascists, for our own safety and that of others—not because we are interested in isolation and shunning, but because a space cannot be safe if it admits a person who means to bring harm. And because we are committed to seeing things as they are, we must admit that fascists are unlikely to change no matter how badly they are harmed, because they would then have to lose supremacy's unnatural advantages, and pay the costs of knowing what they have been and the consequences of what they have done. But they can change; in fact, people change all the time. Once upon a time, I began to leave ignorance and complacency, for example; maybe at some point you did, too. If any do start to move back toward our shared humanity, we should be ready to do another thing fascists cannot, which is to recognize positive progress and celebrate it. And we can show how it is done by doing it ourselves.

[chapfallenpoet]

Choose

I did not understand why it simply made sense that with some people, I can just — talk. I feel like I have known that person for years, but it has been but days, weeks; and for a great many others, who I have known for years, it numbs me that they must eventually drift apart from me.

It hurts me deeply, that I keep being told to choose myself, to work on myself, that no one in the world will ever fully understand myself or anyone else, and that everyone is alone. It hurts to hear it, and it hurts even more to be told only half of the truth.

It is only half of the truth because I know that I will do so much to understand someone, because that is an act of which I wish would befall upon myself. It bleeds me to know that I hold myself to such high expectations, because I would like the ones that I love to have high standards too, and that I would be said high standard. I would scrape the bottom of a barrel, reach for every morsel of subtlety, just to learn to love someone, to choose said one for the rest of my life.

I'm tired of pruning people from my chest, I am tired of being the only one to reciprocate another's initiative and have my own dismissed with insipidity. Does my want of you matter so little? Do I only matter when you think of me, and not when I think of you?

Why is it that every person I love must cut me with the words they let out of their mouths like an untamed stampede, why must they force me to choose between them and myself? I despise being made to choose when I know that my final decision will always be me, when I know that I must wittingly neglect the one whom I love so dearly. I detest that I am an option, like some pawn in a frivolous and cold-hearted game of chess, and that there is no "us" to choose. I abhor that you must make me question my worth and yours, forcing me to divide us by a scale I never wish to use.

Yes, I will focus on myself. Yes, I will choose an "us", too. Yes, I will throw myself at that damned mirage as many times as I can, with as much strength as I can muster, until the illusion breaks into reality — because who am I, if not for the people I loved?

I refuse to let my sanity waver at your insecurities. By grief, am I a coward, but you, an even greater coward than I am, for I admit it, and you mask that fear with a feeble, fragile indifference.

Confound it, will I love like a sailor.

Doggone it, will I continue to choose people.

Not over myself, never over myself, but I will expect their hearts to breathe alongside my own.

You asked me what on earth I talk to my dear freshman and junior about, and I told you a great many things, but I did not tell you this; we talk about many things, about everything; about life, about love, and about you. And I love talking to her, because she does not make me choose. I don't feel like I have to choose. I sit in a unique category in her mind; myself. I never have to hesitate to send a joke, or to ask to spend time with her, or to tell her matters of the heart. I do not fear neglect, I do not expect fickleness.

She cares openly, freely, kindly.

She does not make me cry.

You push me then pull me, come so close and tease me then neglect me, propose time to spend together and then leave me.

And now, you tell me that we should choose ourselves, despite you not being able to stand with even an inch of distance between our shoulders.

My expectations are not yours to lower, my love is not yours to tamper with.

Infants have died in the forbidden experiment where they were denied of human touch, love and affection. What difference do infants and grown women make? Are we not all children of this beautiful, unforgiving world? Would it not be better to be lonely with someone, than to be lonely in solitude? I will forever be a child to my grandfather's old cabinets, I will forever be childish next to the great architectures that have stood for centuries, I will forever be youthful to the discoveries that have been made within me by greater people that live on in books and grand tales of humanity.

I am human.

So damn it to hell, I'm going to live like one.

And if it will eventually come to bite me for loving one like you, then I promise, that when the day comes, I will choose me like you asked, without hesitation.

[icybreaths]

|| Bleach || Jewel Stone || Character Development ||

Notes about what guide Jewel's actions and the lens through which she perceives the world.

|| Desires ||

Freedom. Jewel wants to have total control over her life and full autonomy to do whatever she wants. She doesn't want to be tied down to anything.

To find an occupation she's happy with. Jewel isn't content with her path in life and seeks to change it, but feels stuck in her position as a lieutenant. She's too prideful to transfer divisions or quit, and flatly refuses the idea of parting with her zanpakuto should she leave the Gotei.

To have full control over her zanpakuto and to hone it to its full power. A running theme in Jewel's story is control, and she struggles to control her own weapon, Hyouhakyoku. It's locked in a permanent Shikai state due to her immense spiritual energy and inability to fully control it. Not only this, but her zanpakuto's spirit despises the fact that Jewel cannot control it and inflicts frostbite upon her body as punishment. The bite of her blade rules her body every waking moment. It aches, numbs her senses, and makes her look like a corpse under her uniform at its worst. It is the most distracting thing in her life.

Achieve all of her goals on her own. Personal satisfaction. It's a pride thing.

To be alone. Ideally, she wants to rely on only herself.

To survive.

To always have a challenge. Jewel would never want to be the strongest shinigami or the strongest being. She's always looking for opponents stronger than herself to face. She wants to find her own limits and surpass them, and never stop that cycle.

|| Fears ||

To feel caged in any way. Being stuck with her current job forever. Imprisonment. The inverse of the freedom she desires. Jewel fears having her autonomy robbed from her and being forced to look at herself without a sense of control. Feeling like a cornered animal with no options would bring out the worst in her, and engaging with that side of her without her consent is a state of being she would want to avoid at all costs.

Losing control over her zanpakuto and being devoured by it. Hyouhakyoku is among the most powerful ice zanpakuto in Soul Society, being capable of creating a large scale ice age at its full power. It's a difficult responsibility and power to handle, and Jewel struggles to hone it, as much she hates to admit it. There are already considerable cracks in the surface to her facade of control, most notably in her reiatsu and how her zanpakuto is locked in a permanent Shikai state. An effect of her lack of control shows through on her body in the form of frostbite. Most of the time it's hidden underneath her clothing, but it may be seen on her fingers or her face, and is always seen during combat. At her worst, the frostbite has eaten parts of her down to her bones and will take days to heal. Full loss of control would kill her, but it's not death she fears, it's the failure in not being good enough to control her weapon. She doesn't want her efforts to amount to nothing.

Lightning. More on this here.

Platonic and romantic commitment. Jewel has been let down by friends, partners, and family figures alike over the centuries, and she has done others the same way. She has found significant connections with others to be nearly pointless. People have, lied, died, and betrayed her in the past. She perceives herself to not be the best kind of friend to have, and given the issues she has with her zanpakuto on top of it all, she keeps an emotional wall between herself and others, even those who've managed to get close to her. The closest ones know that Jewel doesn't let them all the way into her heart. In one way or another, people will leave her, so she chooses not to care too much about them. To her it's an inevitability, so why bother? At least, that's what she tells herself. In truth, it's a mindset she struggles with at times because there's a part of her soul that craves connections with others. She views the want as a flaw.

|| Misbeliefs ||

She can only count on herself. Jewel believes achieving goals and building herself up are things only she can do. She refuses to ask for help or rely on others to help her. Whatever happens she will figure out a way to pull herself through.

Being in control will avoid the ultimate failure. Messing up is inevitable, but as long she can make the choice to keep trying, she will. Control is everything, particularly with her weapon. She knows she'll figure it out on her own. She just needs time.

Given her past, love is a lost cause. Dying friendships and dead romances. Family betrayals and disappointing leadership. It all flows like a cycle. Jewel has seen it all, and at this point she thinks she's supposed to be alone -- not an idea that came out of sadness but an inevitability she's supposed to accept. She keeps others at a distance and uses them in a transactional way. Loneliness is a temporary disturbance that will pass.

[thanklessindubai]

"If he had merely left, I would've had nothing. He wouldn't have needed to kill me, I would've perished. I would've remained in madness, hated and alone until I had the decency to end it all. He was the wicked wind that scattered the ashes in the ruins of my life. It was a life worth ruining; I admit that freely. But it was still my life.

"I carried on in misery, stalwart, standing fast at the post to which I was appointed. And it kept me alive, Mina. The coven kept me alive. If it weren't for Lestat's mercy, you would not have my hand to hold.

"For one hundred years, I cared for my coven and they clung to me. I gave them my strength and my wisdom." He shook his head, laughing at himself under his breath. It hardly seemed like wisdom now.

"And their need to be led carried me when I had no will to go on. But I became a pale shadow, pushing papers and enforcing curfew. I was a ghost for a century, still heartbroken. Because in my defeat, I'd fallen in love with Lestat."

You don't say.

"Without him, there was no light in my life. No meaning or desire. No understanding, nor concept of time. I trudged through our history like a key-turned toy. A music box that was winding down.

"But then I found him. My handsome criminal. Louis arrived in Paris and it seemed all the Great Laws broke to his touch. He was Lestat's fledgling -- of course, he was. And to our utter disbelief, he had been taught nothing of our world by his maker. He was made weak, ignorant, and defenseless in a world that would devour him.

"He traveled with a child vampire, Claudia, whom he'd helped to make. Together they'd killed their maker -- or so they thought -- and Claudia recorded her history, her mad crimes, in diaries unguarded. They left corpses in open ground for humans to find. And Claudia would find a mortal pet and tell her everything.

"But before we'd learned any of this, it was my chore to bring them into the fold. Claudia was thrilled to join, so much so that she swore herself to oaths she had no intention of keeping. Like Lestat, nothing was real or sacred to Claudia. She would lie to us in a heartbeat.

"But Louis refused us at every turn, traumatized by the tyranny of Lestat's love, and if I could not persuade him, I was obligated to destroy him.

"So I followed him. I gently fellowshipped. I turned our every conversation down the path of conversion. He wouldn't have it. Instead, he cast his spell on me. Stripped me bare with every wicked, knowing smile. Pinned me down with every penetrating stare.

"And the more he forced me to look into his eyes, the more the thought of destroying him became impossible. I hadn't the power to move against him. He had my heart in his hands and worked it like a bellow. And I felt myself split in two: one alive and in love and enslaved, the other a criminal, living in shame and hypocrisy.

"My coven began to demand Louis' head. It was my duty to them, and to the laws that were supposed to protect us. He was a danger to us, I knew that he was, and yet I gave him special treatment. For two years, he did as he pleased.

"He despised and mocked and lied to the coven. He kept me for pleasure, too frightened to give me more. Frightened that I would become his new Lestat. He used me, humiliated me, and made my weakness and betrayal plain to the coven. The light had returned to my life, so brightly did he shine that my world was burning again..."

