automatonwithautonomy · 6 months ago
Text
girl help i accidentally made myself emotional about the eighth house---
fuckkkkk. i mean.
imagine you are born and raised to die. prepared for slaughter in every way, designed to be used and used until there is nothing left. you are nothing but your sword and your honour and a battery. the only thing you have is your word and you cling to it will all the twisted want of someone raised to be no one.
and you meet your necromancer, and he's a scared little kid thats going to kill you. he will murder you, suck you dry and burn all the things that make you a person. the weight of a house rests on his shoulders and his life haunts yours.
he looks at you like your every word is gospel, the writ of the Emperor Himself, and it is the worst thing he could do. he loves you. he loves you in the way an uncle loves a nephew and the way a child-cult-leader loves a scion of his house and the way a necromancer loves a cavalier and he is going to eat you, lyctor or not.
but he gets older and wiser and he pulls the life out of you and he forgets when you seemed the cleverest person he knew. there is something worse. this is worse. you were born and raised to be a battery. but you are no longer a beloved one.
the
only
thing
you
have
left
is
honour.
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thesummerstorms · 3 months ago
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I can acknowledge that the text SAYS that Annabeth Chase worked out her problems with her dad, that her stepmom seemed "nice", and that her "resentment" is described as seemingly unimportant in Blood of Olympus. I can acknowledge the text SAYS that Annabeth's family problems are resolved.
However. That does not mean that I actually buy it. If RR wanted me to accept that outcome, he should have done the actual work of proving it.
Yes we have the scene with the plane and Mrs. Chase telling Percy that Annabeth has a home.
But those two scenes in TTC don't actually work as a source of a resolution to that plot thread because they don't address the root of the problem- Annabeth being hurt by Frederick's neglect and her step-mother 's blame/callousness.
Even if they ARE trying to do better now (which to honest, feels like a cop out to me, almost as if RR just decided he no longer wanted to write that thread and cut it off quickly) the problem lies in what already happened in the past and how badly Annabeth was hurt by it.
She could have died so, so easily, and even if you want to argue perfect intent for the Chase adults (which I don't) she was emotionally fucked up by what happened for years. This has already happened.
But there's not even a hint of an apology or actual reflection on what caused those events and how things need to be moving forward. It's just assumed that TTC automatically fixes everything.
And yes, I actively have a post going around about how an author has to pick and choose their narratives and what they want to focus on for what characters.
But I would argue that RR already chose to make that plot line an important part of the plot- given how it drives Annabeth's motivations and actionals on an emotional level for pretty much all of TTC- it's just that he handled it badly.
If it was going to be addressed, especially if it was going to be "fixed", then we needed more to convince us that Annabeth had reason to trust her parents again. And again, for me one plane scene that doesn't go into what Annabeth has already experienced doesn't work for me personally.
Especially when you look at things like how Annabeth was still living in boarding schools full time, her description of the night she ran away in HOH, her persistent fear of abandonment.
And before anyone brings it up, I do actually have some sympathy for Frederick Chase. I personally am deeply adverse to the idea of having children of my own, so putting myself in his shoes of having been given a whole infant I never wanted and didn't know was a possibility, freaks me out a little too!
BUT. That doesn't change the fact that he had a responsibility as an adult-
to either choose to raise Annabeth fully as his child and accept the responsibility that entailed
OR
to find someone who could take care of her the way she deserved if he was not emotionally or mentally able to fulfill those needs.
I'm not saying any of it would be easy, but he did in fact have a basic obligation to make sure Annabeth was receiving care from SOMEONE. That's basic decency as an adult with some form of power over a child even if he DIDN'T want to be her father.
But his refusal to actually commit to either path just did MORE damage in the long run.
And he's free to try and make amends, I guess. People can change.
But I just don't feel there's enough to show that he really has long term, much less to give ANNABETH reason to believe he has.
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mothwingwritings · 1 year ago
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C and D for hekuta doyler!! >:3
Aye aye! ( ̄^ ̄)ゞAfter months of working on these I am in the home stretch. Sorry they have been coming so late, thank you all for your boundless patience and for just being all around lovely. <3
Warnings: Doyle is a huge asshole, mentions of sex (non and dubcon) and emotional, mental, and physical abuse. Kidnapping and being held against your will, too. Please be mindful!
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Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Being with Doyle is a state of constant whiplash-you never know what you are going to get with him at any given moment. One minute he’s cold and calculating, watching your every move as he picks you apart and lashes out at the smallest indiscretion. Everything you do is wrong, you are a useless idiot, how were you even able to survive so long on your own with how brainless you are? You should count his intervention as a blessing really, if he hadn’t scooped you up on the street who knows how long your dumbass would have survived out there.
Then the next minute he couldn’t care less about you. It’s like you don’t have a presence, as if you’re just a phantom haunting his walls. You can actively seek him out, speak to him, touch him even, and he’ll ignore it all. He’ll give you the cold shoulder, shoot you a warning glare, or if you get annoying enough, slap you away-but he won’t talk to you. In these instances there is no acknowledgment of your existence at all, which is more dehumanizing than any of the other abuse he throws your way. When he wants you, you exist. When he doesn’t, you are nothing. Everything is based on his whims.
To Doyle your whole life is a mockery, your existence something to sneer at and lord over. You are his pretty piece of property, making your sole purpose on this planet to bring him entertainment in whatever form he deems fit.
It’s maddening. If he is so detached from you, why did he kidnap you? If he can’t stand you, why keep you forced in his company? You live in a constant state of dread, unsure if you will wake up to an abusive tyrant who will assault you the moment you open your eyes, or a flippant jerk who doesn’t have the decency to acknowledge you are even alive, let alone feed you or take care of your basic needs.
But the absolute WORST is the rare instance he tries to show ‘affection’. His hands trailing down your sides leave goosebumps in their wake, his mouth teasing and biting as feverish lips latch painfully to your neck. Sex with him is just as much of a whirlwind as the rest of your ‘relationship’. He could be jackhammering away at your poor abused body, littering your skin with bruises and cuts while he’s consumed in his lust, only to moments later be handling you so gently it was as if you were made of porcelain. Each moment of intimacy is a venture into unknown territory, bliss and despair, pleasure and pain mingling in a dangerous dance for dominance with each encounter.
You don’t know what disgusts you more, that he forces himself upon you without a second thought, hurting and violating you in every way imaginable until he has had his fill, or that he knows all the right things to do to your body to coax pleasure from you while he’s doing so.
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Doyle has very little regard for your opinions and feelings-everything he does is for his pleasure and satisfaction alone. If he wants to kiss you, he’ll do it. If he wants to fuck you, he’ll do it. If he’s in a mood and needs to take out his anger and frustration on something, you are the perfect outlet. His attention is never something you take pleasure in, he knows this and chooses to disregard it. You belong to him now and he can do whatever he wants with you, to hell with anyone else’s opinion (yours included).  It would be more out of character for him to actually take your desires into consideration then for him to not just do with you as he pleases. Should you try to impose your will on him in anyway he’ll give you a merciless reminder, quickly and efficiently nipping any thoughts of defiance in the bud.
You have very little say in just about every aspect of your life with him. From what you wear to how and when you sleep, none of it is truly in your control. If you get too cold you have to beg for a sweater or a blanket. Not satisfied with the amount of food he gives you? He’ll only accept ‘favors’ for anything extra (if he even follows through after you perform them). Any choice you have while in his possession is an illusion, every option always boiling down to ‘give him what he wants or face the consequences’.
So you can cry and protest all you want, beg and plead and even try to negotiate with your unflappable captor, he simply doesn’t care. All of the wallowing and supplicating is part of his amusement, and you do it so well! He doubts you understand just how hot your tear stained cheeks and quivering bottom lip makes him, you don’t realize the rush of excitement he gets when you get on your knees and cling to his leg, staring up at him with big watery eyes. Sniveling beneath him is the ideal place for you, and if you have any ounce of self-preservation you’ll be a good little pet and continue to do as he says and accept his authority. Otherwise, you better get used to pain darling~
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mwebber · 1 year ago
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sebmark the mummy au 💖
helloo thank u for the prompt! i haven't watched this movie since i was a wee child and i've been on the revenge of the mummy ride too many times to count so it was fun to see actual clips again and reacquaint myself w canon... here we go!
-- CAIRO, EGYPT : 1926 - A GALLOWS COURTYARD
"You fucking liar," Mark seethes under his breath, though to little effect; his intended audience is remorseless, and anyone else who'd care is on the other side of the world. Ahead of him, the prison warden takes his sweet time to lead them onward towards their target. "Dig down in Thebes, my ass."
To his side, Jenson shrugs. "So I made a mistake, big deal."
"You lied to me." It bears repeating. "Christ."
"Just Jenson."
Mark shoots his supposed best friend a glare drier than the air scratching their lungs. "Don't get cute—you stole an artifact from some stranger."
"And if it worries you," says Jenson, slow-like, "I actually picked his pocket."
"That's the same damn thing—!"
"We're here," the warden cuts in, stopping to open the large, imposing door before them. "Visitors."
With another hasty glare sent Jenson's way, Mark nods sharply at the warden, and steps into the visitor's pen. If he needs to take charge here, so be it. "What is he in prison for?"
The warden snorts. "What isn't he in prison for?"
... which doesn't help in the slightest. But before Mark can press, the interior cell door flings open, banging noisily against the wall as their target is dragged into the room, heavily chained.
"Ah," he remarks flatly. Everything makes sense with stunning clarity, now: their target is a dishevelled kid, some street nobody and common criminal. Jenson probably did him a favour, taking a priceless artifact off his shoulders.
Then, the kid looks up—and Mark reassess. Still a street nobody, still a common criminal, and young, but definitely not a child. There's a haunted arrogance to the harsh set of his brows, the sneer curling his bitten lips. He'd be handsome, if not for the filth and the bruises: electric blue eyes, a mop of curly blonde hair, and though the rest of him looks hungry, he's soft at his cheeks.
"Ah," he imitates. His tone is disgustingly saccharine. Mark decides that he does not like this stranger. "What's a pretty man like you doing in a place like this?"
Mark promptly corrects himself: he really doesn't like this stranger.
"Pretty man?"
Jenson lets out a guffaw, the unhelpful bastard.
"Smile more," the target drawls. "You're less pretty when you talk."
Behind them, the warden clears his throat. "I'll be back soon."
"Please," calls the target. "Oh, I long for your retu—!"
It's over before Mark can process it, the swift way one of the guards slams the stranger headlong into the bars. There's only a flash of pain across his face; then the sneer returns, more pronounced than before.
Beside him, Jenson looks completely stupefied. Mark forces his feet forwards, and crouches by the bars until he's eye-level with the stranger.
"We found your puzzle box," he explains. "Can we ask you some questions about it?"
The target blinks slowly, a picture perfect look of innocence. "Who's asking?"
Mark glances up at the guards, who have stepped back a pace, but their expressions are inscrutable. "I'm Mark. My research is on Ancient Egypt, and I'm on loan at the Egyptian Museum. My partner there," he jerks his head up in Jenson's general direction, "is Jenson."
"Well," sniffs the target. "If we're doing pleasantries."
Jenson chooses this moment to finally speak. "We know who you are, Doctor Vettel."
Whipping around, Mark fixes the other man with the millionth glare of the day. He didn't know that. What's some street scum doing with a doctorate degree?
"Please," Vettel scoffs. "Don't Doctor Vettel me. You're the man who stole my map, aren't you?"
At the very least, Jenson has the decency to look away. "I might have let my hand slip."
Vettel turns his gaze on Mark. Up close, his eyes are really quite unnerving—calculating, like he's constantly sizing them up. "You don't know where it leads," he starts. "I do. It's not a place for tourists."
"We do too," Mark snaps quietly, eyes flitting towards the guards again. "We need to go; we just don't know how to get there."
"Need," repeats Vettel. "That's a funny word, for something as desolate as sand and death."
The creak of the visitor pen door opening has Mark leaning against the bars, his voice hushed and hurried.
"Will you tell us how to get there? The exact location?"
Vettel leans closer too, pulling on his chains. "You want to know."
"Yes," Mark snips, all too aware of the warden entering the room.
"You really want to know?" There's metallic clinks as Vettel tenses against his restraints.
His face is so close to Mark's. His breath is vile.
"I think we're out of time," Jenson pipes up nervously.
"Yes," Mark repeats emphatically, hissing as he leans impossibly closer so that he can hear even the quietest of whispers—
and Vettel kisses him.
Square on the mouth.
It's not a nice kiss by any means. There's no finesse, nothing except the lick of Vettel's tongue against his bottom lip and the dry press of their lips. It's complete and utter shock that drives Mark to kiss him back automatically, to let his mouth slip open—
"Gorgeous," Vettel rasps, pulling away as the guards behind forcefully reel him backwards, and Mark isn't sure if it's a nickname or a sarcastic observation of the state of things. "Then get me the fuck out of here."
"Wait." Dumbfounded, Mark licks his lips, before scrambling up into action, turning towards the warden. "Wait. Where is he being taken?"
The warden simply smiles. "To be hanged."
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sugarcherriess · 2 years ago
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You won't be able to push off master, little bunny hehe.
Also since you said we can request anything can I request sadistic incel hyunjae meets anime girl hehe - 🥛
I’m going to ignore that this. Sentence. Has been festering in my askbox for three months.
