#Seemed like a logical next step after faith | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anantaru · 1 year

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THREE SECONDS

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — as your relationship was ready to take the next step, itto wanted you to meet his granny who had raised him for the majority of his life and was beyond thrilled to show you where he grew up in as a child, or especially how cozy his old bedroom seemed to be.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — this fic stems from a little thirst i wrote a while ago and since i adored that idea so so much i just had to make a whole one shot for it, didn’t expect it to get so long though, still, enjoy! <3

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 5.9k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, messy, whiny itto but also rough itto, riding, fingering, he's insatiable, the horny took him hostage, slight size difference (i mean he's huge), semi! public + his granny is next door preparing dinner.

arataki itto, the one, the only— a man, who could never be easily defeated in the eyes upon his very self.

by the same token, he, in no circumstances regarded anything as a real believed problem which he would have to face in his life sooner or later on, to a higher notice, was he someone who'd pick out the clear positive in most heeded aspects and proceed to give his furthermost, unswerving best.

for you, he was everything and anything, all at once. The bordering, ingrained proximity between you both could have been esteemed like a mind altering drug— neither of you was marginally capable to keep a distance between each other, not when your relationship carried on to bring forth the best of your abilities.

arataki itto— the love of your life, your soulmate, a man who, to the actual core, triumphantly won your heart and sung a promise to protect it from danger of any kind.

be that as it may, tonight, your entire relationship had all gotten a different meaning in his life because of an undisclosed exponent, itto came into hazardous contact with his first real enemy in a long time— the name of the weighty villain was well known, ponderously soliloquized upon the brimming nations of teyvat, the revolting mischief;

anxiety.

now, to remain logical and give the full picture— today was the prized day where you were going to lastly make acquaintance with the person who had raised him for the larger number of his being— his granny, who graciously took him in as a little oni and fondly watched after him with peerless faith and love in this world.

and despite that, unbeknownst to itto, you were, without no holds barred, feeling the same level of distress. It wasn't unnatural to sought after such a devoted step in a relationship— on the flip side can it become undoubtedly frightening and alarming, singularly when it was a striking indicator to remark just how dead serious you both conceived your relationship and its fancied continuance.

when the evening befell the nation of inazuma in its brilliant illustrious artistry, you had met up with your timid boyfriend to then, fidgety stride to his grannies small sized house which had been a partially shade far outside of inazuma city.

your zooming thoughts— like cannon balls, were in abysmal need of required relaxation, in reality, you truly had no reason to be this frightened because even though you had never met her prior to this day, you heard nothing but subliming wonderful deeds about the woman in question, her accepting care and understandings, the way she did not see any differences in humans and oni— viewing them as equal.

"hey no sleeping!" itto suddenly barks, "wait wait are you feeling sick? we can turn around and sit for a while." oh, he sounds nervous but you insist you're fine, because truthfully, you had just reached your destination and you won't be defeated by something as insignificant as nervousness— it's alright, yet you wonder if your hands could please stop sweating so much? ignore it ignore it, there's no way back now.

in front of the door made of otogi wood, your boyfriend lessened his handsome face to meet you, holding your pretty eyes with his diamond shaped pupils. You easily allow yourself permission to cross the fleeting words in your thoughts to run over his question, what he had asked was indeed chucklesome, in a way that you weren't for certain if the spelled out sentence was solely pointed towards your person or if he was in reality questioning himself. "yes i'm alright— are you though?"

the jocular idea of turning around did not cross your mind, not when you came this far and speaking forthcomingly, the pronounced concern on itto's scrunched expression was much larger and dignified than your own, yet despite that, said tangible worry wasn't one bathed in hesitancy or doubts, more— in an enthusiastic procedure that you were, at last, meeting such an important person in his life.

"of- of course i am!" he blabbers, "do i not look okay?!" yeah.. he must be thoroughly relaxed, right? that must be the obvious case, though he was actively waving his hand in the air— yet in front of his cheeks, he made sure he's covering himself, so you wouldn't get a singular chance to catch him blush in a full scarlet pitch, "why— why the hell shouldn't i be?"

"you seem nervous." you bluntly stated but teased, firmly deepening the eye contact and archons, how flustered itto could become when you won't tear your enthralling eyes off him, "— or scared." you carry on to unfitly taunt your lover, sneakily drawing down a firm grin but leaving your brows quirked up light heartedly, "whenever you're experiencing one of those two emotions, your voice gets a little higher, you know?"