Mina knew that when he told her he would tell her everything, there was a possibility that she would hear everything. Still, to hear him take it as far back as when he met Lestat was a bit of a surprise.

Mina knew the great laws, that was a story that she'd already told Armand when they first met and he was surprised she knew them, but she still let him continue.

She knew Children of Satan was a cult, but the way Armand still framed it was like in a way he almost missed it. "thier love' 'they kept me from suicide', that wasn't something you listed as something you completely hated.

But Armand had been treated so badly by everyone in his life.

"It doesn't sound very merciful to me," she still offered, still clutching his hand tightly. Sounded like fucking mindgames to her. Sounded on par with reviews of the books for what he was like

[pesterloglog]

Karkat Vantas, John Egbert

Act 5, page 2628

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

CG: ATTENTION WORTHLESS HUMAN.

CG: THIS IS YOUR GOD SPEAKING.

CG: IT IS A WRATHFUL GOD WHO DESPISES YOU MORE THAN YOU COULD HAVE POSSIBLY DARED TO FEAR.

CG: I HAVE WATCHED YOUR ENTIRE PATHETIC LIFE UNFOLD.

CG: I HAVE OBSERVED YOU WHILE YOU WOULD QUAKE AND TREMBLE IN PERSONAL PRAYERS OF SHAME.

CG: WHILE YOU PLEADED FORGIVENESS FOR BEING SUCH A WRETCHED DISGUSTING FAILURE ON EVERY CONCEIVABLE LEVEL.

CG: PROSTRATE BEFORE THE STUPID AND FALSE CLOWN GODS YOU HAVE SCRIBBLED ON THE WALLS OF YOUR BLOCK.

CG: BOGUS DEITIES WORSHIPED BY A PRIMITIVE "PARADISE" PLANET.

CG: BUT YOUR PRAYERS WILL NOT BE ANSWERED.

CG: THERE ARE NO MIRACLES IN STORE FOR YOU, HUMAN.

CG: ONLY MY HATE.

CG: IT IS A HATE SO PURE AND HOT IT WOULD CONSUME YOUR SAD UNDERDEVELOPED HUMAN THINK PAN TO EVEN CONTEMPLATE.

CG: IT IS A HATE THAT TO FATHOM MUST BE PUT INTO SONG.

CG: SHRIEKED BY THE TEN THOUSAND ROWDY SHOUT SPHINCTERS PEPPERING THE GRUESOME UNDERBELLY OF THE MOST TRUCULENT GOD THE FURTHEST RING CAN MUSTER.

CG: IT IS A HATE THAT MADE YOU AND WILL SURELY DESTROY YOU.

CG: MY HATE IS THE LIFEBLOOD THAT PULSES THROUGH THE VEINS OF YOUR UNIVERSE.

CG: IT IS MY GIFT TO YOU.

CG: YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THAT.

CG: YOU UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHIT.

EB: hi karkat!

CG: WHAT

CG: HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME.

EB: oh man.

EB: this is it, isn't it?

EB: i've been looking forward to this!

CG: WHAT IS IT.

CG: ME HATING YOU IS WHAT'S IT.

CG: IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN, YEAH, BINGO.

EB: no, i mean this is the first conversation between us, from your perspective.

EB: right?

CG: YEAH.

CG: ARE YOU SUGGESTING WE'VE SPOKEN BEFORE.

EB: yeah, lots of times!

EB: actually...

EB: i should introduce myself properly.

EB: hi karkat, i am john!

CG: JOHN, WHY WOULD I GIVE A PUNGENT WHIPPING LUMPSQUIRT WHAT YOUR NAME IS.

EB: because we are buddies!

CG: I ADMIT I AM NEW TO HUMAN SOCIAL CONSTRUCTS

CG: BUT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE OUR RELATIONSHIP CAN OR WILL EVER BE DESCRIBED AS "EARTH HUMAN BUDDIES".

EB: yup, we totally are.

EB: we just became earth human buddies in a kind of weird way.

EB: you decide to keep talking to me backwards through my adventure.

EB: and then when you are done with that you come back and talk to me more recently on the timeline for a while.

EB: you talk to my friends a whole bunch too.

EB: you and your alternian troll buddies help me and my earth human buddies hatch a plan!

EB: which we are busy putting into motion right now, as you can see.

CG: THESE ARE LIES.

CG: I KNOW WHEN I AM BEING TROLLED, WHO DO YOU EVEN THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO HERE.

CG: I AM YOUR GOD, REMEMBER.

EB: yeah yeah, i know.

CG: WHY WOULD I TROLL YOU BACKWARDS? THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE.

CG: AND WHY WOULD I HELP YOU AND YOUR IDIOT FRIENDS?

CG: I WOULD JUST BE HELPING YOU BLUNDER DOWN THE PATH THAT ENDS WITH YOU OPENING THE RIFT LIKE A BUNCH OF MORONS.

EB: you mean the scratch?

CG: WHATEVER.

EB: yes! that is the plan.

EB: you yourself said it was the only hope now.

CG: RIDICULOUS.

CG: I DIDN'T WRIGGLE OUT OF A PUDDLE OF SLIME YESTERDAY.

CG: THAT WAS SEVERAL WEEKS AGO, OK?

EB: heheheh.

CG: I DO NOT THINK YOU APPRECIATE THE GRAVITY OF MY ANTIPATHY, JOHN HUMAN.

EB: egbert.

CG: OK, HUMAN EGBERT.

CG: I FUCKING LOATHE YOU, AND I HAVE TUNED INTO YOUR CHANNEL MOMENTS BEFORE THE ERADICATION OF YOUR TIMELINE AND THAT SMUG LOOK ON YOUR FACE, WITH JUST ENOUGH TIME FOR ME TO BASICALLY COMPLETELY FUCKING DESTROY YOU WITH HOSTILE RHETORIC.

CG: THERE IS NO CHANCE I WILL EVER HELP YOU.

CG: YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I HATE YOU OR WHY I HATE YOU.

CG: I WASN'T JOKING WHEN I SAID I WAS YOUR GOD, LIKE THAT WASN'T JUST A LOT OF BRAVADO AND USELESS PISSING AROUND.

CG: I AM LITERALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR EXISTENCE.

CG: WE BEAT THE GAME YOU ARE PLAYING AND CREATED YOUR UNIVERSE.

CG: WE WERE GOING TO ENTER YOUR UNIVERSE AND RULE OVER IT.

CG: LIKE TYRANTS.

CG: IT WAS TO BE OUR PLAYTHING, JOHN.

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW SWEET IT WAS GOING TO BE.

CG: BUT THEN WE COULDN'T CLAIM OUR PRIZE BECAUSE OF THAT MONSTROSITY YOU SPRUNG ON US.

EB: man...

EB: i knoooow.

EB: none of this is news to me, karkat!

EB: but to be quite honest, it doesn't sound like your intentions were all that great.

EB: wanting to be tyrants and all.

EB: maybe you got what you deserved, you stutid fuckass!

CG: STUTID?

CG: WOW, YOUR SPECIES REALLY IS BRAINDEAD.

EB: eh, it's an in-joke, never mind.

EB: anyway, hey!

EB: i thought this was supposed to be the conversation where you do all that AMAAAAAZING TROLLING!

EB: come on bro, flame me!

EB: i have been really excited about this.

CG: YOU ACTUALLY WANT ME TO TROLL YOU?

CG: I MEAN

CG: DON'T WORRY, I CAN AND I WILL, AND IT WILL BE A GODDAMN BLOODBATH WHEN I GET STARTED.

CG: IT'S JUST KIND OF WEIRD YOU'RE EXCITED ABOUT IT, IS THAT NORMAL FOR YOUR RACE?

EB: um...

EB: i don't know, probably not.

EB: i just think it's kind of funny when you do it.

CG: THAT'S REALLY CONDESCENDING AND IT'S HARD TO CONVEY HOW MUCH MORE I JUST GOT PISSED OFF THAN I ALREADY WAS.

CG: BUT MAYBE IT MAKES SENSE ACTUALLY

CG: THAT YOU WELCOME MY ACRIMONY SO READILY

CG: ON ACCOUNT OF PROBABLY SOME WEIRD GLAND HUMANS HAVE, LIKE A PUNISHMENT THROBBER OR SOME SILLY SOUNDING THING LIKE THAT.

CG: IT MIGHT MEAN THAT I'M RIGHT ABOUT YOU.

EB: right about what?

CG: I MEAN THAT IT SEEMS LIKE WE ARE CONNECTED IN SOME WAY, DON'T YOU THINK JOHN.

CG: SORT OF COSMICALLY.

CG: LIKE OUR HATE FOR EACH OTHER IS SO STRONG IT MUST HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN THE STARS.

CG: YOU KNOW, THE ONES I FUCKING MADE FOR YOU.

EB: ha ha, i don't hate you!

CG: HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY CLAIM TO HAVE TALKED TO ME A LOT ALREADY AND NOT HATE ME, SEE IT DOESN'T ADD UP.

EB: wait...

EB: are you saying that we are kisme-whatevers?

CG: WHAT, NO.

CG: WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, THAT WOULD BE SUCH A BRAZEN SOLICITATION.

CG: IT'S INSULTING.

CG: I MEAN

CG: OK I'M NOT SAYING I'M RULING OUT THE IDEA OR ANYTHING.

CG: LIKE IF LATER OVER TIME YOU STARTED REALLY HATING ME MORE

CG: LIKE REALLY GOT TO KNOW ME AND FOUND OUT ABOUT HOW MUCH THERE WAS TO HATE

EB: er...

CG: BUT... IN THE PAST I GUESS? I'M JUST SAYING WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD HAPPEN.

CG: OR HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.

EB: uh.

CG: FUCK WHAT AM I BABBLING ABOUT.

CG: THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS, WE JUST MET FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

CG: AND IT'S NOT LIKE WE'RE EVER GOING TO MEET IN PERSON, SO IT'S ALL A MOOT POINT.

CG: SO FORGET I SAID ANYTHING.

CG: GOD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.

EB: well...

EB: i just didn't really have any idea that you had any sort of feelings like that, so i am kind of caught off guard.

CG: WHAT FEELINGS, THERE ARE NO FEELINGS, END OF DISCUSSION.

EB: hey, i don't have a problem with your weird sort of alien hate-love thing!

EB: it is just that, uh...

CG: WHAT

EB: i am not a homosexual.

CG: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

EB: it is like, when a boy likes another boy.

EB: or i guess hates, in this case.

CG: HUMANS HAVE A WORD FOR THAT?

EB: yes.

CG: HOW IS THAT EVEN A THING?

EB: shrug. it just is.

CG: HUMAN ROMANCE SURE IS WEIRD.

EB: i am just as confused by your troll shenanigans.