And now that I got to it I kind of forgot whether the mc was supposed to be an anime enthusiast or an actual come-to-life anime person so I just went with the latter because that’s more interesting. But this is definitely not even close to what I had told you guys about my extreme Hyunjae anime fucker idea 🗿🗿
(Also it’s they/them bc milk later edited the request not me tampering with the request 😭)
Sadistic Incel!Hyunjae x Anime!They/Them:
cw - smut, mc has a pussy and tits, dubcon? I mean mc is from an anime drawn in a plot where they get fucked constantly so they don’t rlly know the difference of being used or otherwise, bimbo-ish behaviour, mentions of pet play, throat fucking, perverted behaviour from strangers, owner/pet relationship, dystopian au
Let’s talk about a dystopian society where technology has evolved so far that you can buy or rent anime people online
Of course, the program started for people to be able to hang out with there favourite characters or take help from them
But there are some sick headed people out there as well
People like Hyunjae who pick out the sluttiest anime characters to buy
So they can satisfy their sick brains by using them for sexual purposes
Because nobody seems to be willing to date him irl, Hyunjae’s constantly horny brain decides to invest in this program
He chooses the character with the most pornographic plot and dressing
And the bimbo-est personality
Just like the mc of this story
He’s not even ashamed when he makes y/n walk with him all the way back to his home from the delivery portal downtown
People ogle y/n’s huge breasts jiggling as they walk by
Some even trying to sneak in and fondle their ass as Hyunjae has to stop at different places
But then they finally come home! Inside the safety of Hyunjae’s room!
Not that y/n is safe there anyway
Hyunjae is a bigger monster than those strangers
As y/n will soon find out.
Hyunjae doesn’t wait for anything
He’s impatient and restless
Although he does have the decency to tell y/n a few important things:
“My name is Jaehyun but you can call me Hyunjae. I am your owner from now on and you will do as I ask. Got it?”
“Mhm!”
The answer is more cheerful than the occasion requires
Since y/n doesn’t yet realise they are a slaughter lamb that walked all the way to the lion’s cave
“Don’t mumble in front of me, I hate it,”
“Yes, Hyunjae!”
And just like that, y/n gets their first task
“I have a very important gaming session in a few minutes and I need you to sit between my legs and warm my cock with your mouth while I play,”
“Okay, Hyunjae,”
“You’re not supposed to make any sound or any protests. Don’t move until I tell you to move,”
“Yes, Hyunjae,”
He nods towards his desk, ushering y/n under there
Surprisingly, it’s not that cramped of a space but it still isn’t the most comfortable
Y/n does their best to not hurt themselves but how careful can they be on their knees with their mouth wide open for, essentially, a stranger?
Hyunjae, not giving a single fuck about them, slides his pants down and pulls y/n in by the hair to his cock
He uses the other hand to tap his tip on y/n’s mouth, making poor, dumb y/n smile
He fists their hair to slide them down their cock experimentally for a few moments, checking the temperature and whether y/n’s mouth can get him wet enough for an easy slide
Once he’s satisfied that their mouth has soaked him enough, he gives y/n no warning before pulling them all the way down
Hyunjae’s tip shoves uncomfortably at the back of y/n’s throat
For extra convenience, his motion has no specific pattern!
So yk, y/n is really thrown for a loop!!
Which is perfect because if not now then when?
(Sarcasm)
He’s unbothered by how harsh he’s holding y/n’s hair or jostling them around
All he knows is that he wants to cum and use y/n so they’re his money’s worth
Sometime amidst this, his game begins
And he ignores y/n for the most of it unless it’s to push them from the back of their head until their nose is pressed to his pelvis
He harshly shushes y/n when they gag a little too loud for his liking
Not that he cares if his friends hear
Which ofc they do
He definitely uses the opportunity to boast about how much pussy he’s about to get from now on
Since his dumb pet is gonna be at his disposal constantly
Only good for being fucked and used as a cumdump
Y/n whines a little bit at the indirect degradation solely because they would like attention on themselves now!
The bad words don’t bother them
Because their owner thinks they’re useful <3
Y/n’s eyes might be tearing up and they might be struggling to breathe but that does not bother Hyunjae in the slightest!
With every short break in the game, his hand is back on y/n’s hair and pulling them down while simultaneously snapping his hips up
His desperately pussy-starving ass doesn’t even realise that he could be using, well, y/n’s pussy for the same reasons he is using their mouth
And he’s cum like. Four times in the small timeframe he’s had them on his cock
Somewhere amidst this mess he had hastily ordered y/n to pull down their top
He just wanted the tits to pop out but
The top was so snug that their tits squished together as well.
And lo and behold
His team finally won the game after two hours of stressful gameplay
And what did Hyunjae do?
He celebrated by pulling y/n up on his lap to use their pussy
Like he had initially planned
A plan he so gracefully forgot.
He nipped and bit at y/n’s tits as they bounced on top of him
Face smushed in their chest, Hyunjae grabbed their ass to force them down harshly on their cock
In true pussy-deprived-loser fashion, his thrusts were uncoordinated due to lack of proper practice
“Fuck! Tell me how good I’m fucking you, you slut”
God knows how his virgin ass was even able to say the entire sentence without his voice breaking is astonishing
But y/n, being the perfect little pet used to being talked down to, obliges
In true Hentai fashion, y/n whines and cries, narrating everything they’re feeling inside them
All the ways Hyunjae’s cock has them fucked up
Their mouth is drooling exactly like their pussy
Face dripping with all sorts of fluids
Hyunjae can’t resist but to fuck them harder
In pursuit of a ahegao face from y/n
Which he gets
Drooly tongue out, teary eyes crossed, blushed cheeks heating up more by the second– the nines
He cums for the last time for the night, hopefully, Hyunjae shushes his moans by fixing his teeth around y/n’s neck
And biting hard
Trying to engrave his mark on them Like a rabid dog
Y/n screams loudly– Well. As loud as their hoarse and overused throat could let them
Eyes twitching, y/n squirts all over Hyunjae
Because they were encoded to be an anime character and what kind of anime character would they be if they didn’t squirt easily hello?
Not that Hyunjae minds it
But he still reprimands them for it
And makes them lick it off him because “a good pet cleans up their mess otherwise they are useless. Do you wanna be useless? Do you want me to throw you on the streets for anyone to use?”
“No, Hyunjae!”
(Said with wet puppy eyes and a pout deeper than the pacific ocean)
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curltee · 1 year ago
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(my bros commentary while watching THC1 )
"Are those his dogs? Hes crying cuz its badly photoshopped"
"Crying while carrying a whole ass gun"
"Bitch thats the point of a present"
"Whats this suspicious nightclub theyre going to."
"Does she know how phones work?
"Shes the dumb bitch in this group"
"Straight up, the drama team needs to learn how to take phone calls like he does. Fake phone calls"
"Um whys he looking like that when he injects her?"
"The sexual tension of this scene right now...wild. Pls tell me rn that this is secretly a torture porn???"
"Ofcourse hes gonna take it personally you twig"
"He can be a gardener"
"What a gentlemen, he even carries him"
"Dang he got a screamer here. And i thought those two girls were bad enough"
"Im sorry i just cant get over the shape of his fucking head"
"Hes like attractive, but in a creepy way"
"jenny gives me the mom come pick me up im scared deal"
"Can we appreciate that he has the decency to not hit the women. Yeah straight up he just awakens them so calmly. with the girls its like "hi besutiful goodmorning!" Then just fucking smack the guy on the face
"Id rather let him wake me up by smacking me than creepily stroke my hair like that"
"Why not hit that glass with your butt?"
"Why is he apologizing for not shooting her?"
"Oh my god shes really is the dumbest bitch alive. I thought jenny was but no"
"Fuck both jenny and the asian dude bitch runnn"
I could watch somebodys head cut off but not a butt removal"
"Okay but why the guy who screams alot placed at the front ???"
"Dang should have put jenny at the front to get a head action. unless hes into dudes"
"Do you think he has sex with it? If so which end would he prefer more? Or do you think he sees it as innocent but creepy way? Like this is my centipede child i love you"
"If he gives them painkillers does he only have the choose one but triple the amount of painkillers?"
Poor girls, one is literally eating her friends ass...forever"
"Okay so..nazi european madman. kamikaze shithole..What racial slur would be next"
"His chicken noise reminds me of squilliam"
"Is he dying? Oh shitting my bad."
"Did he atleast take their tongues out? or do they taste everything? Thats jsut nasty "
"OHH NIPPLE HELL YEAH"
"These dudes are definitly not trained to be cops. They just claimed they are on a random day "
"Why do they dressed like our uncles?"
"MAKE HIM FALL MAKE HIM FALL WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE HIM LIKE THAT YOU IDIOT".
"Out of all stairs why the spiral ones"
"A wild human centipede 🎶 got chased by a doctor 🎶 will the centipede make it🎶 or get eaten alive 🎶 find out in our next episode of planet earth"
"Oh yeah hes licking it. thats gross"
"He really just crawled themselves into a room with no plan. its going good so far"
"So did she just assume the glass was still broken. Does she have no concept of time. Probably not "
"The amount of grunts they had to record for this"
"Thats a deep cut"
*Heiter got shot* "Thats satisfying"
"Annnnd shes dead. or passed out atleast. Oh no shes really dead"
"I swear they hold eachothers hands very much"
"Oh they shot this scene really well. Like the angle and everything. Props to her can translate dread into her eyes. This is makes me sad."
"Imagine being in the middle and your counterparts are fucking dead. Thats gonna be her motto is she survives this"
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gogtopia · 1 year ago
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Its so fucking clear that u only want to avoid speculation about gnfs sexuality because u want to fuck him
believe it or not i’m a grown ass adult who knows that i’m not gonna fuck my celebrity crush. honestly i just think that george (and any other cc for that matter) is a real fucking person who shouldn’t be cyberstalked and have his every move picked apart to “prove” that he’s one sexuality or another. none of us fucking know him. we never fucking will. all we do know is that he’s clearly expressed a desire to keep his personal life private. the only thing he has ever said about his sexuality publicly is that he was straight, no matter how you want to choose to pick apart his tone. that was a long time ago maybe something changed but the fact is if he’s not bringing it up in any capacity, it probably either hasn’t changed or he just doesn’t fucking want us to know something so personal about him. george has actively expressed that he would keep his dating life private if he had a partner and i really think it’s not hard to guess why that might be given how ppl in this fandom act 💀 give him the basic decency of some privacy in the personal aspects of his life instead of picking apart everything he does. i promise you it’s not hard to mind your own business
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blorbologist · 2 years ago
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aaaaaaaand vex, 14? to finish off the blorbo thoughts
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14. Detect Thoughts
"For the duration, you can read the thoughts of certain creatures. When you cast the spell and as your action on each turn until the spell ends, you can focus your mind on any one creature that you can see within 30 feet of you. If the creature you choose has an Intelligence of 3 or lower or doesn't speak any language, the creature is unaffected.
You initially learn the surface thoughts of the creature - what is most on its mind in that moment. As an action, you can either shift your attention to another creature's thoughts or attempt to probe deeper into the same creature's mind. If you probe deeper, the target must make a Wisdom saving throw. If it fails, you gain insight into its reasoning (if any), its emotional state, and something that looms large in its mind (such as something it worries over, loves, or hates). If it succeeds, the spell ends. Either way, the target knows that you are probing into its mind, and unless you shift your attention to another creature's thoughts, the creature can use its action on its turn to make an Intelligence check contested by your Intelligence check if it succeeds, the spell ends."
[No one asked for Ruidusborn!Percy but I am telling you: you want Ruidusborn!Percy.]
Catha squints, white and sightless, high in the sky. Sightless, he knows, because he can feel Ruidus behind the clouds. Closer, still, in the pulse deep in his belly.
It feels, as always, like judgment.
“You don’t trust me,” says Percival plainly. Picks up on the unsettled echo only because his walls are so shaky as-is, between these walls. 
He endeavors to focus on his own mind before continuing: “I know. In fact, I agree. I shouldn’t be trusted.”
“The fact you know is half the problem,” Vax snaps. “What the fuck was that, back there? Burning out his tongue? The fucking crest? You didn’t need to torture the bastard, Freddy.”
Percy tips his head. “Torture is detrimental to extracting information in most contexts,” he agrees. “But it makes my skillset a little… easier.”
It felt a lot like prying apart his gun for repairs - a little leverage, a little twist here, to unveil the inner workings beneath his critical eye. Too much and the pain overwhelms conscious thought. He had to use a light touch. Learned, too well, what a light touch felt like. 
(The worst part was how cold her mind had been, when he had no choice but to listen and listen and hear every other thought - his siblings’, his brothers’, his sister’s - go out, listen to the diagrams and debate on efficiency and see himself through her eyes as meat.)
There’s a temptation, as he faces Vax’s furious stare, to drop the pretense and listen. To know, truly, what they think of him. He was considered cursed, unlucky, moonspawn before. What is he, now, vomiting smoke and red lightning from his cruel hands? Worse than the unlucky birthday that made him what he is.
“Enough,” Vex says. “We don’t have time for this right now.” Her gaze flicks his way. “Percy - are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he replies.
It isn’t just the moon that judges him - Vax’ildan, Vox Machina do, too.