"wha-" he interjects, "it doesn't!" for a crisp second, itto came to terms with his graspable frame of mind— because why should he hide his agitation from you? and then the straightforward tension that had been viciously eating him up from the inside out ceased to exist, "not true!" now, come now, "not me!" it had blurred itself out when he got ruminated with a sudden contagious laugh from you while caressing his arm to soothe his worries once more.

"yeah, i can see that." these are some mean turn of events to play with your boyfriends sensitive feelings like that, he figured, so he let his strong hands shelter your soft cheeks in a heart beat, "i'm never scared of anything." he's unnerved, back to his confident self.

"never ever ever, in a million ever never years!"

"you're crazy." you laugh and offer him a signature smile, freely blustering out a sheltered breath as you humanely lean into his left palm— itto flashes you his pearly white teeth and his thumb was lightly tapping on your plump bottom lip before placing a sensual kiss on top.

curiously enough, he never missed the chance to do that, to flip his thumb over your lips with a large smile, so he could lead you through what he was originally planning to do— to smooth you.

"lets get moving m'lady." he refrains, behaving a split amount differently, in all respects energized, "we're already in front of the door."

"you know what i meant!" he pipes up in an immediate rebuttal while angrily stomping his feet on the ground, banteringly pinching your hip, "ouch!" you loudly squeak out in surprise but itto was quicker— because he directly then knocked on the wooden door so you couldn't get back at him without letting his granny see it too.

his coruscating eyes, they expectantly bunch up while actively awaiting for his granny to open the large door to his childhood home, the place, were no matter what past memories, whether good or bad, had been crafted.

"dear, is that you itto?" you paid attention to an older ladies puny asserting voice upon a small space between door and frame, revealed was a short and on the face of it, feeble woman, appearing from behind. "granny! oh granny!" itto loudly cheers and muses, "you sure took your time granny!" this was an all in all cherished attribute you treasured about itto's entire personality— while surely, it by no means has been spread amongst the crowds that he was known for his loud and sparkling persona, but observing his innocent delight when encountered with his parental figure, openly fostered a total gladden in you— it's because you love him, just how he was.

in redirected regard of your own self, you didn't dare to move a single inch— as if frozen to the cold ground, though be that as it may, you could proceed with your reasoning and refer to it as the 'not well regarded accessory' to your continuous pestering tenseness that wickedly sauntered through head to toe.

but on a positive note, it was beneficial enough for itto to be this tall and large in comparison to your own frame, meaning you were capable to easily slip behind his back in hiding.

"this is who i've been telling you about." damn it, a genuine smile plucked the outer region of his lips as he largely stepped aside to reveal you like a gift from the heavens, his hands embarrassingly pointing towards you.

before you can say anything at all, itto had gladly taken over the role of the awkward introduction process himself and introduced you to his lovely granny.

again, thanks to the electro archon for your perfect boyfriend.

"it is such a deep pleasure of meeting you, dear." whatever it may be now, the woman conveyed an immediate tranquillizing quell which had brightly subdued your tensed muscles. "the pleasure really is all mine, miss!" extending your hand to her, she slowly lunged forward to shake it as you introduced yourself again.

now, in retrospect, this entire time, you had been tremendously nervous— highly strung, repeatedly shifting in your shuddering stance from left foot to right foot, right foot to left foot, though now, as you walked into her small home— with itto being a gentleman and closing the door shut behind you both, you at present had felt like you were truly welcomed in her abode.

(major mental sticker for the next time: don't let the useless negativity consume your goddamn mind, okay?)

well, back to business.

throughout the time, itto's sizable hand was, no matter what, situated solidly on the region above your behind, lovingly stationed on your lower back while he guided you to the homely warm and restful living room.

when you listlessly skimmed through the many decorations of the place, you discovered a framed picture of itto as a child next to his granny, it wasn't difficult to see their emotions through the stilled memory, both were marvelously happy and utterly fulfilled— grateful, with a squishy onikabuto plushie being sponged and pressed into itto's chest.

how long have you been staring at the frame? you can't recall, but fortunately to you, you got drawn back to the present reality when your boyfriend pinched your arm. His grandma— such a warm hearted lady, had affectionately assembled two beverages meant for you as she further beckoned you two to take a seat on the mellow couch.