EB: so many shenanigans!

EB: anyway, i kind of got the impression that you and terezi were a thing.

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN A THING.

EB: like, i dunno.

EB: going on weird fight dates and beating the crap out of each other, and being in hate-love or love-hate.

EB: isn't that how it works?

CG: YOU ARE SUCH AN IGNORAMUS I COULD SHIT MILES OF RAGE SNAKE TO CHOKE YOU TO DEATH.

EB: ew.

CG: WHO HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING TO, WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT THAT.

EB: um, i talked to you...

EB: and her...

EB: and some others. i don't know! like i said it's just a sense i got.

EB: sorry!

CG: OK FIRST OF ALL, IF THERE WERE A "THING" WITH HER, AND THAT'S A HUGE IF

CG: IT WOULD BE A TOTALLY DIFFERENT QUADRANT THAN WHAT WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT.

EB: oh god, the quadrants...

CG: SECOND, WHETHER SHE AND I HAVE A THING OR DON'T HAVE A THING, OR TOOK A ROMANTIC HOT AIR BALLOON RIDE SUSPENDED IN A GODDAMN FILIAL PAIL TOGETHER

CG: IT'S DEFINITELY NONE OF YOUR FUCKING EARTH BUSINESS, EGBERT HUMAN JOHN.

CG: GOT IT????????

EB: ok, sheesh!

EB: karkat, i am going to be honest...

EB: this first conversation is not going how i thought it would at all!

EB: it is really kind of...

EB: awkward.

CG: YEAH

CG: WOW, IT IS

EB: yeah...

CG: HUH.

EB: well...

EB: um...

CG: OK, LOOK.

CG: LET'S JUST AGREE TO NEVER BRING IT UP AGAIN.

CG: THE STUFF I WAS BABBLING ABOUT EARLIER.

EB: yeah, well we never really talked about it in the past, so i guess we do agree to that.

CG: BUT IF I TALK TO YOU AGAIN

CG: IN YOUR FUTURE, LIMITED THOUGH IT IS

CG: YOU'LL REMEMBER MY EMBARRASSING SHIT

CG: SO I GUESS

CG: I'LL HAVE TO TROLL YOU BACKWARDS?

EB: told you bro!!!!!!!

EB: hahahaha.

CG: YOU REALLY ARE A SMUG NOOK WHIFFER, JOHN EGBERT.

CG: I THINK WE NEED TO GET BACK ON POINT HERE.

CG: WHICH IS ADDRESSING THE MATTER OF WHAT INCOMPREHENSIBLY PUTRID GARBAGE YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS ARE AND HOW MUCH I HATE YOU.

EB: you mean platonic hate?

CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP, WE AREN'T TALKING ABOUT THAT, REMEMBER.

EB: oh yeah.

CG: SO YOU WANTED TO GET TROLLED, WELL YOU GOT IT.

CG: PREPARE TO GET YOUR PUNY HUMAN BULGE FLAMED INTO NUCLEAR HATEBLIVION.

CG: WELCOME TO THE TROLLOCAUST. THE PAINSTAKING GENOCIDE OF YOUR FRAGILE SELF ESTEEM WILL BE MY SWAN SONG.

EB: oh boy, this sounds great.

EB: but...

EB: we're out of time!

EB: i have to go put this plan into motion.

CG: OH I SEE, TAKING THE COWARD'S WAY OUT.

CG: SCAMPERING OFF TO GET ANNIHILATED BY A DEADLY RIFT, HOW CONVENIENT.

CG: WELL FINE, SAYONARA YOU WORTHLESS CROTCHSTAINED BARFPUPPET.

CG: I WILL BID YOU ONE FIRST AND FINAL FUCK YOU.

CG: FUCK YOU, JOHN EGBERT.

CG: FUCK YOU AND FUCK THE JOKE BOOK YOU RODE IN ON.

CG: FUCK.

CG: FUCKING.

CG: YOU.

EB: :D

EB: see you soon!

CG: WAIT

CG: WHAT

ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG]

[mountainsabandonedshoes]

some of my exs and their probably rather specific red flags

damo

tried to kiss me while still had a gf

tried to get his gf who is another one of my exs siblings in a poly relationship with me

doesn't seem to understand what consent is

fell in "love" at first sight (im aromantic so idrk what that was)

jake

owns swords

called watching porn cheating

neckbeard

self proclaimed sex god

told me that when we meet in person I'd have to go on birth control because he doesn't like the feeling of condoms

deleted a minecraft world we spent days on and refused to call me for 2 days because I didn't wanna build something in the world????

was 3 years older than (14 and 17, I am actively 17 and I wouldn't date someone who was 14)

supposedly killed multiple people but is just hasn't left his edgy 13 year old phase

is porbably faking DID

ty

ignored me for 3 weeks during in every month we were together

was really touchy and like how my sweat smelled

doesn't understand boundaries

his room smells like cum and sweat

is now a registered sex offender because of lumi

lumi

lied about her age

faked tics and blamed it on her being autistic

constantly referred to herself as mommy

doesn't seem to know what deodorant is

likes to lie and get innocent men in big legal trouble

oscar

his whole personality was weed

would much rather get high than talk to me

pretty sure he sees me as a fetish

almost every time he messages me he tries to fuck

furry (I like furries but in his case his whole thing is giant hyena cock and I despise it)

tried to get me to do an online marriage certificate thing

theo

lied about her age

was cheating on like 4 people n calling it a poly relationship

ghosted me for like a year just to come back full of lies

alex

got mad at me and purposefully misgendered me

tbh I barely remember being with him

porter

drug addict

mild alcoholic

tried to give me the hoodie they attempted to unalive themselves in

did cocaine at work and treated it like it was so cool

casually admitted to seeing a corpse at a drug house like it was nothing

constantly sexual

got mad at me for holding a friend's hand

pretty much pressured me into the relationship (in the end it was fun to some extent but like yeahhh)

caleb

cowboy

supposedly killed someone but that was probably edgy bullshit

[sukirichi]

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna 

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

[dreaminginvelaris]

A Response to a Feyre Anti

I made a post recently explaining the dread of having to watch Feyre be abused by her sisters and father, in the Tv adaption. And a Feyre anti made a response, to something that should not be criticized at all considering what I said was just the truth? Feyre was abused. Not only that but they went on and completely twisted the narrative to fit their own ideas and in the process made Feyre out to be cruel and Nesta a saint. complete bull.

I will not be tagging the anti bc they have me blocked (shocker), but also I do not want anyone to go after them, if you come across the post, I don't want it to be through me. it's as much respect I can give to them.

I usually do not respond to those who have something to say with a post of mine or are blatantly talking about me on their blog, unless they're just spreading absolute lies about me or what i "said", it's usually a waste of time to do so. but this post attacked Feyre with outrageous lies and a complete backward interpretation of what actually happened in acotar, so as respectful as I can be, I will be analyzing the anti-response and what truly happened in acotar.

"the audience will only see two sisters fighting-not abuse" "it’s not Nesta you need to worry about. It’s audiences calling Feyre a big dumbass and a bitch" -from anti

if the audience has basic human compassion and empathy for humans IRL or fictional, they will see what's obvious from the start. Feyres abuse. how is it going to look, when they see Feyre walking through the woods, shaking from the cold, starving from hunger, and struggling to find food for her family? only to later see Nesta's treatment of Feyre?"

in the anti's post, they said Feyre was just as "heinous" to Nesta.

is Feyre the one calling Nesta a pig? a smelly pig? ordering her to take her clothes off?

no, it's not, it's dear Nesta. the text goes as "I took my time, swallowing the words I wanted to bark at her" oh yes... how cruel of Feyre. how heinous of Feyre to...stay quiet... at the verbal abuse.

in the same image we see Feyre ask Nesta to do something (kindly might I add) and then inquire why she didn't chop wood like she needs to.

what does Nesta do? acts like a brat and insults Feyre...once again.

considering I'm going off by the story and not the actual screenplay, and assuming they stay true to the story; will the audience not be disgusted by Nesta's behavior? I mean they just saw Feyre struggle to find food and they expect Feyre to go home to a family happy and appreciative of Feyre but instead, they get this familial abuse.

the anti said Feyre basically tells Nesta this:

"If you keep bitching at everyone like this no one will want to be around you or you can’t marry this guy because you’re a waste of space to me"

but what do we see?

"Believe me... the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

the word worthy, did that not catch your eye? Feyre said Nesta will have to marry someone worthy, someone, who will treat Nesta kindly and give her the life Feyre thinks her sisters deserve. bc Feyre does think that IDK why anti feyres think Feyre despised Nesta so much, Feyre loved her sisters.

what the anti fails to realize here is that Nesta marrying Tomas would have been actually pretty great for Feyre. in the sense that, Feyre would no longer carry the burden of her sister. Feyre would not have to worry about feeding one more mouth. or worrying about Nesta's constant stealing of Feyre's money. Feyre does not think Nesta is a "waste of space" to her, if she did, it would have been easy for Feyre to discard Nesta, and allow her to marry Tomas. the anti has that twisted.

but that is not even the worst part of the scene. did you see the shameless slut-shaming that came out of Nesta's mouth? how will the audience take to that? do you think most of the younger generation will take it lightly to see a sister slut-shame a sister? a woman putting down another woman? in this social climate? where the feminism movement is alive and flourishing. will they be okay with it? will they still blame Feyre and be mad at her the way the anti says they will be? I hope not otherwise I'm losing faith in humanity.

Lovely words Nesta spews at Feyre. I admit Feyre should have told her then and there that Tomas is abusive. but let's think: Feyre is 19 years old, the youngest, has never had any raising by a parental figure, has been neglected by her whole family, where would Feyre learn to calmly talk to an overgrown brat like Nesta? Feyre telling Nesta who Tomas truly is the duty of a parent, not a sister. I will not condemn Feyre for not knowing that was the perfect time to tell Nesta who Tomas is. especially when Feyre is being tormented and verbally/emotionally abused, its kinda hard to think about something else while you're being told all these horrible words. to us its easy to see where Feyre went wrong but unless you're in the exact position Feyre was in. no one has any room to talk. and even then, every person is different in situations like these.

this part was me analyzing the interactions between Feyre and Nesta since anti had reasons to believe Feyre was just as bad to Nesta and that the audience would see that and hate Feyre. I am now going to respond to the second part of the Feyre Anti's response.

"How will an audience of non-fans react to her not reaching out to her family to tell them she was okay after the reconciliation between her and Nesta? Or not inviting them to the wedding?"- from anti

moving onto acomaf now.