--
The lesser vampire is dead. His goons are dead. Percival tastes ozone and smoke and the combination is disgusting and digs into the crevices between his teeth - he can’t spit it out. 
He knows this manor. A few times he and his siblings visited family friends, here. Percival was usually permitted to excuse himself upstairs. Ostensibly to read. He did read - but he could feel the relief radiating off everyone when he left the room.
He’s gotten better, at keeping thoughts out of his head. First it was politeness, propriety - then something like a lifeline, that he was still himself, alone in his own head, a person, if unwhole. 
(So why did he hear someone else, then?)
Such decency is a luxury Vox Machina cannot afford, here, in a Whitestone actively hunting for their heads.
So Percival feels Vex’ahlia storm up the steps after him. She does not bother to go quietly, to try and sneak up on him, so he supposes she must know this. 
Vex is… an enigma. One he would rather not solve, ever, because he doubts she wants to be known. The discrepancy between how she presents herself and how she thinks, how she feels, is so jagged he fears it will bleed into his own head sometimes. 
For how ordered and careful she is in the day to day, how she measures out coin like a miser, she’s… messy. A tangle - bramble thicket throughout the seasons, the best he can describe. Impossible to follow, with leaves, blooms and berries in turn. And always bearing claws. 
He’s thankful for that - it keeps him from stumbling into them - into her - when his focus wanes. 
She’s sharp here, too, an arrow whizzing right up the stairs. Percy hastens to steel himself, blot out her thoughts - so focused on this goal, he’s completely caught off guard when she wheels him back into the wall. The wallpaper has been neglected - it creases against his back, beneath his hands. 
The last scrap he catches, before he tunes her out, is ‘Is he alright?’
“I’m fine,” he says, without meaning, and regrets it so painfully when her eyes widen. “I’m - I’m sorry.”
“Look me in the eye, Percy,” Vex’ahlia snaps, and he obeys. It’s easier, when he has a target. Shooting is almost soothing for him, even if lately it feels as though his lightning is more effective. Here he zeroes in on the bullseye of her pupil, darting back and forth as she judges him. 
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. 
Vex blinks, and he is robbed for only a moment. “Do you trust us?”
Percy sputters. Made difficult by her forearm on his throat and - oh. He swallows, mind hot static. “Of course -”
“I trust you,” she says, more quietly, more pressure than words. “Please, Percy. Honest - are you alright?”
“You shouldn’t,” he replies. “Trust me, that is. We have been over this.”
Vex’s jaw works. 
Here is a secret, among the many Percival keeps close to his chest: he has never been good at reading people. 
Would you, if you could slip into the minds of others? If you could find the truth of their words behind their marks, even when you did not want it? How often the mouth has disagreed with the mind - Percy has learned not to trust the theater that plays out on the face. Had tried to find the skill, again, as he finally found control of his abilities, but - well. 
Without the contact of his curious mind, he has no idea what Vex is thinking, what she is feeling. He strives to keep it that way.
“I do.” Vex sighs, and Percy can’t tell if she regrets this or confesses it to him, quietly, so her brother will not here. “Actually - why not take a look, darling?”
He balks. “I - what?”
She has both arms braced against him, and strains on her tiptoes - otherwise, he knows, she would tap her temple with a finger. “Yep. You don’t believe me - so. Read my mind, Percy.”
“Are you sure,” he strains to say, “that’s alltogether safe?” 
He’s not stupid, nor blind - he knows he has been a rolling thunderstorm, dark clouds billowing off him, ribbed with red lightning. Can feel it, still, under his gloves - sparks jumping from skin to leather to skin and curling around the cuticles of his fingers.
“No,” she admits with a huff. “But I am worried, Percy. We all are - and if you can’t trust us to have your back, can’t feel safe enough to be honest…” Vex trails off, biting her lip, and he can’t help but follow the movement. She catches his eyes as they return to hers, and he thinks there might be something a bit smug. “I trust you. And I’d like to make that clear, before we face more of your demons.”
“Your brother does not trust me.”
“And I’m Vex, not Vax,” she snips back. Smiles. “Besides - I have nothing to hide, darling.”
Percy can’t read people - hasn’t needed to - but he knows a blatant lie when he sees one. 
[Send me a spell and I'll write a ficlet/snippet to go with it!]
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thefirstpaleontologist · 2 years ago
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The Boys s3e8 spoilers
okay on the one hand
I’m very proud of Hughie for reconciling with Annie.
He finally realised his true strength doesn’t come from tempV and having superpowers.
This episode reiterated that Annie doesn’t need saving, but she did need help. That she doesn’t need Hughie to save her, she just needs him. And finally we see Hughie realise that and deliver in the scene where instead of taking tempV and giving himself brain damage, he chooses to up the lights and supply Annie with more power.
It calls back to every moment Hughie has used his intelligence and tech skills to assist The Boys as he has been doing since the start.
Beyond this we the audience also know that Hughies real power in The Boys is his empathy. His people skills. His commitment to treating supes like people and everyone with decency. The fact he was delegated to evacuate the tower and therefore in charge of minimising civilian casualties is definitely tied into this.
but on the other hand
I was really enjoying angry fucked up Hughie 😭
low key wanted him to have a bit of a villain arc
Hughie deserved another chance to fight homelander. I know that that’s Butchers fight but still. Guess I’ll just have to go rewatch herogasm
does this mean we’ll never get to see Hughie teleport with Homelander or Soldier Boy or Butcher? 💀 I know it would have contributed nothing to the plot but it would have been so funny
but fr Hughie deserves to be angry with everything that’s happened. If s4 decides to have a plot line dedicated to Victoria Neuman then I really think Hughie will be front and centre to it. He worked with her for a year. He thought they were friends. So he’s definitely gonna have a bone to pick with her
Okay other than that
in season 4 I have some predictions of stuff we’ll get to see or that I would just like to see:
Hughies apologised to Annie for going low-key insane with power but he’ll prob need to repair his relationships with Kimiko, Frenchie and MM. there wasn’t really any time for in ep8 but I think it’s important to show these bonds being mended
we need to see Hughie and Kimiko have some kind of reconciliation. I know kimiko really doesn’t seemed fussed over nearly dying etc but Hughie definitely needs to realise that being on a power trip and ignoring her bleeding out in the back of the van was fucked up.
butcher and Hughie definitely need to sit down and talk. so many issues. butcher seeing Hughie as being like Lenny is sweet but kinda unhealthy. Hughie isn’t Lenny and that kind of expectation for him to live up to will create problems whenever he falls short of it
Hughie talked more about his mum this season and I really want to know why she left and get some more back story
I think I’m s4 we will end up with A-Train finally defecting from vaught and homelander. Like officially. All the dominoes are already there in place (his brother giving him a wake up call, the way homelander treats him etc)
Fully expecting the Deep to full on loose it. He’s on his own except for homelander now who obviously doesn’t care about him at all. would be surprised if he ends up dead next season either through his own self destructive behaviour or at homelanders hand
Homelander now knows he can get away with murdering an innocent civilian in broad day light in front of a crowd of people and not only face no repercussions but literally be cheered on so I just know he’s going to be completely unbearable now
It’ll be interesting to see Victoria Neuman juggle her reputation and VP claim to protect everyone regardless of political opinions alongside her deal with Homelander who has shown himself to have zero guilt over killing his political opposition
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inkyblinders · 4 years ago
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Dancing with the Devil: Part II
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Part 1
Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader
Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.
The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!
Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)
Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing
Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed
@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan
_____________________________________________________________
You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.
When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.
How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.
“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.
“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.
His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.
Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.
Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.
It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.
You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.
“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.
His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.
“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.
He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”
Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.
“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.
With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.
“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”
“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.
He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.
Yes, you urge him, come on, now.
And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.
“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.
It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.
“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.
“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.
In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”
You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.
****
Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.
“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.
“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”
The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.
It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.
****
“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.
“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”
“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.
It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.
You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.
“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.
“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.
Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.
“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.
“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.
“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”
“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.
“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.
“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”
“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.
“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”
Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?
“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.
“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.
“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”
You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.
“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.
“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.
“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.
“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”
You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.
To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.
There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.
“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”
“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”
*****
You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.
Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.
“Was it good, then?”
A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.
“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.
“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”
You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”
“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.
“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”
“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”
You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”
“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”
“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”
The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.
“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”
The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.
“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”
He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.
You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.
“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”
A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.
But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.
“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.
“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”
“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”
He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.
You don't look back to see if he follows.
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ehhgg-art · 3 years ago
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hey. asian person here to talk about behavior in the mcyttwt community.
the way you treat minorities’ problems is sickening. at this point, i don’t even want your “support”. the way you go about it makes all our efforts look like damn jokes. here’s only a few examples, but i know there are much, much more.
now before we go on, this excludes those who decide not to share about social issues and topics relating to such. that is an internet boundary that should be respected. on the other hand, the people who harass others about “being educated, the people this post is directed at, need to be talked to.
do you think i don’t remember what you guys did after the atlanta shooting? huh? what the fuck was that? my people were dying, and y’all trended an insensitive ass tag. and yet, the moment a cc says something dumb about asian people, its all “oh asians drop your cashapps and donation links” and “asian support thread”. our problems do not amount to an insensitive joke. do NOT diminish us to such. this applies to the techno situation too.
speaking of techno, i won’t forgive y’all for how you reacted. you jumped on him for insensitive jokes and claimed that he was endangering multiple communities. sure, hold him accountable, but your actions could have put his entire family in danger. at this point, don’t even ask for a damn apology. and just like the last point, when it came to actually supporting those groups that were “so hurt” by a tweet, there was close to nothing comapared to the effort y’all put into “educating” a minecraft youtuber. oh, and also don’t forget how you treated his adhd with so fucking little respect compared to dream’s. whenever dream does a fuck up and doesn’t talk about it for a while, you say “oh its his adhd”. you don’t get to pick and choose who’s conditions to respect. you respect all of them, with the same amount and effort as the other.
how about the recent dream situation then? yeah, that was also not cool. not because of how y’all reacted towards him, but towards the black community. i know damn well that if he wasn’t involved that black people’s voices wouldn’t have been uplifted nor listened to. i know because it happens to me too (although my experience as a south asian is different from a black person, but your treatment of us is very similar). 
now it all leads up to tommyinnit. i see people saying “don’t treat minorities like drama” and “minorities aren’t twitter posts” as a response to him leaving the app. and that is bullshit coming from y’all. the way that you treated my community and many others like trends. the way that you swept us under the rug when it didn’t pertain to your “streamer” anymore. a lot of y’all are throwing out criticism that you yourself should be heeding.
it’s gross to see how you all acted around this. after the way you’ve treated my people and many others, you have the gall to tear down this literal child, drag him through the mud for TWO DAMN DAYS. 
all this and i still haven’t mentioned how you treated palestine, jewish people, lgbt people, psychotics, latinos, and many other marginalized groups. 
my struggles do not amount to a social media post. my life is not twitter drama. my PEOPLE are not trends. your support for communities isn’t a trophy, it’s not a reward, it’s not some revolting “validation”. its basic human decency. and you are lacking it. you’re not a savior, you’re not a hero. you’re a goddamn insult.
do what you expect from others.
do better.
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Tag Yourself - Things You Can’t Help But Do When Your Lover Makes Love To You - Part 5 – Cyrille Lestrange
You just can’t help yourself when he’s touching you like that, can you?
[Warning: Dominant-Submissive Dynamics.] [Warning: BDSM Dynamics - Spanking, Bondage.] [Warning: Use of Derogatory Phrases.] [Warning: Nonconsent.]
*Cyrille Lestrange is an OC.
*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!   
When Cyrille Lestrange makes love to you, you can’t help but be a brat.
It’s never intentional.
No, no, you shake your head with utmost genuineness. I would never, Cy. Only good girl for you.
You can’t help it. It’s instinct to lean over and stick out your ass for Cyrille to spank you, and then, when Cyrille lifts his hand - to quickly jolt your hips forward, making Cyrille miss your little rump.
“Angel,” he growls.
“Sorry, sorry.” You center yourself again. You grit your teeth and – whoosh – Cyrille’s hand flies by you again as you just turn your hips to the side.
“That’s it.” Cyrille gets up and ties another ribbon around your thighs, looping it around you so that his fingers just barely graze against your pussy as he passes the rope between your legs.
“Ah…” you breathe out. You wiggle your hips a little, indicating that you want Cyrille to forget about this silly tying-you-up thing and just touch you already.
But he growls at you, “Be still” in a voice that not only makes your pussy wet, but also makes you obey him.
Finally, tied to your proper place by silk ribbons, Cyrille spanks you – smack! – “OW!”
It’s only when your ass is blushing a bright pink and you have tears in your eyes that Cyrille finally touches you between your legs. But when he does – it’s heavenly, and the ribbons wrapped around your throat and body and the tingling all over your ass heightens the feeling of his touching you. Your entire body is singing aloud, alive and stinging and humming with the knowledge that you’re his.
And when Cyrille means to punish you by making you sit on his lap and warm his cock without moving for over an hour, it’s only natural for you to start to squirm – isn’t it?
“Angel,” Cyrille warns you. “Cock sleeves don’t squirm.” He arches his eyebrow at you as he whispers darkly in your ear, “You want to be a cock sleeve or a cumslut?”
What’s the difference? You wonder to yourself as you put your hands in your lap and try to stay still.