"this is quite embarrassing." she weirdly was in a panicked stance about something rather awful, even going as far as to idly enclose her slender arms around herself, shaking, "what is it granny? are you sick?"

itto pucks himself into the seat with concern, yet striving to stand up right again and aid her in whatever was the critical problem at hand, "oh no! dear." she worrisomely shakes her head and her cheeks irradiated a scarlet tint, "but the dinner isn't ready yet!"

"that's all?!" itto exhales enormously from his chest— to a greater extent, one could say he was about to pass out from the thought of having something serious happen without him being in on it. Despite your rocky state of emotions from beforehand, you were now hopeful and viewed this polished opportunity as your sweet time to shine.

"can i be of help?" you bring forth self assured confidence in your tone color, "i might not be as skilled as you but i can try!" sliding the glass back on the coffee table, you were ready to get up and aid in the kitchen— it was not a big deal and you were always happy to help, especially when it was someone who was regarded as the closest family member to your boyfriend.

having said that, the wishing reply you had longed for, wasn't actually what happened, "there's no need dear." she sweetly giggled around her words, being truly flustered to the core by your sweet attempt to help her out, pretty much warming up with you already— you were lovely in her eyes, "and i'm certain itto desperately wants to show you around, isn't that right?"

you, of course, won't argue with that, "so damn right!" itto was full of happiness, and now, he's pushing himself up from his seat, additionally inviting you over to grab onto his hand so he could lead you around everything, "there's much to show after all!" with your hands quietly placed on your thighs, you feel nothing but giddy and take his palm, but rationally, you'd rather spend time with her so you could get to know her better.

that certainly was the best idea, but inside of you, the sultry skittish feeling of watching itto like that— so happy and excited, was priceless in your very eyes, maybe ... you could sneak in a few fleeting kisses before having to come back, hmmm, this does sound quite bewitching now, doesn't it?

on the way out of the living room, you were met once again with objects from his past, all pridefully shown and displayed around the tiny corridor he was leading you in. Next, on the very left, you found yourself in front of a wooden door that wasn't like any other, it was, quite frankly, messed up with what seemed to be symbols clumsily drawn on with a bunch of pencils— very itto typical, you humbly added.

"there we go." he's so excited, happy, euphoric— are there any other ways to possibly describe his emotions right now because in itto's perspective none of them were doing it justice, "the room of a real oni!"

"aww!" you accept the entry and let him close the door, leaving you both sheltered in place. his room was bigger than you had actually expected; a small, cleaned bed lovingly decorated with two larger plushies on top— one specifically caught your eyes, it was the same one that you saw earlier on the picture with his grandma, the onikabuto exemplar, while the other was funnily resembling a ruin guard of some sorts?

without much to say, both were worn off, he must've played with them in his childhood days.

"what do you think?" he quirks a brow, "to be honest, i was a little worried it wouldn't do me justice." you roll your eyes in the back of your head, what a guy.

at the prospect of being quite the stunner at taunting or playing with your boyfriend, you breathe out euphorically before speaking again, "the bed is so tiny, how little you were itto!"

"tiny?! it's not tiny!" he stomps forward, "this isn't tiny! or is it?"

was this the beginning of a heated debate? not really, but maybe a little. to elaborate himself further without requiring words, itto was swift and eager to carelessly wind away the dear plushies to awkwardly drop his wholeness onto the frail bed and archons— let it be known that the old woman outside had trouble hearing because those damned squeaking sounds were violent, dropping off the walls with an intensity you haven't heard before.

was itto about to break the bed? no no, you suppose. hopefully not.

"looky looky." he thoughtlessly leans back into the silken cushions but props himself up with his elbows so his pretty view on you would turn out even prettier, "it's large, just like me." — how can this man be for real sometimes, you wonder, snorting out a silly laugh on how impossibly comical he looked right now, with the majority of his legs hanging out of the bed frame.

"it sure does." you feign your engaging sentencing, silently getting close and walking towards him to sit, somewhere— which, uh, wasn't possible because he took the entire space.

literally, how could he not?

so, instead, you had, emphasizing heavily on the 'had', resulted to therefore straddling his hips with your thighs on each side of him. You're leaning forward and to that— your dress instantly responded with unknowingly pining up and revealing more of your smooth legs. Due to this unseen course of events, itto thumbed down entirely, now laying flat with you mounting on top.

the shallow heave that unbuttons from his throat when you declined your head to sweetly plant a semi innocent kiss on his lips, it was overflowing with tension, beyond wishing, so he leaned in— one kiss, two, one more? perhaps a couple.

in a profound refrain, you found yourself relaxed, making out with itto, still largely gentle and shy— if only he wouldn't have began to skim over your body with his hands, up and down in circles, his palms were seizing the movements of you, heatedly glissading over your exposed skin until looming them further back to greedily grab a fistful of your flesh and knead your ass to drag you close.

on purpose or not? but your cunt was now directly brushing on top of his member.