Idk maybe the audience will see Feyre, a depressed, lonely, individual in an abusive relationship while being manipulated by other individuals she called friends, and understand and empathize with her. all throughout the beginning and half of acomaf, Feyre is in critical depression. she wholeheartedly believes she should not be alive. that she is not worthy. she doesn't eat, all she does is sleep, self-care is not important to her or others so why would letting a family know she's okay, a family who BARELY ever cared about her, be a priority? it doesn't seem like Nesta or elain or her father was really fazed by Feyre's lack of communication. her father left on a trip, elain got engaged and Nesta, well we didn't see a tearful welcoming to Feyre on Nesta's part did we?

anti, where is the outcry of her "family" not even really caring if Feyre was safe or not, of what happened to her? it's not like they thought she had died, otherwise, where was the mourning or funeral? no, they just didn't care.

see this is where I know when anti is just full of bullshit. why, WHY, would Feyre invite her family to wedding full of fae? the creatures elain and Nesta fear and hate? for all the talk many anti's spew about Feyre being inconsiderate to Nesta, to her family, you would think Feyre maybe just knows a fae wedding would be the last thing they would want? even then, does Feyre owe them an invitation to her wedding? does she owe them an update on her life? nope. Feyre owed them nothing.

"How about her shit-talking Nesta to a bunch of strangers then having the audacity to ask her to get involved in a war. Oh! This is after she comes into her house and insults their hospitality." - from anti

I hardly think Feyre confiding in individuals who she learned to care about and laying out all the trauma Feyre endured with her family is "shit-talking" but for argument's sake, let's say it is. I still don't see what's wrong? after years of pent-up anger and hurt, would you not let go of everything you withheld inside and explain what was done to you? how you felt? Feyre telling the IC her life story, which contains Nesta's abuse and her family's neglect, was a form of therapy for Feyre. I never read a line where Feyre calls Nesta a "cold-hearted bitch" or called elain "a lazy ditz" she just said the truth. no added embellishments. Cassian was the one who shit-talked Nesta during the dinner scene, never Feyre.

I still don't understand why antis are so against Feyre asking her sisters for help? like the war didn't involve them? they're humans, and you know what the war was about? Hybern wanting to take control of the human lands like they once did and turn them into slaves. those humans included Nesta and elain.

"They could have left the continent" correct, except elain was engaged and refused to leave Grayson. which meant Nesta refused to leave elain. but even so, isn't it the duty of humans to band together and work to overthrow a race of people who want to torture and keep them as slaves? the queens certainly weren't doing their jobs. Feyre asked to use "their" house to meet the queens bc where else would they do it? the queens trust the fae less than Nesta or elain did. but even so, Feyre asking to use their house was a courtesy, that house is rightfully Feyre's. she is the one who sacrificed herself to leave with Tamlin. she did it bravely, courageously, and they got that house thanks to her. they owed Feyre everything. and the only one who acknowledged that was Elain.

that war involved elain and Nesta whether they or Feyre or the anti's liked it or not. not even considering that Nesta and elain are Feyre Archerons sisters, yeah, their family name alone puts a target on their back.

How did Feyre or the court insult Elain's and Nesta's hospitality? You mean when Feyre realized human food differed from fae food? something she did not know about bc she's barely been turned to fae and only had eaten fae dishes? Feyre's grimace towards the human food was an involuntary reaction to someone who is still learning their new body. or was it when Cassian called out Nesta for her cold treatment towards Feyre? if that's the case then fuck decency, I would call out a fake bitch in my presence from minute one. you cant call what Nesta did "hospitality" when all she did was insult Feyre when she didn't even care that Feyre had died, or lost her love bc of abuse, or that her body was changed against her will.

hospitality: the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

did y'all read something different bc this for sure was nothing Nesta gave to her guests?

----

the rest of the anti post moves towards Rhysand and his actions UTM which I won't go into because I'm mainly just addressing the false interpretations this anti had to say about Feyre and her family.

I'm not sure how to sign off now lol, but I guess just that I hope this was enough to show how this anti's arguments were completely ludicrous and have absolutely no compassion for Feyre, and instead all the compassion for Feyre's abusers. This anti had a real spin on what the actual story was, and I hope the evidence I provided was enough to show that. Anyways yeah my brain is fried, and I'm done arguing with Feyre anti's for a while now, I need to go praise my queen Feyre so I can receive some semblance of peace.

anyways, stan Feyre for clear skin xx

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 3 - Loki x Reader

Summary: You find shelter in the freezing lands of Jotunheim, and surprisingly some new allies. But Loki is already coming after you...

Warnings: Angst

Words: ~1500

A/N: Sorry, this one is a little short.

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist:  @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800​ @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog​

Only the anchestors keeping watch over you would know just how long you had been resting until your body was eventually able to move again.

As you looked around, you found several pairs of glowing red eyes observing every one of your moves, clashing with the otherwise darkness around you.

You bolted in an upright position, chest waving heavily as your breath was forming a cold mist. Much to your surprise, you were covered in warm furs.

“Worry not” one of them spoke, their body almost inseparable from the icy cave you apparently resided in. “We are a warrior tribe, not warmongers. What do we gain from killing a weak Asgardian noblewoman and their child?”

“Where is he?!” you choked on your own sob, only able to calm down when yet another giant handed the small bundle into your arms. 

They seemed to have cared for him while you were unable to, having fed and cleaned the small boy who was still impossible to distinguish from those powerful giants.

“What is his name?” A female of them seeked to know.

You stopped in your tracks at her question. Everything happened so fast, there was no time to think about it until now.

“His...his name is...L-Liam*. Liam Lokison.” The unintended alliteration made you smile. Yes, this was a formidable name for such a little fighter.

“Loki, you say?” A row, deep voice drang to your ears, huffing at hearing the name of your husband.

It is him again - Laufey.

Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude for his benevolent hospitality, but concluded it would be better to not interrupt.

“Loki, you say?” he repeated the name, tone laced with venom pumping through his heart. “That pathetic excuse of a Jotunn?”

What in hel did he just say?!

“No wonder that crossbreed of yours is so pathetically tiny.” Laufey would now eye his grandson with great fascination, even though adverse. “A disgrace, just like his father.”

“Wha- what in the realms are you...talking about?”

You took in a sharp breath,pulling the child deeper into your arms and away from his wary eyes.

The king could only laugh at your attempts, finding this farce absolutely amusing.

“Hilarious”, he scoffed, “I take from your reaction that Odin is still the old, pathological liar.”

The Allfather had expected you to die in this environment before you’d ever find out the truth, and even if not - Odin thought Laufey to be wildly ashamed of his son, and he would never admit that this freak was his child.

And that was where he was wrong.

“He still didn’t tell any of you?” The Jötunn thought back to that day of indescribable loss. First and foremost the war with Asgard and them taking away his power, together with the Cascet of Ancient Winters - and then...

“The man you call the God of Mischief was born on Jotunheim, as Laufeyson” he declared, and the following words made your heart clench dreadfully. “For whyever I deserved such misfortune, my firstborn came into this world as a failure.”

“Our world is harsh and unforgiving” Laufey continued and apparently, none of the folk seemed surprised. “It is an act of mercy to erase the weakest of our kind, since they wouldn’t survive either way.”

“Lies” you hissed - but the proof was right there, in your arms. “You are lying!”

However, deep inside, you already knew that his words were true.

Why?

Not minding the surrounding giants, you began crying from all the weight on your heart - mourning over the fate of your lover.

From his very first day, Loki Laufeyson was doomed. His only birthright was failure, exclusion and resentment, with death’s grip constantly at his throat.

“Then-” Connecting the dots, fear overcame your system. “Why did you help me?”

“Too much blood of Asgardians and Jotunns had been shed.”

Now that you thought of it, they had saved you - cared for Liam, even. Neither had they left you to die, nor tried to harm you or the child in any way.

Odin was really the greatest liar in all of history - for there were no monsters in Jotunnheim. Only a different race of people.

“I have stained my own hands in countless battles against your kind. But we are in dire need of peace, Y/N of Asgard. And your child could be the key.”

Anger began boiling inside of you, thoughts still revolving around how Loki had been lied to for all those years - and for what? Diplomacy? Using him like a tool, to control the Jötunn?

“Loki is Asgardian just as much as you are.” Somehow, the king almost sounded pained at the revelation. “He is unaware of his heritage, taught to despise us from childhood on. There is no way he would connect our two cultures with how much hatred he bears in his heart.”

At first, you felt close to passing out once again - the emotional exhaustion being way worse than what your body could take.

Those past two days were just too much for you: Liam’s birth, his genes, being cast out by your own people - and now, knowing that Loki had been lied to and used, even might be in danger at the hands of his own father?!

“So, you want me to...raise him here?” The thought alone made your insides churn, thinking back to your homeland. “I think I have to decline that generous offer.”

“No, not like that.” Laufey slowly approached both of you, wary to not touch your skin in any way. He signalized the want to touch his grandson, and you allowed it.

Of course, in a primal tribe like that, showing weakness was unforgiveable - especially if you were the king.

Yet you couldn’t really describe why, but somehow you knew that Laufey wasn’t as heartless as it appeared to be. Maybe, back then, he really thought his decision to be best - but now?

Everything you could decipher in his orbs as he touched Loki’s child was remorse, yearning and guilt. The loss of his firstborn was still present in his heart, aware that even though alive, they had grown apart from each other beyond repair.

“You need sunlight and warmth to survive.” Homesickness could also kill you, you knew that much. “We only ask of you for visits during his upbringing, so he can learn our ways and traditions. See both sides of the coin.”

A bridge between worlds, huh?

On the one hand, it was a huge responsibility you would burden on your child - yet you knew that at least learning about his heritage was his birthright.

Never you would allow yourself to dwell on comfortable lies like Odin, just because you didn’t want to be condemned for the past!

You would save Loki, as well as ensure this wonderful child’s future!

“Laufey, my king and inlaw, so it shall be. This child is now part of your tribe, as much as it is Asgardian.”

_____

[Several weeks later]

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laufey looked down on the Asgardian prince, standing in front of the gates of the Jotunn village.

“I demand on seeing my wife, you dull creatures!” Loki materialized a dagger, threatening to throw it right into the Jötunn’s eye. “Whatever you’ve done to her, I will repay a thousand times!”

Unimpressed, Laufey spoke “I see Odin has taught you his manners. Violent, hotheaded and selfish. No wonder she did not stay with you.”

“I ask you this one last time: Where. Is. Y/N?!”

Without any second thought, the God of Mischief had left in secret, facing the giants all alone without help of his brother or soldiers.

Because your husband was devastated beyond relief.

Without you at his side, the half-god had completely lost his way. All this time since he thought you dead, nothing could save Loki from his own mind.

For weeks, he wouldn’t leave his chambers, sitting in the dark for hour after hour without nourishing his body in the slightest.