Only, you swear Cyrille is growing bigger inside of you and you simply can’t resist it anymore. Abandoning all pretense, you put your hands on the desk in front of you and you start bouncing away on him.
“Princess, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Um, you said to s-stay in your lap, ‘member? And uh, I just – ah – am thinking of ways to entertain m-myself…”
Cyrille sighs. He reaches over you and grasps your chin and makes you look over your shoulder at him. With his other hand, he gently pushes your hair away from your face so he can look up at you and see your cute expression, the way your eyes have already gone all dreamy as you make use of Cyrille, make good use of his cock inside of you…
“I believe I told you to be still,” Cyrille reminds you.
“I – I am. I’m not walking away or anything,” you mumble back. Then, closing your eyes, you moan out rather lewdly, without holding back at all.
“Don’t even have the decency to try to hide your pleasure,” Cyrille mutters. “I guess you’re choosing cumslut then.”
You’re not really hearing him anymore, but you nod pleasantly, agreeing with him out of instinct.
It shocks you, then, when Cyrille suddenly picks you up and drops you onto the table.
“W-What?” you breath out, heart thundering as you look up at him.
Cyrille smirks at you. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He quickly coaxes your legs apart. He asks you, ”What’s your safe word?”
“Um. Raven – but why - ? Ah!” you gasp out, as Cyrille proceeds to push your panties to the side, and then slam his cock inside your tight pussy.
When you cry out loudly, Cyrille reminds you, “You asked to be my cumslut.”
“I – I did? When?” you bleat out, grasping desperately at the edge of the table as Cyrille makes you take his cock in your pretty little pussy.
“Just now.” Cyrille pauses, letting you adjust to him and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek to remind you that his priority is still to keep you safe and happy. “Am I hurting you?”
“No!”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, Cy, p-please keep going!”
“Then tell me you’re my cumslut.”
You blink furiously. “I’m a – a what?”
“A cumslut, Angel. Is it hard for you to learn new words when my cock is inside you?”
You can only whimper. But you have enough sense in you to reach down and grab Cyrille’s hips, and you try to tug him back-and-forth, needing him to move inside you.
Cyrille laughs lightly. “What are you doing, Angel?” Reaching down, he grasps both of your wrists in his hands and then, leaning over you, he pins your hands hard against the tabletop. “Tell me you’re my cumslut, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Your eyes get all misty, and your pussy’s all aching and wet, and so you bleat out pitifully, “I – I’m your, um… cumslut.”
“Good girl,” Cyrille praises you. Then, standing up straight again, he proceeds to pound your little pussy to your heart’s desire, making you cry out all night and limp tomorrow morning.    
And oh yes, when Cyrille tries to choke you lightly when he kisses you, you do him the favor of biting his lip back. It’s just a favor.
“Fuck,” Cyrille growls lowly when he feels your little teeth sinking into his lower lip. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Huh?” You pull away, startled by the mere thought that you might have done anything wrong.
“You’re biting me.”
You snort at this. “You do all sorts of stuff to me. Why shouldn’t I bite you? I’m still the tame one, between the two of us.”
Cyrille sighs. “You’re not supposed to be the tame one. You’re supposed to be the tamed one. Do I have to teach you the difference?”
You eye him suspiciously. “Are you going to bring me a dictionary?”
Cyrille reaches up and grasps your face in his hand. “What a smart mouth you have, princess.”
Stubbornly, you reply, “It comes from a smart brain.”
“Then,” Cyrille responds silkily, “you should be able to learn without a dictionary.”
Five minutes later, Cyrille has tied you all up in ribbons – at your request, mind you – only, you somehow end up remarking (providing a kind-of social commentary, if you will) on the quirkiness of the kink.
“So you like this, Cyrille? You like seeing me all wrapped up in ribbons?”
Cyrille nods once.
You muse, “Oh… So what is it about it? Is it because I look like a present now? Or… is it because the ribbons are all shiny, in contrast to my body? What does that mean, d’you think, if you like seeing me all tied up in something shiny?”
At this, Cyrille remarks wryly, “I didn’t realize you were so interested in psychology.”
“Oh.” You frown. But then, you cheer yourself up by saying, “Well, my strong point has always been my curiosity. It makes me smart.”
Cyrille’s eyes narrow. “It makes you a brat.”
When you look offended, Cyrille sighs. “I’m supposed to be enjoying you in those ribbons, and we’re simply sitting here talking about it.”
“Well, then, why aren’t you enjoying me?” you fire back. “Aren’t you the dominant? Seems like that’s your shortcoming, not mine.”
And with that, Cyrille proceeds to prove to you exactly how he is the dominant: yanking at the ribbons and making them tighter the closer you get to cumming, until your toes are curled up so tight because of the electricity running all over your body, but you can’t even feel your toes anymore; gripping at your hair and tugging your head back while he bites your neck and chest all over, making you moan and squirm, and then, when he has you looking up far enough that you can’t see what he’s doing, he slaps your pussy hard, and you cry out loudly, as your little cunt turns all pink and wet from his harsh touch; and then, you finally cum for him, he stuffs the silky ribbon into your mouth and then kisses you and chokes you so that you can’t breathe – you can’t – you can’t - !
“There you go,” you hear Cyrille whisper softly amidst your intense daze. “Now you’ve found your proper place.”
Your entire body is drooping, kept up only by the silk ribbons crisscrossing your entire body, and cum is streaming down your thighs – both his and yours.
“You make it very difficult to tame you, but once I do, you’re a perfect submissive,” Cyrille tells you in his lovely, silvery voice. “And I know, deep inside, you want to be tamed. You want to be made into a good girl, an angel, my Angel, don’t you?”
You nodded tearily. His words make both your heart and your pussy ache, but in such a good way. Because you love being his, you love being taken like this. And the reciprocal side is that he’s yours, too. You know he is.
“That’s right,” Cyrille continues. His voice becomes softer, falling from a dominant praising his submissive to just him praising you. “That’s why I forgive you for being such a brat. Because I know you’re my angel inside.”
“Yes,” you whisper. “A-Always, Cy.”
With that, Cyrille’s mouth captures yours in the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable, as he begins the slow, loving process of bringing you back down to earth.
And when you softly bite him back – biting down on his lower lip, Cyrille realizes that you have learned absolutely nothing about being a submissive from this encounter, and he sighs and smiles to himself, giving into and actually quite pleased with the fact that you will never actually be tamed – by him or by anyone else.
She’s the real dominant, he thinks, and I’m completely in love with her. Bite my lip all you want, Angel. I reckon that’s what it’s there for.
Tagged User(s): @saltstacks
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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago
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Fight For This Love ~ KNJ [Request]
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WORD COUNT:2.1k
GENRE: Slice of life, angst with fluffy ending, family AU, father Namjoon
PAIRING: Namjoon x Fem!Reader
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It had been a while since you and Namjoon had spent any alone time together but you put that down to him being busy all of the time, you knew what it was going to be like when you married him but it didn't mean you were happy about it. Namjoon still worked just as hard as he did when he first debuted and so did the rest of the boys only now since they had their only lives and marriages to maintain they worked from home.
"Where's dad?" Your daughter asked you as you laid her down in her bed for the night, she was dressed in her pyjamas ready to head to bed but it was Namjoon's night to read to her only he was locked up in his home studio and had been for most of the day. It had rained for most of the day so your plan to take Choo-Hee out to the park was ruined and you were forced into having a day in instead much to Namjoon's dismay.
"He's busy baby, what do you want me to read to you tonight?" You whispered as you tried to get her to go to sleep but you knew she wouldn't without her father, at five-years-old she wasn't stupid and she knew the routine that you and Namjoon had. It was her fathers night to read to her and she'd been looking forward to it all day.
"Daddy always does the voices, you can't do them." She pouted as she folded her arms across her chest, ready to go into a full meltdown but the door to Namjoon's studio opened across from her room. It was the first time you'd heard him move all day but you knew he had been since the food you'd left for him earlier had disappeared from outside the door.
"Babe?!" You called out just before he could walk away, you heard him let out a loud sigh before coming into the room with the fakest smile you'd ever seen plastered across his face. You resisted the urge to call him out on the fake smile knowing that he was probably just exhausted and you smiled over at him,
"Choo-Hee wants you to read to her...It's your night," Your voice calm out sweet and calm as you tried to gently remind him what the date was but he didn't look impressed. The boys were stressing him out about songs and he was even more behind than he usually was but he nodded his head and sat down beside your daughter. 
"Which book?" You heard him ask her happily as you got up from the floor and went to make you and Namjoon a hot drink so he could keep it in his studio with him for the night if he was going to keep working in there.
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As you stood making the drink you heard the stairs creak as Namjoon made his way downstairs, grunting out as he collapsed onto the sofa. It felt as though he'd been awake for a week straight without a moment of rest, all he wanted to do was fall asleep on the sofa.
"Tea?" You asked as you poked your head in the doorway to see that he was drifting off to sleep on the sofa, his eyes fighting to stay open as he grumbled something to himself. The sight of him working himself like this broke your heart so you walked over to him and gently shook his arm. You hadn't seen him this way in years and it was starting to hurt you, 
"Baby...Come up to bed. I can-" You stopped speaking when Namjoon rolled over and mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't hear him.
"You're being so grumpy, move over so I can cuddle you," You giggled playfully, if he wasn't going to go up to the bedroom you could at least spend time with him right now but he didn't move an inch. He just grumbled into the pillow with his back to you, 
"I don't wanna cuddle right now," You frowned as you looked at the back of him, poking his back gently as you thought he was just joking. 
"Babe come on...I've missed you," You tried to plead with him but he didn't move only mumbling into the sofa cushions once again instead of making eye contact with you. 
"Stop, alright just leave me alone for five minutes," His yell was muffled by the pillows but you didn't want to leave it like this. There was clearly something that was bothering him and you wanted to be the good wife and find out what it was. 
"Do you want a hot drink? We can sit and talk about it...Maybe some food..." You suggested to him, the more you thought about it the more you couldn't remember if he'd eaten dinner and just lunch that day. 
"I don't want food or a hot drink. I want to be left alone," He was facing you now, red in the face with anger as he was getting more annoyed at you for persisting him. Sighing to himself he rubbed his face with his hands, sitting up and trying to calm himself down.
"I'm just having a bad day and I just want to be alone." He looked at you hoping that you would take the hint and leave but your hand reached out for his once again, 
"We can cuddle and talk-" You didn't even have time to finish what you were going to say when he snapped at you, moving away from you and going towards the stairs/
"Fuck you're so clingy! You're bugging me so much! What part of leaving me alone don't you fucking understand?!" The front door slammed shut you sat there for a couple of seconds waiting for it to open again and for him to walk back in and say sorry but it never happened. All you heard was the faint sound of the car starting and pulling out onto the road before you got up from the table trying not to cry. 
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The next morning in the house it was completely silent, you'd woken up Choo-Hee and taken her out for breakfast not asking Namjoon if he wanted anything. He'd snuck back into the house later in the night last night thinking you were asleep but you weren't, you hadn't been able to sleep the whole night but Nmajoon locked himself in his studio. Sleeping on the sofa that was inside of there instead of having the human decency to come and apologise to you. Deciding it would be for the best you gave him the space he wanted yesterday, choosing to leave him be and let him get on with without it was that was getting him so stressed out.
"You and dad have been quiet all day," Choo said as she poured you a fake cup of imaginary tea. The day had been long and quiet, the two of you playing dress up, going for a walk before watching a movie together but now she was having a tea party with you and her imaginary friends. 
"Well, your dad is busy...Isn't that right, Holo?" You asked her imaginary friend as you passed him a plate of fake biscuits trying to do your best to play into the role your daughter was giving you. 
"Holo said daddy was yelling last night," You bit down on your lip at the thought of Choo hearing Namjoon the night before. When the two of you found out you were expecting you made a deal never to fight in front of the child but clearly that had failed. 
"He was just upset at work," You lied as you cupped her face in your hands and smiled weakly as you heard the door to Namjoon's studio open and shut. 
"I'm going to take a shower...Will you be a good girl and watch something with Holo?" You questioned as you got up from the small make-believe table and she nodded. The door to the living room slowly opened but you didn't look in Namjoon's direction, you just headed up the stairs for the bathroom without a word leaving him and his daughter alone. 
"Hey, daddy?" Choo called out as she began packing up all of her toys into her toy-chest, Namjoon smiled at her and knelt down. 
"Yes pumpkin, what can I do for you?" He began placing things into the toy-chest with her when she smiled at him, 
"Can we make the best fort ever? With pillows and lights and a movie?" She called out excitedly to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she stared up at him with puppy dog eyes. Namjoon could never resist them as he stared back at her, 
"Fine, fine, fine. Go and get all the blankets from your room." He chuckled watching as she began sprinting up the staircase to her bedroom while he went to get string and push pins to help build the fort for her.
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By the time you were out of the shower and dressed there was an envelope sitting on your bed with your daughter's handwriting on the front. Giggling to yourself you opened it to see an invitation inside,
Hi Mum,
Fort in the living room, dress fancy, movie night with snacks! I'm inside with our favs
From, Choo-Hee
Though there were some minor spelling mistakes she'd written it all perfectly so you smiled to yourself, changing into a Lucuna, Balloon-sleeve Floral Chiffon Dress that came down to your thighs and headed down the stairs to meet your daughter. The living room was dark but you could see some fairy lights poking out through the gaps in the fort you assumed Namjoon had helped Choo build. You got down onto your hands and knees and crawled into the fort,
"What movie did you pick baby-" You stopped speaking when Namjoon turned to look at you with a surprised look on his face. 