"mmh." you inaudibly whimper into his mouth as you coincidentally rub down on his groin, "ah— i'm sorry." he speaks and unexpectedly drags your pussy over his hidden cock. "fuck-" normally, you're so so careful— fuck, you wouldn't, right? do it on purpose, never.

amusing, you, as a matter of action, did not miss how tensed up itto was, how overwhelmed with the budding pressure in his pants.

how ... he was in his old bedroom, giving his almost painfully growing erection the thing it desired, from you, his cute darling. His breathing had been erratic while his digits further altered your flesh to keep you stilled but surely pressed right on top of his swelling cock.

rationality, here we go, "w-wwwait." his cheeks had a sudden burn with an equal amount of both a higher consciousness of euphoric bliss and clear embarrassment, itto figures that— archons, he might already be done for, the 'little' problem in his pants, how was he supposed to get rid of it before dinner?

"sorry." you cheekily coo and bit your lip back at him, "but you're comfy." cozily wrapping your arms around his neck, maybe another kiss will do it, so you sloppily go down and pull away with a sharp tug on his lower lip. You smile, although sheepish, "we should get up." and whisper the evident.

but unmistakably, if you would've acted out on what you were manifesting, or that you were more than certain you had wholly slicked up your thin panties by now— sensing them stick on your core, you would've blindingly leaned in to whatever you were attempting to do this second.

"wait." oh? this tone was different and you liked it— remembering the cause of it too. Much deeper was the timbre and not in his usual airless color, because itto was dead serious in his shaking utterance, a single word demonstrated a devilish command, "i'm a little—" you follow his eyes with your own and watch the mess in between your sticked together bodies— your dress had been draped up even more and was now pressed up, resting right above the beginning of your ass while itto's pants were extremely tight.

he embarrassingly looks up at you with hesitancy, "oh you know- i think i need a second." and he forcefully exhales his words from his tight chest, "but you are- fantastic." and prolongs his trembling heave right after, "and warm." while he closes his eyes, only a short amount because he had to catch your hips and stop them when you tried to move.

"what are you?!" he groans so loud, too loud— shameless, as you were quick to shush his noisy tongue with your hand clutched around his needy mouth, "shhh, don't talk." you coo, "don't say anything." and he listens carefully, with wide opened eyes, nervously gulping down the assembled saliva, "let me help you out, okay baby?"

finally, fucking finally, he thought, "c-careful." itto mumbles into your hand as you used your other to clumsily open up his pants— pulling down his, with pre cum drowned, boxers, at last freeing his erect cock that was plopping out of the garments.

it's heavy, shading red and the deep blue'ish broad veins on the underside of his girth left nothing left for imagination— your mouth practically watered at the filthy, sinful sight, but it's so tasteful and you wanted to please him right away, maybe suck him off and let him fuck your face, but now— not now, his grandma was literally in the next room and preparing dinner for you, right, almost forgotten!

lets just get this quickly over with and help your handsome boyfriend with his not so little problem— later on there was still additional time, you can always fuck at home, real messy and loud— leaving yourself to him so he was able to pump his seed into you and let it ooze out again.

"ah- baby." his voice sounded impatient and a bit whiny, "it hurts." he grits his teeth and his cheeks burn up, he lifts his hips and softly grinds into you while keeping you down, his face was incredibly red and even the tip of his ears had now visualized the exact same color. There's no way he didn't spend time to think about it too— about the shared fantasy, about pistoling his cock deep into your spongy cunt, it makes him question himself if he can actually pull it off, in this small room with the bed squeaking at every move.

the delirious flutter was risky, but worth it?

"okay, you know what?" he spills out, chasing more relief, "just the tip." he whines, "only the tip, please!" you curiously readjust yourself to rut your cunt on him— on the brink of turning brainless yourself. "you know we wouldn't stop." but the mental image of his tip splitting you roughly had you close your legs around his body, shoving your pussy on his bare cock again.