He was haunted by how your belongings reminded him of those blissful days of your marriage. Your scent was still present on those now empty bedsheets, fogging his mind and keeping him from much-needed sleep.

The only matter he busied himself with aside from screaming and crying until his throat went sore, were the thoughts of what could be:

Knowing himself responsible for your imminent demise was eating him alive - even if that child wasn’t his, if only he didn’t rush things and would’ve let some time pass, to become clear-headed again as he was now.

Would Loki be able to forgive you and live on, overcome this hardships like so many before?

Most certainly! Because he needed you at his side, more than anything else.

Loki Odinson couldn’t live without the light of his life.

And if there was even the slightest chance of you still being alive, he would claim what was his and start anew.

“Loki, your eyes are wide open, and yet you don’t seem to see the full picture.”

When Laufey refused to descend to the entrance, Loki would immediately teleport himself towards the giant, blade aiming at his throat. “You will answer to your crimes, monster!”

The king was able to repel the attack by grabbing the god’s wrist - yet instead of the incoming pain Loki was expecting, merely his clothing froze into crumbles...

...and his limb turned in a shade of dark blue.

“You’ve grown strong, my son.”

_______

*Liam is a irish name, meaning “strong-willed warrior” or “protector”.

[a-cure-for-writers-block]

#100 (more) Angst/Argument Prompts

This has been highly requested recently and I had a bit of time whilst I was on holiday, so here we are! 100 more angst/argument prompts~ I’m sorry if it’s a little repetitive of the last one, I hope I didn’t recycle them- anyways, enjoy!

“Don’t touch me, you lost that privilege when you let him into our bed.”

“You just keep acting like everything’s fine! It’s not fine!”

“I hate you, I hate everything you stand for, every fibre of your being.”

“I don’t have the energy to yell at you, you’re not worth it anyway.”

“Show up here again and you won’t live to see the end of it.”

“You killed her! She was the only person I ever loved and you killed her!”

“There’s not a single reason I can think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I’m her everything.”

“You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?”

“I know you hate me, but you should hear yourself. You sound just like him, you sound just like your father.”

“Nothing you do will fix things, no amount of money will turn back time.”

“I wish you’d just leave me alone, I wish I’d never met you.”

“You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that.”

“I wouldn’t hate myself as much as I do now if it weren’t for you.”

“Thank you for ruining my life, I know exactly the kind of person I don’t want to become now.”

“Don’t look at me like you’re sorry. You’re not sorry.”

“You’ll never love me like you loved her. I know that now.”

“Not now, not ever. You’ll never be the person I love.”

“I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to think I knew you.”

“Yell at me, scream until your throat hurts, put a damn bullet in my chest, but you will not touch him.”

“I would rather die than be the person who climbs into bed with you at the end of the night.”

“You lied! You lied again and I fell for it!”

“Everytime you open your mouth I want to push you over the edge of a cliff and I mean that with all my heart.”

“Don’t pretend there’s more than years of pure hatred here.”

“We were never in love, we were simply caught up in a nightmare that felt like a dream.”

“You’ll never forgive me, I know that, but please just pretend you love me. Just until the kids are old enough.”

“Shoot me, I dare you, it’ll make you feel better.”

“And if I die, I swear, I’ll crawl out of my grave just to ruin your life.”

“I promised you a lifetime of misery, do you really think I’m done just yet?”

“You’ll end up dead if you keep that up and it won’t even be at my hands.”

“Hit me, hit me and see what happens to you.”

“Let’s just say that if I saw you bleeding out on my kitchen floor, I’d act like I hadn’t seen you.”

“It wasn’t an accident! It wasn’t and you know it!”

“It was assault, it was you.”

“There’s no one I can hire, no one I can call that will give you a torturous enough death.”

“You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!”

“Anything- anything- but this!”

“There’s nothing I can say to get you to fix what you did, there’s nothing I can do to understand why you did it.”

“You should’ve just killed me, I could’ve just been a nameless body in an abandoned cemetery. You could’ve just set me free.”

“He’s the only person left! He’s the only thing I’ve got, the last good thing in my life!”

“You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!”

“She was nothing to you, was she? Then prove it.”

“Don’t even look at me, everything about you is everything I tried so hard not to be.”

“You’re not someone I’ve ever understood, but I never thought I’d hate you as much as I do at this moment.”

“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself, I want nothing more than to ruin your life.”

“Jump, I dare you, but will that really make you happy?”

“You sound just like the person I used to love, but you’re not him anymore, are you.”

“I asked for your help, I begged you for it, now do you understand?”

“Don’t romanticise death if you won’t follow through.”

“Hate is a pitiful emotion, but then again, you are a pitiful person.”

“What is stronger than love? Nothing? Then you will simply not win.”

“You could’ve defeated me, broken me, left me as a pile of flesh. What stopped you?”

“I never have been someone to take the moral high ground, blood and broken bones is much simpler, don’t you think?”

“She wasn’t your person to ruin.”

“I had it under control! I had a plan!”

“She’ll bleed out before nightfall and you think we should stay? Are you stupid?”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t remember your face when he wakes up, your eyes always were horribly distinctive.”

“You shouldn’t have come, I don’t want you here.”

“He doesn’t own me! He can’t keep controlling me anymore!”

“I refuse to keep being a pawn in your game, this has to end.”

“If I loved you, would I really have kept you around? Love is a weakness, I don’t have weaknesses.”

“I must admit, it would’ve been easier to get rid of you if you weren’t so beautiful.”

“Nothing will change if you stay here with me! Nothing will ever change!”

“It should’ve been an easy decision to make, but you’ve never made things easy, have you.”

“The worst part was that I saw it coming, I knew you’d hurt me, hurt us, but I still kept you around.”

“I can keep this up for longer than you can stick around for. Cut my hair, change my name, you’ll never find me.”

“What did you want in the beginning? What did you think would happen?”

“You’re not him! You’re not him and that’s the problem!”

“Hire a necromancer so I can tell her how much I hate her guts for leaving me like this.”

“There’s nothing you can do, this is it. This is how it goes.”

“You never let me go, that’s why you’re miserable.”

“I’m not the person at fault, I never was. It’s you, it was always you!”

“Just pretend we’re okay, just for tonight, just for show. I’ll be gone by sunrise.”

“So none of it was real? You didn’t mean any of it?”

“You’re the last person I want to talk to right now. We can’t just put things aside because I’m having a bad night.”

“People talk- people will always talk- and you never listened.”

“The last thing I want is for you to think I’m grateful for what you did back there.”

“I couldn’t think of a worse outcome, unless of course, you had some other way to ruin my day?”

“Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you’re the problem? All these people keep leaving and you keep acting surprised.”

“You betrayed her! You betrayed her trust and look where it got us!”

“I should’ve stayed in San Francisco, I shouldn’t have ever met you.”

“Even after everything, you still won’t admit this was your doing. This was your fault. It always has been.”

“I can’t risk her getting hurt anymore, I can’t put her in danger just to keep you safe!”

“You’ve never been someone I looked up to, I just wished you’d at least acknowledge me.”

“This was never how I wanted things to go.”

“Living is so much harder than dying, are you sure you’re fit for living?”

“I wanted her heart, everything good and pure, but nothing in this world is ever what it seems.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his face- he’s going to destroy you.”

“She’s my daughter, can you really blame me for hating her when she’s just like me?”

“You never should’ve left, it never should’ve been an option.”

“Somehow, whatever you do seems to be the wrong thing. I’m sick of it.”

“Do you actually hate me or is it just the idea of having someone to despise that you enjoy?”

“Nothing you guessed about me was true, I’m nothing like anyone’s ever met before.”

“I’m not the person you thought I was, but neither were you.”

“How can you care for her? You’ve never met her, have you?”

“You’ll never meet again, life in death is like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“I wish a lot of things, but most of all, I wish you didn’t hate me.”

“These days, I think about you, but you’re never the same person I created in my mind.”

“It could’ve been worse, we could’ve fallen in love.”

“At least I can forget him- he’s easy to forget- but her, I’ll never forget her for as long as I live. And it’s all your fault.”

[flowercrown-bard]

You must have some review for me (1/ 2)

 pairing: Geraskier

word count: ~2k

read on AO3

part 2

summary: Geralt gives Jaskier three-word reviews and Jaskier is not very happy with them. Until he is.

---

"Fuck off, bard."

"How very dare you!" Jaskier clutched one hand above his heart, pointing the other accusatorily at Geralt. "I asked for a review, not for an impudence. At least the first review I ever got from you was constructive criticism, but you've only gotten worse since then."

Geralt shrugged and hid his shit-eating grin unsuccessfully behind a tankard. "You wanted three words and that's what you got."

Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "That's it. I'll never ask you for your opinion again."

They both were very well aware that that was a lie. Still, Geralt said, "Thank fuck for that."

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. Oh, if this was how Geralt was going to be then Jaskier would not hold back either. He would pester Geralt for reviews until Geralt admitted that Jaskier was good. -

Jaskier knew Geralt hated the song. He had complained often enough about the length, subject matter and utter obnoxiousness of it.

So naturally, Jaskier kept adding more and more verses to The Fishmonger’s Daughter. Sometimes it was just too much fun riling Geralt up.

For now, the drunks in the tavern were eating it up, cheering for the song to continue. Jaskier beamed at them and happily obliged. Truly, he was having the time of his life.

Contrary to him, Geralt seemed to very much despise every second of this. He kept glaring at Jaskier, only interrupting his brooding by taking occasional swigs of his ale. He probably contemplated throwing the drink at Jaskier. Or maybe he just thought his performance was better when Geralt himself was drunk. Either way, Geralt’s thoughts were surely full of impertinence.

As provocatively as humanly possible, Jaskier danced past the table Geralt sat at and stared daggers at Jaskier.

In between lines, Jaskier stopped playing and stole a sip of Geralt’s drink.

“How do you like the performance, darling?” He asked, putting his hands back on the lute and playing a little flourish to distract from the fact that he had stopped singing for now.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled in warning.

“Ah, that’s not a review, I’m afraid.” Jaskier winked at him and began making his way back to the centre of the tavern. “Give me a review and I might consider stopping. Three words or less.”

Geralt glowered. “Stop singing already.”

Jaskier’s grin widened. He continued playing.

-

“It was a forktail, not a dragon.”

Jaskier huffed and put his lute down. He should have known better than to ask Geralt for constructive criticism while he composed what might just be his most important song this year.

“Really, Geralt? That’s what you focus on?”

Geralt shrugged and leaned back on the bed of the inn they were currently staying at. “I don’t know what you want from me. All of your songs are inaccurate.”

“It’s not about accuracy. It’s about making the audience feel things. I need them to weep and to laugh and to fall in love with adventures as if they had experienced them themselves. So, what does the song make you feel?”

“Mainly annoyance.”