"Choo?" You called out when you heard some music beginning to play in the background, it was one of the boy's earlier CD's and you and Namjoon stared at Choo as she walked into the fort with a small tray in her hands.
"Dinner for two." She announced, placing the tray onto the floor in front of you before leaving without answering any of your questions that you and Namjoon had for her.
"Young lady!" You called out but you turned around and poked her tongue out at you before heading up the stairs to bed, you turned back to Namjoon and smiled weakly.
"I guess she trapped us," He laughed awkwardly while looking at you and then down at the tray that was in front of you both. 
The two of you stayed silent for a couple of moments before you couldn't take it anymore and shook your head, 
"I wonder what she made," You looked at him and then to the tray as you lifted the lid from a small plate. Sitting there was a pile of smarties, a slice of bread with a slab of butter on and a small mint for afterwards.
"Joonie I think she gets her cooking skills from you," You teased as you began to giggle to yourself at the sight of the plate. Namjoon joining in as he laughed along with you. 
"Hey...work has just been stressing me out and I shouldn't have taken it out on you..." He said once you both stopped laughing, you smiled weakly as you reached forward to take the smarties off the plate and placed one on his tongue,
"I'm sorry," He whispered as he took your hands in his and made you look at him, he had a pained look on his face as he thought about what he had said to you the night before. He'd never meant for it to be like that and he never meant it,
"In the words of our beautiful daughter...I was being a big grumpy bear and I shouldn't have been so naughty." You giggled at him and shook your head, leaning forward to place a small and gentle kiss on his lips. 
"It's fine baby...I should have left you alone when you said it the first time," He shifted in place so that his back was leaning against the sofa and he could pull you into a tight embrace, kissing your shoulder as he apologised over and over again for what he had said. You both stayed inside the fort until you eventually fell asleep in one another's arm's, deciding not to move for the night since the fort was so comfortable already.
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Tagline: @lyoongx @sw33tnight @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @innersooya @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @that-anxious-bisexual​
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crawsley · 3 years ago
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PLEASE talk to me about Jamie NOTICING Trevor in his girlie little ankle baring leggings. They're a light colour, too, I bet you can see when his pussy gets all wet and Jamie is all 😍😛
It's not like Jamie's trying to stare at Trevor like a pervert, but it's kind of hard to avoid when he's wearing the cute little leggings he bought recently. Jamie's not sure where he gets them, like it can't be from the same omega section Jamie buys his from, right? Like, they look similar to his, superficially. But there's no way that Jamie's leggings cling quite so tightly to his hips, or outline both his cock and his pussy in semi-sheer fabric the way Trevor's always seem to.
Jamie has various cock-related woes that make at least two layers of coverage necessary for public decency, which might be the norm for alphas but very much isn't for omegas, so he has to pay attention to this stuff. He's always been a tomboy, too, even before he figured out he was a lesbian. Never super interested in dressing girly, even though he likes it when other omegas do.
Trevor doesn't even wear shorts over top of his leggings, like any proper omega would. Trevor isn't proper in literally any sense of the word but he does have weird bursts of prudery, that generally manifest themselves via him stringing some poor alpha along for a couple months, pretending at courtship.
Jamie doesn't know for sure, but he's almost positive that Trevor's way too much of a slut for that to work, in the short or long term. And he's continually proven right when Trevor breaks it off with whoever he's with about three months in, when questions about spending heats together start to get more pressing.
But, Jamie thinks, eyes on Trevor's ass in his little leggings, recently it's almost seemed like Trevor's been, hm. Jamie can't articulate it to himself even in his own mind but Trevor's been acting differently towards him.
Flirtier, for one thing.
Jamie wouldn't have thought it was possible before the past couple weeks, but Trevor's been hanging all over him, climbing into his lap and cuddling down into him like a complete tart. Wearing fewer and fewer clothes when they're sharing a hotel room, and staying naked and in Jamie's face basically the entire time they're in the locker room together.
And it's not like Trevor doesn't know Jamie's only interested in other omegas, like Jamie'd come out to him a couple months into the last season, when covid restrictions finally loosened up enough for Jamie to bring someone home to the little apartment they shared with two other rookies. The situation had been getting kind of dire, and Jamie'd found himself eyeing Trevor speculatively, which, when you're considering fucking your straight teammate, it's a sign it's time to get laid.
They're the only two left in the game of knockout, most of the other guys having either gotten bored and left, or been knocked out, but Trevor's sneaky good and extremely competitive. He has his tongue poking out between his teeth, fully concentrating on the game, but at the same time. He's bending over way further than he technically needs to to pick up the ball, and every time he does, he flashes Jamie just a hint of pussy, outlined perfectly through his leggings. It's hot as hell and Jamie's having a hard time making his shots, because all he can think about is how much he wants to put his face in that.
Jamie's a pussyhound, he'll admit it. No shame in the game.
By some miracle Jamie beats Trevor, knocks him out, and Trevor's pouting and complaining like hell but he's also coming in close, and looping his arms around Jamie's neck.
The move probably works better on alphas who are taller than Trevor, but it's still nice being this close to him.
Trevor's tits feel pretty nice pressed up against Jamie's, too.
"Well you won, huh," Trevor says, voice breathier than usual, even though he still looks kind of annoyed at having lost. "Does that mean you get to choose your prize?"
"I don't know about a prize," Jamie says, slowly, but Trevor just laughs and snuggles his face in close to Jamie's neck. He'd be scenting him for sure if he were actually interested in Jamie, but this is just like. Probably some fucked up NTDP-style bonding honestly.
"You won me Jim," Trevor says, mouth moving against Jamie's skin in a way that makes his cock twitch. He really needs to get laid. "You get to do what you want to me now, right?"
If Jamie didn't know better, he'd swear that he could smell Trevor getting wet. But that isn't possible, is it? As far as Jamie knows, as far as Trevor has told him, Trevor isn't even interested in omegas. Like, he'd said those words to Jamie, explicitly.
Jamie's annoyed all of a sudden. He's a lot of things, but one thing he isn't is down to be a straight girl's experiment, especially when that straight girl is the goddamn future face of his franchise.
So can you really blame him if he grabs Trevor's ass, rough enough that he squeaks and rocks forward on his toes? It just presses his tits tighter against Jamie, so he isn't complaining.
"Whatever I want," Jamie says, not a question, and gropes Trevor again just to hear him make that noise again. This time he gets some pussy when he grabs his ass, and Trevor straight up moans, loud and surprised.
"What I want," Jamie says, tucking his mouth in close to Trevor's temple, and feels him shiver in Jamie's arms. "Is to go get ready for our game tonight."
Jamie can feel Trevor opening his mouth to argue, say something annoying, Jamie just knows, so he does the only thing he can think of and smacks his ass. Hard.
Trevor moans again, even more shocked than before, and his eyes are wide when Jamie gently shoves him away.
Jamie grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, so he's pointing in the direction of the locker rooms, and smacks his ass again. Both to get Trevor moving and because he kind of can't help it.
"Go on, get," Jamie says, and Trevor does what he's told for once in his life, floating towards the locker room like he's in a haze.
Jamie lets himself wallow in his own smugness for like half a second before he follows, tugging at his shorts a little. Trevor isn't the only one who was affected by whatever the hell just happened.
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jimlingss · 4 years ago
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Moirai [1]
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2
➜ Words: 5.8k
➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU
➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.
➜ Notes: Isekai is a popular manga and light novel genre in which characters from Earth are transported into a new world.
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This is the end.   “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”   The Prince stands tall, the very furrow of his brows jarring against the cold, cordial expression he maintains — the one she had always tried to shatter. All she desired was something other than courtesy. If not affection then frustration or misery. But she supposes that anger suffices.   Anger. The first time he’s ever looked at her with an ounce of any true feeling.   His shadow looms over her, his status powerful as the countless eyes are narrowed in around her — he is as powerful as the people who stand behind him. Every word he speaks booms through the ballroom, a grand timbre that has long replaced the mellifluous violins.    The Prince is as noble as he is righteous. He is the hero of this story.   “You choose to answer your crimes with silence?!”   The corner of her lips curl and cackles rasp from her throat. The noise is discordant and shrill, a mocking irony when it causes him to pull the woman in his arms closer. Even when she’s in this position, downcast head, knees burnt on the carpet, all she does is drive them closer together.   “The only sins I have ever committed was loving you until my last breath.”   “Guards!”   Murmurs spark across the room and the knights armour clank as they approach in heavy steps. She knows these are the last moments. “The only crime I have is looking out for the empire! But you chose her.” She looks upon the girl he holds, the one who has the same contempt on her visage. And as the knights rip her away from her place, she spits venom-laced words, “A lowly baron’s adopted daughter to make your wife. I am the duke’s daughter. I am educated. I am your fiancée—”   “No longer.” He condemns, “You have committed treason. Conspiracy against the crown. Attempted murder. Forgery. Harassment. Using your status to oppress the vulnerable—”   “Let go of me!” she shrieks as the guards drag her down the room. It’s undignified. Degrading.   “—Daring to entangle yourself with the dark arts. And you will answer to these crimes whether you choose to confess or not.”    “Let go of me!” she struggles, yet no one chooses to hear.    Their eyes have pierced into her, those who aren’t scandalized are snickering behind their feathered fans. But in the last seconds, status has no place. She looks to the person who matters most, the one she had spent her childhood idolizing. Her beliefs hold true. He will make a great ruler.   But she will never be the one to stand beside him. She knows now.   That position has long been stolen away from her.   “Everything I did,” she cries, “I did for yo—”   The grand doors slam shut with her pitched screams resounding.    Moments later, the lively music continues, violins and trumpets crescendoing to life once more. As if her life had just not been taken away from her. As if the denunciation was merely an intermission of tonight’s festivities.   Her heinous exterior is shattered by tears that no one would have sympathy for. She is limp when she is thrown into the stone jail cell within the depths of the castle. The knights twist on their heel and she is surrounded in pitch darkness with the sound of a scurrying rat echoing beside her.   The only time there is light is by the dim flame of the torch, a guard accompanying a frightened servant who carries a bowl of spoiled oats. It’s not enough to satisfy the grumble of her stomach, but enough to keep her alive for the execution day. Without a silver fork or spoon in hand, a handkerchief placed in her lap, seated by a candlelit table, she resorts to using her fingers to scoop the food into her mouth.   Sometimes, she thinks they forget about her.   Or perhaps time is simply drawn in darkness. A second made into a minute. A minute is an hour. She is merely left leaning against the molded stone, wasted away and drunk on memories of better places.   Punishment does not come in the form of her stripped title or even her head rolling away from her neck. Punishment arrives in the darkened loneliness. That loss of sanity that whisper she has failed to capture the attention of the only person she ever loved. That she failed to make him love her.   Everything she did, it drove him away.   Every act of love placed distance between them.   Everything.   Liberation comes back with the music of trumpets muffled by the stone walls. “What’s going on?” her voice is hoarse through her parched throat. The servant screams when her arm reaches past the bars to tug on the girl’s dress. Her eyes are bleary as she looks up at the girl. “Why is it so noisy?”   “T-The civil war’s over.” The girl backs away and the celebrations become more distinct with the realization. “The villain is dead.”   The girl withdraws into the cell and cackles rip through her lungs, resounding across the empty chambers. The servant scurries away as the knight huffs out through his nose and shakes his head. But it’s the best news she’s received since she’s been stowed away.    And a smile still graces her features when she is dragged out and jostled by the knights, taken up to where the sun blinds her vision.   “On the eve of the Solar Festival, we rid our empire of yet another villain and free it from treachery!”   There are cacophonous cheers in the crowd. Her eyes are hurt by the sunlight and she shuts them tight. Her legs are kicked and she’s knocked onto her knees, head being shoved against wood. She wishes she didn’t have to face the sun rays. There’s no decency to give her shade.   But the discomfort is over by the blade slicing through the air. She lives and both dies as the villainess — an inevitable legacy.            ❇ End of Royal Romances Chapter 7 -Prince Route- ❇