"but it hurts-" and you shake your head, just wanting to scream that it hurts you too, "i know baby but we can't."

one hundred percent a bad idea— that's what it was in an outer perspective, but how could you ignore his mushroom tip leaving itself get messed up by your arousal— how now, he nudged himself into the flimsy material of your panties to rub his length within your folds, spreading them apart, loving your wet cunt, "five seconds." you can barely hear him say it, "just five seconds." archons, where were the infamous rational thinking skills when you were in dire need of them?

fuck this, rightfully so, "three." now, you start to bargain for the tasteful prize, "four." and itto was determinedly stammering right back at you while his mouth was still covered by your hand. You both cannot believe each other, truly, how desperately needy you were, at this point barely caring anymore when he slowly bumped his drenched cock into your pussy— your underwear by now fully slipped to the side.

"three seconds!" — "oh man .. fine."

you drop your weight before he could finish his words, catching him so off guard was rare in it's own glorious state and you‘re taking his tip further, making the man underneath you deeply groan into your hand. "shut up itto!" you laugh and embarrassingly snort a little, "i'm sorry!" this whole lively situation had a comical sense to it because when else are you fucking your boyfriend in his old bedroom— in a bed that was way too small for any of you, but maybe that's the fun part of being this close together, fusing your skins as one.

you go silent, overwhelmed and shaking, to counter attack your natural body reactions you forcefully bite down on your bottom lip to withstand the upcoming moans, "fuck, fuck!" for comfort, you lean into him as his tip naturally slips in and out of your warm pussy, in and out, in and out, catching a glimpse of his already hooded eyes. "only the tip." you jokingly repeat, "mhm the tip." he moans back into your hand while you felt him drool on you— because there you were flaunting your tits at him, rigidly pressing them into his chest with your pointy nipples finding friction.

itto shuts his eyes on the sprouting frustration closing around his belly, "mhm, i can't believe this." he almost laughs, as if to ease you both down in his own silly ways, "me neither." he further molds his hands over your hips to hold you in a precise way. Truthfully, your trembling thighs were burning and sore, firmly splattered with arousal and exposed to him.

the position you were currently in wasn't kind to you, if anything it was becoming harder to remain focused so you wouldn't end up suckling in more inches without realizing.

you carefully move away your hand and give him enough space to breathe more sizable and damn— the sight in front of you was a fucking longed one, downright unreal, it wasn't able to be somewhat framed or painted into words.

itto whatsoever, his face had spiraled into complete redness, granted, he was trying his utmost finest to be good and not greedy, though the punishing demonstrated fantasy of bulging his cock into your sensitivity was always there— his shaking hands clearly giving it away.

"ah- this is awesome!" itto clears his throat and needfully runs his knuckles over your skin, reaching your behind— two of his fingers ran down to your folds to spread them and leave him with more room to stay inside, "yeah.. this is better." he heaves and you whine because it really does feel better that way— you've been plenty wet by now and if you weren't this patient, you surely would've fucked him into oblivion by now.

you hide your pleased face in his neck, "i can't believe we're doing this." and admit, arching your back a little (for good measure) before slowing one of your hands over his damp forehead where a couple of his hair strands were sticking onto, due to the excessive amount of sweat, "i think I'm dreaming!" though it's stupefying, itto gladly relishes in the smug satisfaction, claiming you one inch further, a bulged type of sweet and honeyed pride was delivered when he let you do it— slurp up one more inch, ambling his hips differently for a finer angle.

you kiss itto's lips to soothe his gravelly groans, in addition to your own squeaky huffed out cries— he's so big and heavy that when you move just a little, it's as if he's strapping you off every single inch of control in your body, as if he's, on purpose, targeting the plushy splotches in your walls.

you grab onto another inch as he passionately groans into your mouth— more please more, bracing yourself, letting his tongue run free into yours, he continues it, pitching his hips further and spreads his thighs to rub you into him while his eyes flicker with lust and so do yours.

you just cannot think straight anymore, it's not possible nor required, you are so fucking fucked right now, both deliriously good and blazingly bad.

itto thinks it still isn't enough, his big cock was tingling in your walls and it should be criminal on how fucking fine your closed insides were, ravenously bordering on him and gripping him— it doesn't even compare to other instances in his life because you both couldn't keep your hands to yourself and wanted to straight up— lose your minds and bodies.

a hiss spills from his throat and it appears like your legs are about to give up on you— your tits too, bounce in tune to your actions and surge eminent bliss into your veins. You find yourself entranced when he crowds you and your toes curl at another easy shove forward.