“Marvellous,” Jaskier said bitterly and flopped down on the bed, burying his head in his hands. He knew Geralt didn’t mean it, and any other day Jaskier would have laughed and teased him back, but Jaskier was stressed and stuck and he could really use some support right now. “I guess I’ll just try to annoy the judges of the most important bardic competition of the year into giving me points.” He groaned. “This is terrible.”

The mattress dipped when Geralt shifted, scooting a little closer. He radiated awkwardness and if he had been anyone else he might have started fiddling with his fingers in nervousness. As it was, Geralt just stayed quiet for an uncomfortably long moment, before looking at Jaskier from the side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not terrible.”

Jaskier let out a quiet laugh. “Well, you’re terrible at giving compliments.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be a compliment. I’m just saying your song can’t be worse than Valdo Marx’”

Ever so slowly, Jaskier could feel a smile stretch his lips. Geralt could pretend not to care all he wanted, but remembering a name Jaskier had dropped only a handful of times when he had been talking about music in order to cheer him up, was something that proved his claims of disinterest lies.

“Of course I’m better than Marx,” Jaskier said and bumped his shoulder into Geralt’s. “And just you wait. When the judges declare me the winner, you’re going to regret having called my song only ‘not terrible’.”

Geralt grunted in disagreement, but he didn’t try to hide his almost proud smile.

That alone was better than any review Jaskier was likely to get from Geralt any time soon. He found that that was good enough. For now.

-

After Jaskier finished his last song of the day - this one not so much about any gruesome fight or danger but about the good parts of the Path, like the stars that shone brighter over the open fields than they did above any city - Jaskier didn't even have to ask for his three words.

As soon as he came back to the table Geralt was sitting at and snatched the ale out of Geralt's hand, as had become his habit, Geralt quietly said, "It was good."

The shock of the almost shy admission was enough to make Jaskier choke on the ale.

"Excuse me?” he rasped out between coughs. “Geralt are you alright? Do you feel sick?"

He reached out to put a hand on Geralt’s forehead in mock-concern. Geralt let out a grunt and turned away. If Jaskier hadn't known any better he have almost thought that the tips of Geralt's ears were tinged with a lovely shade of red.

A grin spread over Jaskier's face and he let his hand wander to Geralt’s chin, turning it so he could see his face again.

"I'm just asking," he said in a teasing tone, "because for a second there I thought I had heard a compliment coming from you. Not even one wrapped in an insult!"

"Fuck off," Geralt said in a strangely raspy voice, lacking any heat. "I take it back."

A laugh bubbled up in Jaskier's throat and he put his hand on Geralt's arm for balance as he threw his head back when the laugh finally escaped him. "Ah there you are. Still the same Geralt that I know and love."

He could feel Geralt's muscles clench under his touch, but Geralt didn't pull away.

"You're insufferable."

"I know," Jaskier said with mirth dancing in his eyes. "But you love it."

He took another swig of the ale, mostly so that he wouldn't have to see Geralt's reaction to his words.

As he sat the tankard down, a strange disappointment overcame Jaskier. He had gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? Geralt had finally given him the praise he deserved. And yet Jaskier didn't want to end their little game. He wanted to keep asking Geralt for his opinion and he wanted Geralt to keep teasing him with impertinent replies or give him this soft look as he told him his song was good.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt if Jaskier continued to play this game a little longer. - "You are good," Geralt said without looking at Jaskier. If Jaskier hadn't known any better, he'd have said that Geralt way avoiding his eyes.

"How unoriginal.” He rolled his eyes with a smirk. “You already said that last time."

Not that it mattered. He would gladly listen to Geralt tell him he was good over and over again.

"No I didn't." Geralt's eyes flickered up to Jaskier's for a second before darting away again. "Last time I said it was good. The song."

"Is there a difference?"

Geralt stared into the fire for a long time. His jaw was working as if he couldn't decide whether he should explain himself or not. Eventually he settled on a simple "Yes."

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, waiting for Geralt to elaborate, but no more words left Geralt's mouth. Jaskier kept searching his face with the sinking feeling that he was missing something crucial. -

Geralt didn’t talk. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered Jaskier too much. Over the time he had spent with Geralt, he had gotten used to his silence and to cheerfully filling it with his own words.

Except today it felt wrong to try and do so. Geralt was different. His silence was different. The way he had refused to look at Jaskier even once since returning from the hunt was different.

Geralt hadn’t told him what exactly had happened – what had gone wrong – but he didn’t need to. Jaskier had spent enough time with him to realise that the scratches on his face were caused by fingernails and not claws. He knew that the bruises blossoming on his skin were caused by stones rather than a monster’s body slamming into him. He knew that no fear caused by a monster could get Geralt into this unresponsive state. Only words of hatred and terror flung at Geralt, claiming that Geralt himself was the monster, could do such a thing.

Jaskier wanted to touch Geralt, to reassure him. To hold him close and tell him that he was better than anything he was told, anything that he thought himself. He wanted to whisper words of kindness into Geralt’s hair until he believed them. But Geralt’s back was turned to him and he was tense, ready to flee if Jaskier so much as took a step in his direction.

Jaskier fingers moved on their own accord. There were not words to this song. Geralt didn’t need words right now. He wouldn’t have believed them.

But as Jaskier’s fingers plucked away on his lute, pouring his understanding, his comfort, his love into it, the tension slowly eased out of Geralt.

Softly, Jaskier began to hum the tune, trying to tell with the melody what Geralt would reject with words. He could do nothing but hope it helped. He doubted it did.

Geralt turned, not with his full body, but just enough that he could watch Jaskier as he played.

When Jaskier eyes met his and found them full of some emotion he couldn’t name – something soft and vulnerable and achingly beautiful – his fingers faltered and his throat grew tight, choking his voice.

Something flickered in Geralt’s eyes and suddenly he looked strangely young and afraid. “Keep playing, please?” His voice was so small.

Jaskier’s heart broke for him. Slowly, as if not to spook a frightened animal, Jaskier came closer to Geralt until their shoulders touched.  

He kept playing and he could almost imagine that the faint rumble in Geralt’s chest was him humming in tune.

He didn’t imagine the way Geralt leaned into him and pressed his head into Jaskier’s shoulder as if being close to Jaskier was the only comfort he could imagine.

-

This song was terrible. It was objectively the worst and if Jaskier had had any audience other than Geralt, he would have been ashamed to even think about playing such a thing.

But like this, with only Roach judging him and Geralt looking at him almost fondly, Jaskier warbled away to his heart’s content.

“Roach, the mighty steed

Does many valiant deeds

So she deserves all the treats

Yes, on that, we can all be agreed!”

A toddler could have come up with better rhymes and the metre Jaskier used could not have been worse.

But he was laughing and enjoying himself as he sang this little ditty. There was something freeing about not having to worry about being good for once, in being allowed to sing as badly as he wanted to just for the fun of it.

Geralt didn’t laugh at him, didn’t even roll his eyes. Instead he had this look in his eyes that Jaskier had seen more and more often lately and that could only be described as fond. One of the rare smiles that only Jaskier ever got to see tugged the corner of his lips up.

Jaskier ended his performance with an overly dramatic flourish and gave an exaggerated bow to Geralt and Roach.

When he righted himself, he knew that his face was flushed; from the exertion of dancing, from the excitement of having carefree fun and from the wave of emotion brought forth by the soft look on Geralt’s face.

“Where’s my review?” Jaskier teased, his heart pounding in his chest.

Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “You’re really never going to stop asking, are you?”

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear.” Jaskier cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Don’t be shy, you can admit it. That right there was a masterpiece. A song so great it shall never be surpassed.”

Geralt huffed, but his smile grew wider. He kept his mouth shut, almost as if he wanted to see how much longer Jaskier would go on with this ridiculousness.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at Geralt playfully. “Come on, just say it. You know you love it.”

He jabbed Geralt in the chest, more to see his reaction than anything else.

Geralt caught his hand and held it right there against his chest. His smile grew impossibly softer.

“I don’t love the song. You want three words or less? Fine.” He brought Jaskier’s hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. “I love you.”

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

[attheexactlyrighttimeandplace]

The result of the 2022 French presidential elections that took place today is impossible to understand: how come that the two extreme right wings candidates can claim to be in the second round while the only one progressist candidate who was the only one with an ascending dynamic for weeks is said to be eliminated?

People are showing pics of long lines at polling stations, something that never happened before in this country, while the governement is pretending that the participation has been lower than in 2017?

Macron the authoritarian leader and actual president has no grassroot movement to support him : he's only promoted by tycoons and the media they own. He did literally one meeting during all the campaign and didn't manage to fill the room. People were offered gifts to bring more people with them. He had no supporters to paste his posters and had to pay a private company to do it. All the representatives from his party said when then they went in the field to campaign for him that they were shocked by the level of hate he inspired because he was seen as arrogant and despising the french people.

What president who lead during the pandemic has been releected? None of them. None except in Portugal but the portuguese president won only because he had a very social policy, which was the total opposite of the authoritarian turn taken by Macron.

His health track record is a catastrophe: we had almost 140 000 deaths, a lot of them because he refused the quarantine when health experts were asking for it, he lied at the start of the pandemic about the necessity to wear masks to cover the fact that there was no masks to give, his health minister cried in front the journalists admitting the lie before resigning and is now prosecuted for that. He kept closing places in hopitals, even in the intensive care services where critical patients suffering from Covid were treated. He locked down the retirement homes and lots of ederly people died without seeing again their family. He left the schools open with no sanitary protocol, and children brought home the Covid which killed their parents, making them orphans.

One of the rare independent media in this country has counted around 30 financial scandals involving people who work with him, a lot as members of the government. Himself he lied about how much he paid taxes in 2017 and how much he spent in his 2017 election. I know all those scandals have been completely ignored by the mainstream medias, but the social networks talked intensively about it.

His climate change track record is on the same level as Trump and Bolsonaro. He supports only the fossil industry and the banks that fund them and it was denounced by 12 environmental organizations in a joint report summarizing and evaluating his actions during the last 5 years.

Racism and police violence has reached levels never seen in this country before him. Police impunity is total and the Justice system has been an accomplice of the most shocking miscarriages of justice ii have even seen (and i have studied law for 5 years). Police beating and killing innocent arab,black and muslims people, lying about the crimes committed that they in reality completely faked, and accusing the victims of rebellion in order to prosecute them.

This country would never have voted for him again: they rejected Sarkozy, who was every bit as bad as him but did less damages, for a second mandat, they would never have chose again Macron who looks to him as his sponsor.

Someone is stealing this election: manipulating the numbers, lying on the reports made in the polling stations. There's no other explanation.

I can't say more: i'm beyond rage, i'm beyond devastation and it's taking all my energy.

This result if confirmed is suicide, pure collective suicide.