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Headbeams.   Fuck.   You never thought it would be like all those cheesy movies — the third Batman film, Grey’s Anatomy, the Simpsons, hell even Attack on Titan. But nope. They’re right. Time really does slow and your life really does flash by your eyes when you’re in the moment of your death.    But instead of feeling grief for yourself, all you can think about is what an absolute idiot you are.   You really shouldn’t have jaywalked at night. That cheesecake in the fridge was supposed to be yours! And holy shit, your parents are going to be really fucking mad that you died at only twenty—   The truck slams into you before you can finish your thought.   …………... ……….. ……. ….. ... .. .   Strangely, it doesn’t hurt. Maybe because it happened so fast. Maybe the initial impact was already enough to end your life. But you’re left feeling an empty void inside of yourself. An overwhelming agony that this is the end. That you never got the chance to fulfill your dreams, enjoy the fruits of your labour, that you never got to reach the happiness you wanted.   You have regrets.   Not for the things that you did. But for the things that you didn’t do.   But well….you suppose there’s no use in lingering in it.   Death is the end.   This is the end.   ……. ….. ... .. .   “—ook...t ...er...!”   “..hush!”   What?   Why are you hearing noises? Why does your face feel warm?   Are you in...heaven? Some sort of afterlife?! Oh man, you knew you deserved this! Fuck yes! You might have kicked that kid’s shin in the fourth grade and totally lied to your manager that one time that you cleaned the ice-cream machine when you didn’t, but your wrongdoings aren’t that bad.   You open your eyes.   Unusually, your vision is blurred. All you can make out is a fuzzy figure looming over you.   Your mouth opens—   “Waah!”   What the fuck. You can’t speak. Each time your lips part, drool dripples onto your chin.   In a panic, you try to move your body, but quickly find yourself heavy and practically stuck. You cry out and swing your arm, and that’s when your hand flashes before your eyes.   Your pupils focus and you realize that your hand is tiny. That you can barely curl and uncurl your fingers together. Holy shit. Holy fuck—   You’re a baby.   Wailing sobs burst out of your tiny lungs.    You don’t know where you are or how this happened. Your last memory is being hit by a truck!   The figure looming above you comes closer. “What is wrong with her?!”   The woman sounds annoyed, but it’s not like it's your fault. This is just a lot to take in.   Your mouth is blocked by a pacifier being shoved in. Immediately, you spit it out and the woman sighs. “Why is she being so fussy?”   That’s not the issue, lady! Christ, you wish you could communicate with her.   You feel yourself being picked up and she angrily mutters, “If the Devereux household wasn’t paying me so much, I would’ve just thrown you out the window.”   Wait. Say what now? Devereux?    Why does that sound so familiar?   You hear another woman’s voice, one that’s higher pitched and softer. “What’s wrong with little Anastasia?”   “Have you finished hanging the laundry yet?”   “Yes, I have.” You’re being passed on and your sobs subside in favour of a frown. Anastasia?   Anastasia Devereux.   You remember cursing that name out loud before, but where was—   Oh my god. Oh my god! It’s impossible, but the truth is right in front of your eyes. You’re living through it right now. This isn’t a dream. No. It’s your game, Royal Romances.    You’ve been reincarnated into the fictional country of Ashea. And of all people, you’ve been reborn as the villainess, Anastasia Devereux.   You burst out crying again.   //   A man in a coat and frilly shirt enters the room. Your head adjusts to see through the wooden bars of your bassinet, vision becoming clearer by the day. You know who he is without an announcement.   Your father. At least he’s supposed to be.   “How is the child?” he asks the maid.   “She is healthy, your grace. She may be a bit fussy at times, but she sleeps and eats well.”   He hums and leaves shortly after, never once coming to personally see or even hug you.    What an asshole. This entire world is fucked. You’re fucked.   Royal Romances is a love story game between a heroine and several potential matches depending on the route you take. Yet in every route, the main protagonist's rival, the Marquess and the Crown Prince’s fiancée, ends up co-conspiring with the villain and dies because of his crimes. Or exiled. Two options.   And you’ve taken her place.   But now that you think about it, that’s so unfair! You didn’t care much about Anastasia while playing, other than wanting her to get the fuck out of the picture for your OTP ship to sail. But why should the villainess shoulder the villain’s crimes?! If anything, it was him who coerced her! All Anastasia wanted was to be with the Crown Prince! He was the only person who ever showed her an ounce of kindness!   Oh god.   All you know now is that you don’t want to die.   You died too early in your past life.   “Anastasia.” You’re shaken awake from your thick slumber by soft cooing. A quiet woman’s voice calls and when you open your eyes, you’re able to focus on a woman you’ve never seen before but is familiar at the same time. She smiles and picks you up. “Good afternoon.”    Instead of fussing around like you usually would, a triumphant smile spreads into your face.   Fucking finally. It’s the first time you’ve seen your ‘mother’. Maybe she’s just been recovering from the birth these past few months. After all, there’s no way the family would actually just abandon you to a bunch of maids—   “Oh my goodness, Elanor!” A shrill voice has your senses tingling. There’s another woman sitting at the rounded table fanning herself with an orange, feathered fan. “What a lovely daughter!”   “Yes, she really is. She hardly cries.”   Now that’s a big fat lie.   You’ve probably cried a thousand times since you got here. It’s not your fault the maids don’t know how to put you in anything other than scratchy dresses and forget to change your underwear after you’ve shit yourself.   Another stranger approaches you and practically digs their nose into your face. Her floral perfume almost has you retching and spewing out an entire bottle of milk in her face. “She is simply too delightful! She has Herrick’s eyes and your nose.”   “Really now? I think she’s growing up to look more and more like the Duke each day.”   “Oh she’ll grow up to be a beauty. You are truly blessed, Elenor.”   Cordial laughter fills the room.   Motherfucker. She’s just using you as a decor! You’re a prop for her to show off at her tea party! She doesn’t care about you whatsoever.    But fine. You can play along with her. It’s not like you have any choice.   You muster an enormous gooey smile, channeling all the cuteness you know you must have and instantly, several of the ladies swoon. It’s an overwhelming victory! But one that requires a lot of energy when you were just awakened from your nap — and squeezing your butt cheeks results in the grumble of your stomach.   Being a few months old, you have poor control of your digestive system. So it’s no surprise that smiling so hard makes you shit your pants.    Oops.   The lump falls into your cloth diaper and instantly, your mother’s brow twitches.   The stench reaches her nose and the nostrils of the lady intruding into your space who immediately draws back in disgust. But what the hell are they expecting?! You’re a baby! All you do is eat, sleep and shit!   “Edith!”    Your mother’s shrill cry has the maid coming into the room. “Yes, your grace?”   “Take Anastasia.”   She passes you off without even looking and you’re swiftly taken away from the room, hearing the laughter and conversations resume the moment the doors close. So cruel!    “Ugh. I’ve never seen a baby who cries so much,” Edith complains and plops you into the bassinet instead of comforting you. If you had limb strength and mobility, you’d slap her for being so rude.   The younger maid with the higher-pitched voice looms over you. “Maybe it’s because she knows the Duke and Duchess never come to visit. She’s missing the comfort of a mother and father.”   Thank god someone can sympathize with you! As incompetent as Joan is — to the point where she’s checking your pants for the tenth time when you’re really just crying because you’re starving — at least she’s not a Karen.   Clearly, the bar is quite low.   “Well, it’s expected.” Edith steps away to fold the basket of your dresses. “The Duke and Duchess tried having children for years and the only child they have is a daughter who can’t even carry the family name. If it was a son, it would be different.”   “I don’t understand.” Joan rushes to the head maid’s side. “Usually daughters are treasured in noble families.”   Edith looks around and lowers her volume. “Don’t you know?”   “Know what?”   “Keep your voice down! If you say this outside, even I won’t be able to help you.” There’s a pause. “The Duke and Duchess aren’t real nobles, they don’t have any noble blood. The Duke’s late father, Arnold, fought heroically in the war and that’s why the King granted his family the title.”   “Oh…but...what does that have to do with anything?”   “Noble society is different from how we know it, you naive girl. No matter what you do, hundreds of eyes are constantly on you. It’s full of scrutiny and someone in power today might be exiled tomorrow. Having a son would’ve made it easier for the Devereux household to maintain their title and prestige.”   Joan sighs, finally realizing why things are the way they are. She comes to you and leans over the bassinet. “Poor thing. It’s not even her fault.”   She gives you her finger and you happily wrap your entire hand around it. Hell yeah! Finally someone’s feeling bad for your shitty situation.   But the older woman with wrinkles around her eyes scoffs. “There’s no use worrying about her. You should be more worried about yourself. If the House of Devereux fails to keep their power and wealth, we’ll be out of a job.”   Joan hums and pries her finger away from your grasps.   You frown and the next time the head maid feeds you, you puke all over her.    But you know what she said is true. It’s the reason why the real Anastasia felt like she needed to become the crown princess, why she tried so hard to make everyone around her approve of her. Aside from loving the Prince, she was desperate for recognition, desperate to fulfill her family’s wishes, and to maintain her family’s lineage without slipping from the status quo.   But you’re different.   You don’t care about those things. You’ll prove yourself on your own and do whatever it takes to survive.   Quickly. Quickly! You want to grow up and walk on your own two feet so you can protect yourself.   After all, no one else in this house will.   You stretch your arm in the air, curling your fingers together, staring up at the starry mobile.    But it’s hard in the body of a mere infant and you fall asleep in the midst of your exercise session, succumbing to the temptation of slumber with heavy lids.
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Four years later.   “Are you colouring, my lady?”   “Nooo.”   You’re writing. And it’s not just anything — it’s battle plans.    To anyone, it’s merely incoherent scribbles, a result of poor motor skills you have yet to refine. But it’s actually your life or death.   You don’t need status or power. Living in the countryside and living fruitfully is good enough. All you want is to live a long, peaceful life.   In the original story, after Anastasia’s eighteenth birthday, she was condemned for countless crimes, thrown in prison and then executed within the matter of weeks. All because of three people: the heroine, the Crown Prince, and the villain.   To avoid the effect, you should avoid the cause. Therefore, you need to do whatever you can to avoid these three!   It’s genius! Truly, if anyone knew how your four year old brain operated, you would be hailed as the next prophe—   “Get ready.” Edith interrupts your train of thought, coming into the room and swiftly shutting the door behind her.   “Why?”   “You’re having lunch with the Duke and Duchess.”   “But I don’t wanna,” you whine, especially when Joan starts collecting the crayons. You stand up before Edith can drag you and you stomp your feet. Why would you want to go have lunch with them when the amount of times you’ve seen them in four years can be counted on both hands.   “Don’t be spoiled. Come here.”   You stick out your tongue instead and the moment Edith’s fingers come to snag you, you swiftly dart and run as giggles squeak out of your body.   “My lady,” Joan sighs, at a loss as well.    The two of them try to corner you, but you dive to the left when there’s a chance.   The original villainess was always quite upright and strict, especially with herself. It’s reasonable considering the way she was raised and the massive burden placed upon her. But kids can get away with a lot more than adults and you’d prefer to take advantage of that while you still can.   “Stop playing around!” Edith finally snags the back of your nightgown and you laugh, still thrashing against her hold until she plops you down on the vanity chair. “You’re such an unruly troublemaker,” she mutters as she grabs the frilly dress you’re about to be changed into.   And just for that comment, you undo the pins she puts into your hair when she’s not looking.   It drives her crazy.   But your little antics are stopped the moment you’re sitting at the dinner table. The height of said table reaches your collarbone and the chair you’re sitting in overwhelms your form. The atmosphere is stiff and tense, your father sitting at the head of the table and slicing into his meat while your mom’s posture is upright and she chews gingerly.    Unlike the maids, you won’t test your luck with the Duke and Duchess. God knows they might send you to some kid ranch for the next ten years to reform yourself.    But you also know you can’t get any cuter than this.   You’ve seen yourself in the mirror — soft skin, big eyes, a button nose and chubby cheeks.   Who knows what puberty might do to you someday, but for now, you’re as cute as a four year old can get. And why not use that as a weapon in your arsenal?   “Momma.” You interrupt the silence and your mother across from you looks up. You give a full smile with teeth, quirking your head to your shoulder and open your arms as wide as they can go. “I like you this much!”   Oh. Hell. Yeah!   You can feel it. You’re totally gonna win them over—   Her head swivels over to the Duke. “Don’t you think it’s time to teach her manners?”   Wow. That’s cold.    Stone cold.   “Edith.” Your father glances over his shoulder and the head maid steps forward. “How’s Anastasia’s development?”   The older woman clears her throat. “She’s a bit wild, your grace.” You glare at her for exposing you like this. “However, she can write the alphabet and read through storybooks on her own. She seems to be a bright child.”   Damn straight. Of course, you’d be able to pick up the language of Ashea quickly. You still have the memories of your past life.   The Duke hums. “Then she can start training to be the crown princess.”   You nearly choke on your broccoli.    But you hastily compose yourself and look up at your father. “What’s that?”   “Don’t ask questions,” your mother quips and the room simmers down to the uncomfortable silence again.   It’s so ridiculous — the very definition of jumping the gun. You aren’t the Crown Prince’s fiancée, but they’re already considering you a candidate before you’ve even lost your baby teeth.   Not to mention, it’s all useless anyway. The original Anastasia never became the princess and you have no plans of even meeting the Prince.    “Do you know what happened in the year 921, my lady?” the tutor asks later on, pushing up his rounded spectacles up the slope of his nose.   You’re slumped over the table, one arm rested with your cheek squished in your hand, focused on twirling the quill with two fingers. God forbid Edith or your mother witnesses your awful posture, but no one’s ever interested enough to sit in on these dumb tutor sessions. They’d fall asleep instantly.   “The war of Winter,” you mumble and the tutor’s eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods.   “Yes! The most momentous moment in the history of Ashea. A great dragon rose from the mountains and in the war of Winter, great King Baek, the light priestess and fierce knights of the royal palace came down the lazy brook from Stoughsby Peaks next to the then Canary district which sold fabrics and spices up until the year 914 when the famine of 914 came—”   The tutor drones on and on.   But one thing grabs your attention. You forgot there was magic in this world.   “Ummm,” you interrupt him in the middle of his tangent. “Did King Baek kill the dragon by magic?”   “Great question. King Baek in the summer of 896, seven years after he was born, started to learn the art of swordsmanship through rigorous training with the fierce knights of the royal place who was then under the rule of King Ennik—”   You don’t know why you asked.   “How do you start doing magic?” you interject again.   “Well, magic is part of everyone and it’s everywhere. But some are more attuned to it than others. It requires vigorous training, the most talented magician was Ruffus Dolores who dedicated his life living in the Magician’s Tower and wrote most of the magical texts we have today.”   You look at him, curiosity finally alight in your eyes. “Can I do magic?”   There was never magic on Earth in the twenty-first century aside from Harry Potter or Twilight, if Edward’s sparkling constitutes as magic. But if it’s anything like those movies, then you’re psyched! You can wingardium leviosa yourself and yeet out of here.   Unfortunately, your excitement is short lived.   “The House of Devereux isn’t very magically inclined,” the tutor says and your eyes dim again. You’re not completely surprised considering Anastasia was never much of a fighter in the game. She just splashed water on the main character’s face a lot and made players like you curse her out. “However, while magic is an inborn talent and comes naturally, skills always have to be honed. There’s still a chance you may have magical abilities. We’ll just have to see as you get older.”   You hum to yourself.   //   Edith pulls the curtains together haphazardly, the moonlight crisp where the gap is and sheds a silver sliver onto the carpet. Joan takes the tray with your finished glass of milk, nearly toppling it over and shattering the glass, but finding balance in the nick of time.   “Goodnight, my lady.”   “Night night.” Your hand peeks out from the covers and you wave.   “Don’t get out of bed or else,” Edith warns in a low tone. “The Duke won’t be happy to hear if you’re found wandering in the halls or sneaking into the kitchen again.”   You giggle. “Bye bye.”   The door shuts, darkness engulfs your bedroom and you count to ten within your head. The moment the seconds are up, you throw the covers off of you and slide off the high mattress.   You come to your desk, grasp the heavy duty textbook off of it and lug it over to the windows.    The enormous book sits on your lap as you lean against your bedpost. The moonlight illuminates the cover and you flip to the magic section at the back, the noise of the pages soothing in the quiet space. Magic — not only is it interesting to you but it could be a great defense mechanism if worse comes to worse. Who knows. It might just add to your battle plans and help you survive.   Your pointer finger underlines the sentences and traces the words as you read the introduction slowly.   After reading, you learn that magic is more intuitive, rather than a particular procedure.    You push the textbook aside and hold your hands out. Shutting your eyes, you try your best to envision light. You try to imagine light engulfing your figure and form, causing your skin to glow.   Peeking with one eye open, there’s—   Absolutely nothing.   Well shit. Maybe the tutor was right. Maybe there is no real magical talent in your bloodline. But there’s no harm in trying to dabble in it a little more.   You conceptualize fire in your brain. And when you look in your hand, you’re ecstatic to see a tiny flame actually flickering in mid-air. Oh shit! It worked!   But it smothers out a blink later.   You try to visualize water next to see if your magical expertise lays within the element. When you open your eyes, your breath hitches at the water droplets floating in your palm. And for once, it doesn’t completely vanish within a second. A grin spreads into your face. But as if Lady Luck wants to slap you, the moment you get hyped, the water splashes into your lap.   It looks like you peed yourself.   “Really?!”   You sigh, ready to give up.   Maybe you don’t have a knack for magic after all.    You turn to grab the textbook, but the heftiness is awkward in your grasps and your thumb slips, accidentally flipping over the next page. The page’s heading makes you stop.    Oh yeah. Dark magic exists.   Might as well give it a shot while you’re at it.   Like all the times before, you shut your eyes and hold your hands upwards. You try to imagine darkness — the similar kind that’s already filled your bedroom, or like the empty void that you were plunged in after being hit by that truck. That abyss of nothing, of pitch black.   Suddenly, you feel a pressure on your shoulders. It’s heavy. Comforting. Eerie. All at the same time.   Your lashes flutter open and your breath is plugged in your nose. Darkness has overwhelmed the room. It bleeds out of you, consuming your form like smoke, the hue of ink spilt on oil. It covers the silver moonlight, erasing the sliver casted on your carpet and what was translucent through the curtains. Exactly like the empty void, the abyss of nothing.    It’s trying to consume you.   There’s a shriek from outside your room. “All the candles just blew out!”   Panic drains blood from your face and you drop your hands, flailing your arms as if you can dispel the black before it wraps its hands around your throat and submerges you completely.   It fades, the moonlight traveling back onto you again and you shove the book underneath your bed.   You’re still shaking as you climb back into bed.   God knows you’re never going to try that again.   //   So you might not have an aptitude for magic after all. But the grief is short-lived after the realization that it’s not a toy or something that comes out of a magical wand for you to fight Dementors with. But there’s still a lot of ways you can protect yourself. You just have to get creative.   “I wanna do that!”    Your nose, forehead and palms are pushed against the glass window as you peer outside.   Joan frowns and peeks out. “You want to go flower picking, my lady?”   “No!”   The useless maid finally looks to the two guards sparring with one another out by the field. “You want to sword fight?”   “Uh-huh.”   She bursts out laughing and you whirl around in irritation.    “I wanna! Pretty please?” How else are you going to protect yourself? If you can’t use magic, then you need to go the melee route and pick up a sword or at least a bow and arrow.   “You would have to ask permission from the Duke himself, my lady.” Joan turns away to make your bed, expecting you to give up. When it comes to asking your parents, it’s too much of a hassle to get involved with them. But this time, you don’t concede.   She’s surprised when you tug on her dress. “Okay.”   The Duke’s study doors are imposing on their own. Without needing to open them, the twisting ornate patterns on the wooden surface are enough to eerily remind you of exposed arteries. It feels like you’re approaching the principal’s office — a nervousness of the impending doom.   You’ve always been careful to steer clear any place your mother or father might be. The study on the third floor, the gardens, their bedroom. And any time you passed, your steps would quiet.   It’s not like you’re scared of them. Frankly, you’re just annoyed at how nit-picky they are.   But you remind yourself you’ve been through worse — you once spent an entire summer in customer service serving food in the twenty first century for god’s sakes!   With that in mind, you throw open the doors.   Joan, behind you, practically flinches.   Your father’s sitting behind his oak desk, quill and parchment in hand, and he looks above his rounded spectacles. You give your most charming smile. “Hi, papa!”   He looks to the older girl and deadpans, “What’s the matter.”   The maid clears her throat, clearly distressed that she’s been dragged into this. “Uh, well, your grace, my lady, uh, she…..well…”   “I wanna do sword!” You tottle towards him and round the desk to come eye to eye with his knees. C’mon, as uncaring as they are, they gotta at least care a little for their daughter, right? You’re too cute to ignore all the time. You flutter your lashes for good measure. “Pretty please?”   The Duke’s brow quirks. “You want to learn swordsmanship?”   You enthusiastically nod. “Uh-huh!”   He stares at you. You stare at him.   The older man sits back in his chair. “It wouldn’t hurt to learn an interesting skill or two. It might make you stand out.” Those two lifelessly said statements alone are enough to make you happy. Even when he resumes his paperwork. “I heard from your tutor that you’re a fast learner.”   You’re surprised the old fart said something good about you, but of course you are! You’re technically twenty four now. Mathematics is truly universal when you can recall the basics and the language is easy to pick up. You’re already dumbing down everything to not make it weird.   “Maybe you’re not so useless after all,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth, no longer sparing you a glance.    You hold back a scoff. Instead, you force a smile and a sweet giggle. “Thank you, papa! I like you too!”   You wonder if this is why Anastasia tried so hard. The only time she gains recognition in her family is when she’s focusing her time and energy into studying and proving her worth. If so, it’s depressing. You wish you had more sympathy for her when you were playing from the heroine’s perspective. But you’re beginning to understand her better and better.    Why she did what she did.   How she became the female villain.   “Fight me!” You point your wooden sword at the knight whose eyes are wide. You bet he didn’t expect to be sparing with a four year old when he was assigned to protect the Devereux house, but this is a matter of life and death for you. “Hurry!”   “Y-Yes, my lady.”   You smile, gripping the handle tighter. He comes up and weakly slashes you and you’re able to root your feet into the ground and keep yourself from stumbling back. He’s obviously not trying very hard, but it’s good enough for now. Slowly but surely, you’re finding a rhythm into things.    In your spare time, you learn the history of Ashea, read books and plan the next steps in your battle plan of avoiding all main characters of the game at all costs. You’ll protect yourself no matter what it takes.   And you’ll survive no matter what happens.
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wildernessuntothemselves · 5 years ago
Text
Touch Me, Tease Me
Xiaojun, Hendery and Yangyang place a bet on who would be able to sleep with you first. One of them slips up and you catch on and punish them for all.
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“So is anymore gonna tell me what the fuck is going on here?” You glare at the youngest member. Xiaojun and Hendery at least had the decency to look ashamed. Yangyang on the other hand stared you dead on, with the most nonchalant expression on his face, and shrugged. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.
The sharpness in your gaze does nothing to deter him, that brat. That’s okay, you’ll deal with him later. Walking closer to Hendery, you cock your head at him, “What about you? Do you have something to tell me?”
His eyes meet yours for a second before he looks down and shakes his head. You sigh, “You know, I really thought you were better than this, Hendery.”
His head shoots up and he laments, “Don’t say that.”
Brushing a finger across his cheek, you sigh, “I thought we had something special.”
He opens his mouth to protest but you shush him. “That’s enough out of you.”
Walking towards the last member, you see him fidget like a cornered prey, and before you even say anything, he bursts out, “It wasn’t my idea!”
“Shut up!” Yangyang hisses at him.
“What wasn’t your idea?” You cock an eyebrow at him, ignoring the other boy.
“Don’t say anything else.” Yangyang pipes up again, and Xiaojun casts a nervous look at him. You guide his gaze back towards you and brush his hair back gently. “I always knew you were the good one. Tell me everything, angel.”
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"Ah fuck, ah fuck, ah fuck!” Hendery pants beneath you as your hand works over his dick, bringing him ever closer to his orgasm. “Please, baby. I wanna fuck your pussy, please.”
“You don’t deserve it.” You mutter, pinching his thigh and making him flinch.
“I’m sorry. Can’t you just forgive me? Please, I can’t last much longer. I need to fuck you.” His eyes fixate on your pussy that was directly above him. but he doesn’t dare lift his head up to bury his face in it like he wishes to. You were all bare right above his face, your arousal dripping down your thighs but he could do nothing but plead for you to have mercy on him and allow him to have what you were literally dangling right above his face.
“No, I’m disappointed in you the most.” You sigh, you hand continuing to move up and down his length. “I thought you really liked me.”
“I do. The bet doesn’t change anything. I swear!”
“Hmm, is that so?” You focus on the head of his cock, pumping him shallowly. “Why don’t you prove it then? Don’t cum and I’ll let you fuck me.”
His body twists left and right, trying to get away from you but the shackles don’t allow him to do so. “I can’t, I’m so close. Please, stop!”
“Hold it.” You order, massaging his tense belly while your other hand blurs over his cock. He throws his head from side to side, screaming, “Please, stop! Please, stop! Ahh shit----shiiit.”
His hips thrust up in the air, ropes of cum shooting out of his dick as he cries out, “Goddammit! Ahhh, fuck---damn you.”
You laugh and loosely pump his cock, barely giving him any pleasure from the forced orgasm. “You disappointed me yet again, Hendery.”
“You’re so fucking mean.” He pants, his hands clenched into fists in their shackles.
“Am I?” You ponder out loud, “Lets see what the other boys think.”
You look to the head of the bed at the two boys sitting there ,smirking as a flustered Xiaojun looks away from you quickly, his ears turning red. Yangyang on the other hand is shameless, staring you down as he thrusts his dick in his closed fist.
“I think you should forget about him and come sit on my dick.” Yangyang rasps, his eyes raking over your naked figure straddling Hendery’s face. They slow down when they get to your breasts, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips at the sight of your nipples poking out in arousal.  
"You little shit.” Hendery curses at the younger boy, craning his neck up to glare at him, but that only brings him closer to your pussy and he gets distracted by your glistening lips, a little whine forming at the back of his throat. “Please, sit on my face.”  
“The more you beg the more I want to tease you.” You say cruelly, wiggling your ass above him. His head falls back to the bed with a groan.
Turning to Yangyang, you arch an eyebrow at him,"You think you can do a better job, cutie?"
"I know I can." He boasts confidently and you chuckle, beckoning him over, "Come closer, baby."
He scrambles to the foot of the bed where you are and you reach out to take a hold of his dick. He was clearly smaller than Hendery, but you thought it was cute how hard and red he was for you. "What a big boy, Yangie."
He blushes, knowing you were teasing him but his cock jumps at your words anyway. “Oh, you like that, baby? Such a dirty boy.” You twist your wrist, stroking him slowly, and he bites down on his lip, suddenly shy.
Not pleased, you slap his dick lightly, forcing a yelp out of him. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. I want to hear how filthy you really are.”  
“He’s a little pervert.” Hendery pipes up, his soft lips fluttering kisses over your inner thighs, tongue peeking out to lap up the tiny drops of arousal that drips down skin. He was being bad, but you were aching to feel his tongue on you so bad. It wasn’t where you needed him the most but you let him anyway. “He hides behind his cute innocent looks but he’s been telling us all about what he wants to do to you once he gets you in bed.”