the painstakingly grab on your hips was to leave bruises, his knuckles turning white and his dick shimmers with your arousal that you sink down further.

you adjust and squeeze around him, bending over when breaking off the kiss, your wet lips twitching in a shameless grin as itto chuckled right under you. The lower side was rammed with your transparent liquids puffing out your pussy— itto's eyes were blown wide and he makes sure to always remember to stretch your ass while you look so adorable above him, creaming on his cock that was now completely clashed into you.

hold on.

what happened to the three stated seconds? or just the tip?

three or none, oh no— not this, please no, archons above please send us mercy because how much fucking time has passed since you started this succulent and mouthwatering gamble?

"fuck— just like that." itto mouths without a single care behind those eyes, "you're the prettiest baby, you know that?" he lifts himself into you and turns the bed into nothing more than a squeaky noisy problem. It could've turned out real embarrassing if not one of you had turned on your hazy braincells.

"itto wait!" you foolishly whine, "shit, too loud!" he bottoms out and smacks his balls into you, remembering the obscene situation as the bed loudly creaked. "shit, shit shit." your mouth clashes onto his with saliva bubbling out of the outer parts of your lips. Yet you don't stop, instead you grind your pretty cunt on him and smear his filth over your soft walls.

"do you think?" you're concerned for the obvious, stilling yourself, "no no, don't worry baby." itto speaks up, "are you sure? we were very loud right now." he captures your body in between his arms to twitch inside your core, you on the other hnd never adjusted to his large dick— you just couldn't stop pulsing on his length, it's swilled with your liquids. "i got you, i'm sure she didn't hear anything."

while you do want to place your greatest trust into him, you weren't stupid, but amidst the sinfulness of it all, you nod your head at him. "we need to finish this quickly." whispering from above, your warm breath fans over his skin.

itto doesn't answer, there was no need for it, not now at least. He reaches up to lift your chin to lead you towards his lips and you cry into the sloppy kiss while his other hand dampened down on your folds, roughly stimulating you with his knuckles. "i- fuck, i-got-you." he finally says in between groans and urges you to continue, "i'll make you cum on me." his words came out in a stitched together grunt.

his mind— it was gone and clouded and another moan leaves him right after at the galvanizing sight of you. Itto braces himself and leads you to heaven, it's overbearing and frustrating, but the new punctuated jolts were closing down on your sensitive cores, they were tempting and pressing on your beating thuds.

all you could think of was for him to please please go faster, but it wasn't possible, not anymore. okay, well, it was but, you would equally be busted and you were sure the embarrassment of being caught by his fucking grandma during the act alone would give you terrible nightmares for years on end.

his knuckles dig into your shining folds and rub you fiercely while taking you with his cock. By how rough itto was fucking you now you had to close your hand around his mouth again so he could freely grunt and moan— vocalize his pleasure to you so you can latch onto him finer, constrict on his shaft and milk him dry until he's wet of a white ring of arousal, the clear determination to finally cum was genuinely all you both could think of.

you cry yourself into his shoulder when he pulls you to him, fisting his palms into your draped up dress to practically rush you back and forward— using you as a fucktoy to drench his cock in. His hips are stuttering and you knew he was close— because in truth, you were too, the continuous intrusion of his sensual tip on your pleased insides felt so fucking fine you thought you were actually going to tear up from it.

it's when it began to burn as he continuously smacked his hips into you, both tightly squished into each others embrace and melting into your bodies. You were drooling on your entire chin and then it happened, bringing you back to the overstimulation which was twice as powerful, twice as deep— pulling out your climax from your strangled rooted core as you violently clenched on his heavy cock, your orgasm thundering over you.

"too much, too much!" you whisper cry on him and itto plants one of his hands on the back of your head to squish you close as he climaxed too, sealing his lips as you pressed your hand into him. "I'm so close— so close so close." his hips were still going but slower, his calloused palm holding you down, guiding you where he required you to release his seed, paint your walls with silken white and calm your inflamed skin.

"fuck!" he moans and his eyes roll back, "inside— im inside you." itto feels empty but fulfilled, the compressed position was in any other occasion insanely unfitting and uncomfortable, but for you there wasn't a better one. His breathing was hot and the entire room smelled of sex and filth, the spilling ropes of cum were seeping right out of you.

the both of you were utterly panting and damn, itto came a lot, cummed as deep as he could and his grunts were still there— low and under the shadowy rasps, leaving it to you to finish him and he relishes in it, entirely, when being milked by a warm cunt such as yours, a claimed one, by him alone.

it's silent before your thoughts come back swirling, heated but never forgotten, you prop yourself with your arms and smile at him, but then it hit you.