[delirioushrimp]

Salvation is found in pain(ful pleasures) [Your Boyfriend AU]

Once more, I truly have no self control when it comes to @harbingers-appointed and his boys. Be happy Flauros, you finally get to steal the show from the King.

Hope you’ll like it Vee !

How many ? How many times did he kill you since the beginning of this twisted game ? How many times did you come back to him asking, craving, and begging for the punishment he was always so eager to bestow you ?

He cut your throat, watched you drown, let you bleed out, broke every bone in your body so many times you wonder how he hasn’t grown tired out of you yet. After all, no matter how satisfying and amusing it must be to kill a person -one yearning for death so ardently- over and over again, one has to get bored of seeing the same face dying by their hands, right ? You’re just a toy to him, an interesting one -maybe-, but a toy, nonetheless.

You’re not stupid enough to believe he genuinely likes you.

Still, you always come back to him, knowing he’s the only one able to give you what you want, what you deserve. You hate it when he does it in the front of the King though, because watching the pain and self-hatred in those gorgeous blue eyes as your life fades away to hysterical cackles, truly breaks your soul. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to suffer so horribly when all he’s done is love you earnestly and wholeheartedly, and most of all he doesn’t deserve loving someone as broken and ruined like you. You curse God for doing this to him, knowing you’ll never be able to return his feelings because you’re not worthy of his love. You’re not worthy of anything but pain.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair !

Lately though, you’re starting to notice a few changes in him. His knife lingers longer than it should, leaving shallow cuts on your skin before piercing you to the bone. His eyes which were usually narrowed in sadistic glee appear distracted, deep in thought as he observes your dying body. It’s strange, you’d never thought you’d get to see him so pensive; he always appears so confident, happy go lucky and in control of everything.

At first, you think it’s because he’s finally growing annoyed of your presence and constant pestering for pain. Maybe he found another, newer and more amusing toy to distract himself with. You would understand if that was the case, it was a wonder he actually “played” with you for that long. But that means you needed to find someone or something able to give you what you sought.

The next time you wake up after another of your “play sessions”, you don’t go to him. Instead, you ignore everyone and everything as you try to come up with a new alternative to your lack of executioner. You manage to evade Samael without much trouble, knowing the castle like the back of your hand after how many times you died there. You’re terrified of gazing into his eyes, terrified to see the absolute grief and agony in them.

You roam around the halls for a while before you manage to find a good enough hiding spot, a small balcony, away from prying eyes. You sit there for who knows how long, time perception long lost ever since the start of this never-ending game. What would happen now ? With nobody else willing to waste their time on you, what are you supposed to do ? Kill yourself over and over again until God decided to take pity on you and finally send your soul to where it belongs ? You remember the bastard’s words after the eighteenth time he cut you open, looking at you with that all-knowing smile.

“His Highness is the only who can end your misery. You could always ask him but- ah” he tilts his head to watch your life spilling away into a red river. “I doubt he’ll agree to it,” he ends with a dark chuckle. “But hey, no harm in trying, right ?”

He’d wanted you to do it, only because he knew of how much pain and agony your words would induce to the King. You had doubted his words, -you always did- fully aware that if he had lied to you, you’d have made Samael suffer for nothing. And you couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to bear the thought.

So you hesitated, waited for a miracle to happen, for the sadist to admit he was fucking with you, anything so you wouldn’t have to take the risk, like the coward that you are. And of course, he noticed, relishing in your growing  paranoia and dread. God ignored your pleas once more, and you began to understand why Samael rebelled. You’ve never been a fervent believer after all.

God is not a benevolent being , merely the leading puppeteer of this world.

You gave in after seven more deaths, despair finally overtaking over fear, and went to find the King. It felt disgusting, seeing him smiling so earnestly at your mere presence when you only came to use him for your own, selfish and self-destructive wish. You felt it to your core, invading your soul, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You wish he hadn’t knelt before you with such devotion, you wish he hadn’t kissed each of your trembling fingers so tenderly, you wish he hadn’t whispered your name so fervently. The words that left your mouth on that day felt like the vilest of poisons.

“You…would do anything for me, right ?”

“Anything !” you flinched at the desperate, borderline hysterical tone of his voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you !”

You wondered briefly if watching you die so many times is what caused him to say those words, clinging to your body so pitifully, or if his adoration truly ran that deep from the start. You wished to never have an answer because whatever of the two it’d be, it would only make you more guilty.

“So…” your lips were dry. You felt your sins crawling on your back. “Kill me. Kill me please.”

The  gut-wrenching look of pure horror which crossed his face told you two things; it told you your executioner had not lied to you, and it told you that no matter what you did, Samael would never be able to grant you your only wish. You knew that no matter how much you tried to hurt, destroy or even hate him- something you never believed to be possible- he could never bring himself to end your suffering. And you could not blame or despise him for that, he had waited so long for you and the only thing you gave him was pain and torment.

You deserve this, you deserve this punishment.

“Are you done moping around  ?” you hear that familiar, bone-chilling voice calls for you.

You don’t even turn around to face him but knows what awaits you if you refuse to answer his question, as rhetorical as it may seem.

“I’m not mopping around,” you flatly say. “Just here to think.”

You hear him take a step closer, but don’t flinch or try to move away while he stands right behind you, and you wonder how long it’s been since you got used to this.

“Really ?” he asks a bit more cheerfully. “So, you’re not avoiding me ?”

You frown and remain silent for longer than you should as you try to find the meaning behind his words. He doesn’t seem to mind though as if he was waiting for your half-baked excuse.

“Avoid you ?” you retort back in a slightly sarcastic tone. “What are you even saying ? I know you’ll always be able to find me.”

He hums in agreement, taking no offense of the fact you still refuse to look at him, instead you think he is pleased by your admission.

“You don’t seem very happy to see me though.” He almost sounds hurt at the idea and maybe you would have bought it if it was one of your first interactions. “Did I do something to upset you sweetheart ?” The innocence in his voice is sickening.

You never bought the cute pet names or the honeyed words of concern though. You recall how you cringed the first time he used them on you, which was strange. You had never met him, and yet somehow, you’d been able to tell this behavior was not natural to him. He was attractive -at least to your standards- , his voice was rich and smooth, and his gaze had been solely focused on you; you should have enjoyed the attention from such a charming being, or at least, feel mildly flattered. But instead, your mind and body recognized the eager executioner that he was. Maybe it was because you refused to believe someone could have a genuine interest in you, or maybe it was because you’d unconsciously compared him to the King. Whatever it was, you never fell for it, and you never will.

“No,” you answer in a detached tone of voice. “I’m just staying out of your way.”

You’re not sure if he is confused, amused or irritated by your words but it feels like you’re suffocating. You’re used to the mockeries, twisted chuckles and fake flatteries but this silence, it’s not normal.

When were things ever normal here ?

You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips when you feel a hand grabing you by the hips and a cold breath tickling your neck. You easily guess the smile against your skin, and it takes everything in your power to repress yourself from kicking him in the ribs. You’re not afraid of the pain that might follow after that, but the other types of punishments he must have in mind.

“You think I don’t want to play with you anymore ?” His voice drops by a few octaves, sending vibrations across your skin. You still manage a small nod, voice stuck in your throat. “Aw…how sad. I must have done a terrible job lately, haven’t I ?”

“It’s just-“ You don’t like how your voice waver at his freezing touch. “You seem distracted and well…bored.” You hear him whisper a small oh ? against your flesh. “I thought you got tired of killing me.”

You realize how fucked up this sounds, and a sense of relief washes over you because it means you still haven’t completely lost it. But the moment is short lived when you feel him chuckle darkly, sending goosebumps along your skins. You really, really don’t like this.

“How awfully observant of you dear.” You feel his teeth graze the juncture of your neck, but you don’t move an inch, instead wondering if he intends to cut your jugular with his sharp incises. He’s never done that before, at least from what you can remember. “But don’t worry, I’m not bored of our little game…yet.”

You believe him for once, it would be rather strange for him to come here if he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore. But his voice, the way he stands so uncomfortably close, tell you he wants to change the rules and you’re almost sure he’s happy you noticed the changes. In fact, all of this might have been part of his plan, for you to notice the little hints he dropped during your last sessions and break from the usual pattern the both of you had created since the first day.

He’s always five steps ahead of everyone after all.

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that no matter how this conversation will end, you won’t like what will come out of it. But it’s too late to turn back now, not when he’s literally clinging to you like some damn leech.

“What do you want ?” you curtly demand.

“Ah, don’t be like that sweetheart,” he whines to you, but you can feel his smile growing wider. “I just want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”

What the fuck is he saying now ? Maybe you should just kick him after all, then jump and, if you’re lucky enough, break your neck against the cold pavement below, if not you’ll just break every bone in your body and wait until you respawn like some videogame character. It’s nothing you haven’t experienced before, though the demon freak is more into using his knife -you think it’s always the same- than his own hands on you.

“We both know you’re not getting out if this cycle, not for a very long while at least…” he trails off, as if you had somehow forgotten why you were here in the first place, as if you weren’t living with the constant reminder that you couldn’t die. Is he trying to make you cry or something ? “And well…I know you’re not getting off of the pain, you’re not that kind of freak.”

“Just get on with it, the floor below us is starting to become more interesting than you,” you grit between your teeth as you take a step towards the edge for emphasis. He lazily takes another step as well, completely unbothered by the situation. He must know you’re not joking.

“Don’t interrupt me, that’s very rude,” he scolds you, like a parent trying to reason with their unruly child -the idea both amuses and creeps you out- but you don’t miss the cold authority behind it. The warning is clear. “Like I said, you’re not getting anything out of this and I’m starting to feel like the bad guy here.”

You take another step forward and grip the stone railing as tightly as you can as a sign for him to hurry but also to keep yourself from sending your fist in his face or his stomach. Can’t he just break your neck or bleed you dry ? Starting to feel like the bad guy ? Well, he’d fit the role if this was a classic fairytale, although as sweet and devoted Samael was to you, he would not make for a very good prince charming -or a very twisted one- while you’re all too aware of how terrible of a damsel in distress you’d be. One could almost say the purple freak is the only one playing his part right.

“Don’t you think you deserve some award for going this far ?”

Your eyes narrow. Why does he speak as if you had a choice in this ? Why does he speak as though there is anything to be celebrated expect for you to have fallen as low as only finding some sense of peace in dying brutally to the hands a psychopath ? Is this what he wants to reward you for ? Does he really think you’ll agree to it ? You refuse to believe it.