"Is that true?" You arch an eyebrow at Yangyang, your grip growing tighter around his dick while your other hand flicks his nipple.
"Yes, you’re so fucking sexy. I can fuck you so good if you’d just let me.” He moans, leaning down close to your face as if he was gonna kiss you. You turn your head to the side and push him back. “We’ll see about that.”  
“What about you, Junie?" You turn to the boy who has been quiet ever since this whole thing started, and he quickly rips his hand out of his pants and looks away, blushing fiercely at having been caught touching himself. He was the only one still dressed.
Worried that he might be uncomfortable with this whole thing, you gently tell him that if he wants to stop, you’ll stop, making the other two boys groan loudly.
"He doesn't want to stop." It is Hendery who speaks up, and Yangyang agrees. "Yeah, he drools over you, same as us. You should see how hard he gets when you so much as look in his direction.”
"Is that true, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry, it's gross." His blush deepens, and he picks at the cloth of his pants.
"Ugh, stop playing innocent. Forget about his cheap act and suck me off already." Yangyang complains.
Once again, you slap his dick, harder this time and he flinches away. “That’s not how you ask for something.”
“I’m tired of your games. Are you gonna let us fuck you or not?”
“I swear to god, Yang--” Your blood boils as he rolls his eyes. With steam coming from your ear, you look down at Hendery.  “You want to get back on my good side, don’t you?”
He nods quickly.
“Good.” You undo the shackles around his wrist and hand them to him. “Put these on Yangyang. The baby needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Hey!” Yangyang starts backing away, but it only takes one look at Xiaojun before he springs into action, tackling the younger boy to the bed and pushing his weight on top of him so he won’t get up.
You bend down to be eye level with Yangyang, cupping his cheek in your hand, “You better choose a safe word right now.”
“You don’t scare me.” He glares as Hendery pulls his hands behind his back and clicks the shackles around his wrists.
You let your hand trail down to his neck, and apply the slightest bit of pressure on it. “Your safe word, Yangyang.”
He frowns, and tries to get his hands loose as soon as Hendery lets them go, but all he does is hurt himself. You let him struggle, knowing he’ll give up soon. And he does, glaring at you as he mutters, “Düsseldorf.”
“Good.” You clip, and gesture the other two boys to back off. You turn Yangyang on his front and pull his ass up, smoothening a hand over it. “I’ll give you that attention you want so bad.”
Swinging your hand up, you let it fall, smacking against his flesh and ringing inside the room.
“Shit.” He hands curl up into fists as you keep spanking him. With every contact of your palm with his ass, he gets louder. At first, it’s just hushed gasps and muffled grunts, but as you widen the surface area, smacking his sensitive upper thighs too, his knees start to buckle and he starts whining.
“Does it hurt, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” You push his knees apart to see that his cock was still hard and dripping onto the sheets. “It looks like you’re enjoying it. Was the baby acting up so he’d get punished?”
“No.” He shakes his head, gasping when your hand slips between his legs to tug on his dangling cock.
“Don’t lie to me, baby.” You purr, landing another smack on his ass while your other hand milks his cock, flicking your wrist up and down his hot member. He doesn’t reply, his breathing getting heavy as whimpers and groans keep falling from his lips.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” You drawl, feeling him shake under your hand that was massaging his red skin. “Baby boy can’t help himself when he’s getting disciplined.”
He opens his mouth to say something but the only thing that comes out is a shout as you pull one of his asscheeks up and bend down to lick a stripe along his little hole. Warmth covers your hand as he cums, and you still your hand to let him fuck his cock into your clothed fist, his hips erratic as you continue to swirl your tongue around his asshole.
Finally, his legs give up and he falls into the sheets he had just dirtied up. You take your mouth off him and run your hands up and down his sides, letting him breathe. “Will you behave now?”
He pushes his face into the sheets, hiding from you.
“What a baby.” You chuckle lightly, bending over him to whisper in his ear, “Do you wanna see what good boys get?”
He opens one eye to peek at you and you smile at him. “Watch.”
“Come lie down here, my sweet prince.” You gesture for Hendery to lie down next to Yangyang. Once he’s where you want him, you straddle him and call out to Xiaojun next. “Since you’ve been the best out of them, you get to fuck me.”
His eyes widen and he splutters, not knowing whether to believe you or not since the other two boys had gotten punished. “Go on, angel. Take your clothes off for me.”
Xiaojun awkwardly moves to take off his clothes, hesitating when he’s down to his boxers.
“Come on, angel. I wanna see you. All of you.”
He nods, his ears red as he pushes his boxers down his thighs and kicks them off. He quickly moves behind you, burying his face in your neck. You reach a hand up to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, “Come on, angel. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me. I bet you’d feel so good filling me up.”
He nods, pulling back and hesitantly reaching out to grab your waist. You fall down on your arms, presenting your ass to him.
Grabbing his dick in one hand, he reaches out with the other to spread your wet lips apart, his body shivering at the contact with your soft flesh. Pushing himself inside you slowly, you both moan out in pleasure. But interrupt yourself when you feel Hendery’s mouth at your breast, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking on it.
“Fuck!” You cry out, reflexively pushing back onto Xiaojun’s cock, making the other boy gasp in surprise.
You push Hendery’s head back down, panting as the cool air hits your now wet nipple. “Hendery, do I have to tie you up again?”
“I just want to make you feel good.” He sucks up to you.
“Is that so?” You challenge, and he nods enthusiastically. “Alright then.”
You grab a hold of his hand and pull it down your body, pressing it against your cunt, letting him feel where you and Xiaojun were joined.
“Fuck, I wish that was me.” He moans, rubbing his fingers on either side of Xiaojun’s cock, heightening your pleasure and making you fuck back into the boy behind you.
“You’re clenching around me so much.” Xiaojun cries, unable to keep his own hips from driving forward against yours despite his protests. “Mommy--ah!”
You all suddenly stop, all eyes turning to stare at Xiaojun in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please forget it.”
“What the fuck?”
“Bro, seriously.”
They all speak up at once.
“Shut the fuck up, you two.” You shush Hendery and Yangyang, not wanting to make Xiaojun even more mortified than he already was.
“Xiaojun, do you have a mommy kink?” You ask gently.
“I--I… I guess I can’t say no now, can I?” He replies sheepishly.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, angel.” You coo at him, starting to move your hips along his length once again. “Mommy likes it.”
If it was possible, the boys’ eyes widen even more.
“Shit, that’s kinky.” You hear Hendery mutter under you.
“Do you have a problem with that, Hendery?”
“No, ma’am.” He grins, pushing his head up and going back to mouthing at your breasts.
Wanting to pleasure him too, you rest your weight on one arm while the other snakes between your bodies and wraps around Hendery’s cock.
“Oh.” He moans between your breasts, his hips bucking up from the bed a bit to get you to touch him more.
“You like that, my little prince?”
He nods, his head falling back to the bed so he can stare at you, mouth wide open as his long fingers stroke up and down your slit and his other hand rises up to cup one of your breasts in his hand.  
“Good boy.” Your hand pumps his cock in languid strokes, starting loosely at the base and getting tighter near the head where you rub the heel of your palm over his slit before you go back down and repeat the same motion again.
“You look so fucking sexy. And you’re making me feel so good.” He moans, synchronizing his own movement with yours, running his fingers up your pussy and rubbing tight circles on your clit, making you clench even more around Xiaojun.  
Despite your deliberate pace, his hips soon begin to buck up into your touch. "I don’t want to cum in your hand again. Please don’t make me." He protests, but his hips keep moving as if with a mind of their own. "I need to be buried inside you when I cum."
“Oh, you would. With the way you're begging, you’ll probably only get one stroke in before you shoot your load, and all I'll be getting out of it is a dirty pussy full of your cum."
He shivers at your vulgar words, liking it too much to admit. “Please…”
You contemplate for a minute, sizing up his pleading face. “If you can last longer than Xiaojun, I’ll blow you. How about that?”
“Okay.” He accepts eagerly, his gaze shifting to focus on the boy behind you. “Why aren’t you going faster, Xiaojun? If I were you, I’d be pounding into her pussy until she’s screaming my name.”
Xiaojun groans, his hips involuntarily bucking forward roughly. “Stop it.”
“Why? Don’t you want to make mommy feel good?” The boy under you smirks, riling up Xiaojun.
“Of course I do.” He frowns, his grip tightening on your hips.
“Then what are you waiting for? Fuck her like a man or let someone who can do it.”
Xiaojun scoots closer to you, and you gasp as you feel him pull you up flush against his body. He wraps one arm across your chest while the other drops between your legs.
“Oh.” You barely have time to gasp before his hips start moving, fucking you fast and hard.
“Holy shit.” Hendery’s eyes widen and you laugh breathlessly.
“Good boy, Junie.” You grab Hendery’s dick again, jerking him off fast. His hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist. “Slow down, please.”
“Why? Are you gonna cum just from watching Xiaojun take me? I thought you were gonna fuck me like a man, but here you are, ready to blow your load again like a little virgin.”
“Come on, Hendery. Paint mommy’s tummy with your cum. I know you want to see it dripping down to her pussy.”
Hendery yells at Xiaojun’s sudden boldness, and he can’t stop himself from cumming.
"You don't play fair." He whines.
“Can I be rough, mommy?” Xiaojun whispers in your ear and you shiver. He can fuck you harder than this?
You nod, giving him the go ahead and he pushes you back down on top of Hendery, going down with you and squishing you between him and the other boy. You don’t have time to gather your wits before he’s rutting against you, his cock driving in and out of you at a fast pace that makes you glad you’re held secure between their bodies so you wouldn’t fall.
“Shit, baby, you’re so good.” You moan, and Hendery whines under you, his hands stroking up and down your sides.
You were so focused on the two of them that you almost forgot that there is a third boy present. It’s only when you feel something pushing against your lips that your eyes blow open and you see a needy Yangyang with his cock standing at attention once again.  “It hurts. Will you please make me cum?”
You narrow your eyes at him,  “So now you wanna be good now?”
“Yes. I���m mommy’s good boy.” He uses the pet name to try to appeal to you, acting all cute and innocent.
You know you shouldn’t encourage this type of behavior, but fuck he was cute when he wanted to, and he took full advantage of it. “Please, mommy.”
“You’re such a brat.” You grit, grabbing his cock and putting only the head of it inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around it like a lollipop. Yangyang thighs clench as he struggles to keep from pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. At least he had the sense to do that.  
“Now how is this fair.” Hendery complains, “Even the brat is getting more than me.”
You pop Yangyang out of your mouth, your hand stroking him while you speak to Hendery. “Be good and I’ll make it up to you next time.”
“Fine, but I get to have both your mouth and your pussy next time.” He grumbles.
“Don’t push it.” You warn, your voice breaking off into a moan as Xiaojun’s thrusts move you against Hendery, rubbing your pussy against his navel. Yangyang takes advantage of your open mouth to push his cock back inside. He can’t push it too far with his arms restrained behind his back, just putting the tip in so you can use your tongue to lap at it, but it’s enough for the needy boy.
“Ah, mommy, I’ll cum soon.”
You look up at him, your tongue running over the ridge on the under his head, flicking up and down the sensitive skin, driving him to the edge. His cum shoots out, landing on the three of you.  
As he falls back down to the bed, you twist your head to look back at Xiaojun. “Come on, angel. You’re the only one who didn’t cum yet. I want to let go. You’ve been so good. I want you to fill me up.”
“Ah--y-yes, mommy.” He grunts, his pace turning ruthless. With the way his cock was hitting so fast inside you and the movement of your pussy over Hendery’s body, you feel your orgasm building up.
“Shit, baby, you’re gonna make me cum. Ah---ah--fuck!” You cry out, clenching around him for the last time as you cum.
“Shit, I made you cum just from my cock.” He wonders breathlessly, his hips going sloppy as the realization pushes him over the edge.
“Baby, get off me. I can’t breathe.” You grunt, and Xiaojun jumps up, apologizing profusely.
“Shh,” You cup his face in your hands and kiss him. “You did so good, angel.”
He somehow manages to blush and look sheepish after what he’s just done.
“Ugh, can someone please untie me now?” Yangyang groans.
After you untie him, you bring his wrists to the front of his body and gently stroke them, soothing the red marks imprinted on them. “Was I too rough on you?”
“Yes. You should make it up to me by letting me tie you up next time.” He grins cheekily. You don’t get the chance to smack him before Hendery beats you to it.
“There won’t be a next time, brat. You heard her before. She likes me so you two can back off npw.”
“Why should we back off? She also said she was most upset at you. All you got was a lousy handjob.”
“She said I’m the most behaved one so I should be the one--”
The three of them break out into an argument.
“Quiet, all of you!” You shout sternly, glaring them down. “You were all bad. None of you deserves to have me.”
“But, I--”
“I can make it up--”
“If you’d just--”
“Enough!” Your voice rises above theirs and they fall silent. “It looks like you all still haven’t learned your lesson.”
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A/N: hope you enjoyed this filth. feedback is greatly appreciated mwah. oh and which one of the three boys did you enjoy their dynamic with the reader most? like which do you want to see more?
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