"no no." you panic and your eyes glue down on your not so innocent lower region, "we made a mess." he smirks back at you, all puffed out and blowing. "how do we cover that?!"

you lift your hips and are now presented with the post nut problem, vision still glassed up and shaded by how good you were being fucked just moments ago. "wait let me-" itto helps you lay down while he sits up on the bed, his cock limply coated in arousal, "do you need- uh, wait!"

he swiftly searches around the room and finds a towel, hastily handing it to you, "thanks." you shyly mumble, still sore, "how do i look?" you ask him jokingly while fixing your make-up simultaneously to rubbing off the crumbling perspiration on your body.

"like you just had the best orgasm in the world." he sings, putting up his pants while helping you as much as he could. "you're one to talk." you tease, breathless and still hot, pulling down your dress as itto reaches out his arm to you, aiding you to stand up.

a hand falls heavy on his palm and you curse yourself for not figuring out sooner that you were thoroughly sore and done— swelling and used, especially your muscles were burning, searingly aching, "oh— easy now." itto could do this all day, watch you fix yourself after he fucked your brains out— minus the doing it in his old bedroom. His inflated ego breaks records, "are you okay?" but the concern in his voice was sweet, "y-yes."

"lets eat dinner then!" you almost forgot about that.

he rubs his belly and you nod your head in agreement, spouting out a wheezy laugh while you began to fix his hair, "— and hope your grandma didn't hear a thing." and end his sentencing at last.

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blacknedsoul-blog · 8 months

Text

My bets on Nevermore's development

In the middle of the arc and with the White Raven divorce beginning, I think I feel comfortable betting on how all the story lines the comic has laid out so far will play out. A mixture of analysis and theories.

Duke and Montressor

I don't think Duke will die. For several reasons (one of which I'll explain below), but the main one is that Duke is a character who still has a lot to give: they've gone to the trouble of giving him a name, a past, a personality, and yet none of these things have been properly explored. The comic wouldn't really benefit from Duke dying because he still has a lot of interesting things to bring to the story.

Coupled with the fact that we're still learning how Spectres work, and with Duke unable to manifest, it's the perfect time to flesh out that part of the lore and give us a cool moment to show us his Spectre.

That said, I have a hard time seeing a way for Montressor to stay in the game once this issue is over: he's proven himself to be a menace that won't stop and an unmitigated sadist. The guy is just evil, and frankly, he didn't seem to have much more backstory or anything new to bring to the table.

My bet on him is that he'll die, maybe Lenore will go with the group in psycho-killer mode, Duke will confront him with his spectre, Morella will go against him to save Ada, Annabel will try to make merit so Lenore won't be asked for a divorce, or the Deans themselves will see him as a problem they need to take care of. If the comic thinks murder is irredeemable for its characters, maybe he'll have a Frollo-style death where it's his own ego that kills him (what if he becomes one of the creatures roaming the school?).

I think this because, besides how satisfying it would be to see him die, I think it would be a good time for the comic to show you the consequences of death within Nevermore. We know that going to the Land of the Dead is a terrible thing, but we don't know exactly what it entails. And seeing it would make any future threat seem more terrifying.

Post-Divorce

The White Raven will reconcile. This is obvious: the comic is about their relationship, the publicity for the comic has them together, and much of the appeal of the work comes from their romance. It's not a question of whether it will happen or not, but how it will happen and what the consequences will be.

Maybe some extraordinary event will happen to bring them back together, or we will have the equivalent of the Greenhouse 2.0 scene where they have a whole conversation about why, even if Lenore understands Annabel reasons, this is a situation that can never happen again.

One thing I want to point out here: I don't think Annabel did this out of jealousy. Maybe she feels it, but this story has made a consistent effort to show you that while Annabel is hypocritical, manipulative, and Machiavellian, she still has a moral compass: her reaction after when Montressor makes Ada bark and when Prospero is about to have a breakdown indicate that her limit is to hurt others gratuitously. She won't defend them if it puts her in a problematic situation, but this clearly pisses her; by that logic, it would even be out of character for her to try to hurt Duke because she's jealous, and more importantly, it would do irreparable damage to her relationship with Lenore (which is why I don't think our favorite Frenchman dies).