“Ah you’re right, that was a poor choice of words,” he admits in a childlike voice as if he’d heard your thoughts, but it’s not the first time he'd done that. “Rather, I think you’d enjoy our playdates much more if you indulged yourself a bit…” His voice grows huskier as the hand holding your hips moves lower and lower, somewhere he’s never been. “I promise to make it feel so good you’ll forget your own name…” he whispers sensually to your ear before his tone suddenly shifts to sadistic glee. “And then…I’ll watch that beautiful blissful expression of yours turn to absolute agony !”

His revelation turns your body to stone as you attempt to process what he just suggested. This can’t be real. All of this just because he wanted to fuck you  ? No, it was not just about sex -not when he could do so much better than you-, this was about the additional control he’d have over you. He’d already gained ownership over you once he became the only one able to give you pain, and by becoming the only one able to give you pleasure, he’d have complete control of your strings.

“I’m not interested, get off of me,” you try to sound calm, much calmer than the inner chaos that your mind is right now.

“Really ?” How could a word carry so much darkness ?

Before you can react, you feel  a hand grabbing your hair in a tight grip then violently yanking  you aside, in a soundless cry till you’re forced to look at him. You close your eyes on instinct, refusing to submit to his gaze. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes but you ignore them, instead focusing on the sensation of his cold face against your own.

“I have to admit, it’s been a while since I found someone so pathetic and hopeless. Kinda reminds me of…” he ponders while you try keep your breathing steady. “Oh no I shouldn’t speak of him when he isn’t here,” he seems to mumble to himself. “But really, you have nothing to lose here, cutie,” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

“You’re only doing this to hurt the King,” you finally manage to breath in a cracked voice.

“And what of it ?” he says in a surprisingly flat tone, which causes you to stop struggling. “You’ve only hurt him since you arrived here.”

You don’t want to hear it, not from him.

“You ignored him, didn’t even try to spare his feelings or spend time with him because you were too engrossed in the only thing that mattered to you .”

How dare he lecture you about feelings ? Him, out of everyone you’ve met ?

“And when you asked him to kill you ? Oh, that was beautiful !” He laughs heartfully. “Trying to use his own words against him so shamelessly…I’ll remember this for a while haha !”

“Stop…” you whisper weakly.

“Stop fooling yourself Darling, you’ve never cared for him,” voice full of poison slipping into your already sick mind. “Maybe you actually like to see him so miserable.”

“ That’s not true !” you cry out. “I never wanted him to suffer because of me !”

But have you ever done  anything to prove it ?

“I never-“ you struggle to form a coherent sentence. “I didn’t-“

“Didn’t even give him a chance, went straight to me instead. How fucked up is that huh ?”

You’re trembling, trembling from the truth of his words, trembling from the coldness of his body, trembling from realizing you’re the villain of this story.

“After all,” he murmurs right into your soul, “monsters recognize each other, isn’t that how the saying goes ?”

He lets go of you, and you crumble. You barely register your body falling to the ground as you feel your nails dig into your skin. He sighs.

“Come on sweetheart, you know I’m the only one who can make you feel better. It’s only going to get better from now on. “We’re gonna have so much fun you and I =)”

 [ACCEPT HIS OFFER]           [RUN AWAY]           [JUMP OVER THE EDGE]

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

Okay, so there are three endings to this fic, I intend to do them all but I’m really interested in which one you’d like to read first. I’ll regulary check to see what people want during the next few days.

Pick your poison :)

[twdbegins]

A Friendly Feud

__

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,759

“Is that really what you want?”

__

He infuriated you. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and push your buttons he certainly did. It was almost like he went out of his way to mess with you. As if he had nothing else on his schedule except pestering you. He was extremely persistent, you’d give him that. 

It seemed like you saw him more than anybody else at the Sanctuary. You didn’t even see Negan as much as you saw Simon. Maybe it was because the Sanctuary wasn’t THAT big or because Simon often sought you out. Either way, you had your fair share of encounters with him.

You fought all the time. Like, literally all the time. If you were in a room together, everyone would be sure to get a good view. Odd were, the two of you would start going at it at some point or another. The anger was always one sided. Simon never lost his patience with you, because he knew he was almost always the instigator of your fights. His amusement just made you angrier, and he fed off of it. 

It had gotten so bad that Negan refused to allow the two of you to do anything together if there wasn’t a third party involved. That didn’t stop Simon from going out of his way to hassle you.

You grimaced at the sound of whistling and heavy footsteps coming from down the hall. Oh, great. The man of the hour. You prepared yourself for his usual shenanigans, offering a very brief glance when he poked his head into the supply closet you were currently in.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He grinned proudly.

Did he really have to call you that? How aggravating.

“Hey, Simon.” You returned a rather unenthusiastic greeting.

His eyes were fixed on you as your attention remained on counting the unloaded boxes in front of you. Negan had put you on inventory duty for the day, meaning you’d be bopping around the Sanctuary’s supply closets counting resources from the run from the previous day. You could feel his gaze on you, the wheels in his head were evidently turning. He was probably figuring out a new way to get on your nerves.

“Do you need something?” You asked, tone full of irritation.

You still weren’t looking at him, trying to keep your cool. A smile was still smacked on his face, his expression not changing.

“Is it such a crime just to pop in and say hi to my favorite savior?” He asked, pretending to be offended.

You scoffed at that. His “favorite savior? Oh, please. What a charmer he thought he was.

“It is when I’m clearly busy.” You said, referring to the mounds of stuff you had yet to count.

“I’d hardly call counting boxes as busy.” He countered back.

You sighed heavily in annoyance. He just wanted attention. Your attention. That’s all he ever wanted was for you to acknowledge him whenever he was in your presence. Even if it could be rather annoying, you were the tiniest bit flattered. No one had ever gone after your validation as much as he did. You didn’t want him to feel like he had something to prove to you, because he didn’t. No one did. You just wished he’d pick a more pleasant approach.

“Well, I just do as I’m told and this is what I was told to do,” You smarted off, finally turning to look at him; “Do you have a problem with that?”

He took a step into the small closet. His smirk was gone, but his tone was just as playful as ever.

“Woah, darlin’. Why the bad attitude?” He asked, obviously knowing he was bugging you.

You tossed your head back in exasperation. It was evident that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You turned completely to face him, not realizing that he had been standing right behind you. You abruptly collided into him, your chest firm against him. You looked up into his eyes, your face growing hot. Had he always been that handsome? Your hard pause and stare told him everything he needed to know. You had a thing for him.

He knew it was mutual.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, but made no effort to back away from him. You meant for your words to come out as demanding, but instead they escaped as a desperate whisper.

“If you want to stick around, then make yourself useful and start counting.” 

He beamed at the invitation. You hadn’t actually ever offered your time to him. This was a step in the right direction in his eyes. Taking a leap of faith, his hands rested on your sides and gripped to keep you close.

“You sure that’s all you wanna do?” He asked lowly.

Before you knew it, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It wasn’t a gentle, experimental kiss. It was a deep, calculated, and passionate kiss that you could tell had been long awaited. The man that you thought you hated so much had you weak in the knees and barely processing any of the thoughts crossing your mind. Had you really been misinterpreting your feelings all along?

You pulled away first, heart suddenly caught in your throat as you felt yourself begin to panic. You unattached yourself from him and made a rash decision to get out before you had time to do anything else.

“I, uh...I’ve got to go.” You said at a more normal volume. 

You dashed out of the closet and back to the other side of the Sanctuary. You left him behind, feeling disappointed that his pledge for how he felt about you didn't go as he had hoped. For the first time, he felt afraid that maybe he had scared you off.

That was the last thing he wanted to do.

__

The days following the fateful make out session in the supply closet were tense and weird. You refused to look at him when you passed him in the hall and he didn’t speak to you for fear of freaking you out. Everyone around seemed to notice too. Suddenly, Simon wasn’t trying to get you riled up and you weren’t yelling at him to give it a rest. Your interactions were now stoic and silent. You were beginning to prefer the way it was before. At least then he was actually talking to you.

Oddly enough, the person who felt they were most affected was Negan. Negan despised silence, unless it meant everyone was listening to him. Even he would admit that the arguments the two of you had often gave him a headache, but he realized that he would rather down a couple aspirin after every meeting than have to stew in the tension that radiated off of the both of you now.

It took about an hour or so, but Negan was able to squeeze it out of Simon as to what exactly went down to where things had changed so drastically. Negan was pleased that Simon had gotten his act together and made a move, but he needed this to be resolved now. Because he just couldn’t take it anymore.

So that’s how you and Simon ended up in a room together. Alone. To most people, this was a disaster waiting to happen. Either he’d sweep you off your feet or you’d finally kill him. 

You sat at the table and he leaned against the wall, neither of you were brave enough to speak first. The silence was painfully loud, it was like a ringing in your ears. It was just a matter of who would crack under pressure first. It sure wasn’t going to be you. So he caved.

“Listen, [Y/N], about the other day...” He spoke gravelly; “I didn’t mean to cross any lines or freak you out.”

Your cheeks burned, your glance was committed to one area of the table. You weren’t looking at him yet. 

“I just don’t think we could go back to the way we were after that.” You admitted.

Simon shrugged, beginning to warm up to this conversation that needed to be had.

“Is that really what you want?” He questioned. 

“Yes.” You lied, but thought you were being truthful.

He felt gutted. Ouch. That was a blow to the chest. He could tell that you weren’t confident in your answer, though. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was sure that you knew what you wanted. He took the seat next to you.

“So you’re telling me that the way you looked at me that day meant nothing? The way you kissed back just as much as I did wasn’t important?” He interrogated.

He had worked hard to build a connection before he made a move on you. He wanted to be absolutely sure that you didn’t want this. It would hurt him if you didn’t, but at least he would know it was honest. 

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I'm saying.” You said in an overly defensive growl.

You still hadn't looked at him, and he wasn’t convinced. There was something you weren’t saying.

“Look at me then. Look at me and tell me you don't want this,” He said more sternly than you’d ever heard him; “If you don't want me then say the word. I’ll walk away and never bring it up again.”

You looked at him immediately, ready to deny him once more, but couldn’t. The words didn’t come. Why was it so hard to say no to this? He bothered you something awful. He annoyed you and he drove you absolutely crazy to a point of madness. And you loved it. 

“I can’t say it,” You spoke gently; “I can’t say it, because...I know it wouldn’t be true.” 

And there it was. The real confession. He knew you hadn't admitted it to yourself. It was strange how we deny things to ourselves.

“It’s pretty obvious that we have something going. I’m crazy about you and I don’t want us to miss this chance,” He continued; “We don't have to jump right into it. I mean we could-”

In a shocking turn of events, you kissed him. Just as you had kissed a few short days ago. He smirked underneath your lips. Hook, line, and sinker. Turns out his inkling was right. And boy did he love it when he was right.

“I think we can jump right into it. We’re past the introduction stage.” You grinned.

He smiled back, throwing a wink before kissing you again.

“No complaints here.”