Understanding that, there's one thing these two haven't really talked about: for Lenore, getting her friends out of here is not something optional, she's completely determined to do it, and given this moment, it's very likely that the next step will be for Annabel to join the "save everyone" team: she thinks Lenore is capable of anything, and so she's going to put all her faith in her being able to pull this off.

Coupled with the fact that the plan to keep Lenore as a harmless figure went to hell after the incident in the tower, she's going to have to adjust things. And my theory on this is that Annabel is going to expand her rivalry plan to the group level.

I believe this because the logical conclusion after the banquet is that the Deans, for some reason, want the students to fight, to foster an atmosphere of competition among them. So far, giving them what they want has worked perfectly for them, so they would suggest that it would be helpful to pretend that things are going exactly as they think they are while they try to figure out how to get out of this place, at least until they can think of something better.

Yes, I assume Annabel will join the Misfits. She'll probably be like Zuko from Avatar, begging for forgiveness and winning them over one by one in individual arcs.

Another important development that will come out of this is that when Lenore is fed up enough with her bullshit, she will remind Annabel of her promise about how they both get their memories back: they are already right in the middle and it will be time to start putting the puzzle together.

However, I have reason to believe that Annabel will manage not to talk about the exact way they both died for a very simple reason: whether Lenore was Annabel's executioner or not, they died together. Lenore was there, and she will most likely blame herself because "if I hadn't gone looking for her, Annabel would still be alive" and for "not protecting her".

But by the time they have this conversation (or she finds out otherwise), the comic may be starting to address one of Lenore's major conflicts as a character: because of her fear of abandonment and her feeling that she is undeserving of love, she has no qualms about putting herself in danger to protect others. This is a terribly damaging perspective in the context that the Deans have created: not only is it naive to think that she can always protect her friends or Annabel from getting hurt, but Lenore unwittingly carries the feelings of the people who love her by endangering herself.

My head canon

Everything I've said so far is based on things the comic has shown and storylines that may not be explored in this specific way, but are more or less on the comic. But there's a lot of nonsense out there that I'd really like to see, even if there's little or nothing in the artwork to indicate to me that any of those things will come to fruition.

Annabel vs. Montressor

I would love to see Annabel vs. Montressor precisely because Annabel has no chance against Montressor: she has no experience in a fight, even if her spectre is a powerful one, Montressor would wipe the floor with her. But I think it would be a nice way to put a point: Annabel and Montressor are not the same.

He enjoys torturing others, she will be a villain to protect what she loves.

I can also think of two interesting things that could come out of this encounter: Lenore having her moment where she thinks Annabel is dead, parallel to the maze scene (for Lenore, Annabel is an unbeatable queen, so she could use a little reality check), and a conversation along those lines:

-L: Did you think that by putting yourself in danger like this I was going to forgive what you did?!

A: I didn't do this because I thought you would forgive me. Deep down, I know you already did, even though that doesn't mean I shouldn't face consequences for my actions.

-L: ...Then why?

-A: Because I promised you I would. I said I would distract our enemies, that I would protect you from my allies, and that's exactly what I did. I knew I couldn't handle him, but I was distracted and wounded enough to get the job done.

This would finally establish one thing that has been up in the air about Annabel: yes, she really behaves and acts like a villain. But after something like this, there would never be any doubt (for the readers or for Lenore) that she always keeps her promises.

Imagine the delicious drama that could come from establishing that so forcefully.

Eulalie is a Lennabel shipper

Come to think of it, the two of them haven't done a very good job of hiding it: we go from Lenore running all over school to take care of Annabel to watching them fight for no apparent reason.

I like to think that Eulalie seriously suspects something is going on between them, and when the Misfits inevitably find out about Annabel and Lenore's relationship, she'll be like, "Oh, you guys hadn't noticed?" while saying things like, "Oh, so you're the one who took us to the haunted mansion!"

Annabel and Berenice as unlikely friends

I love the image of Berenice physically threatening Annabel with the knife and saying something like "You're a posh bitch, but you've got style" after she doesn't react in fear. I also think Bernice would be the first to admit that while she won't easily forgive Annabel for putting Duke in danger, she wouldn't have hesitated to throw Annabel, Prospero, Ada, or Will under the bus to protect any of her group of friends if necessary.

Also, the idea of Annabel saying, "She's a violent slur. I want her around" is oddly hilarious to me.

Prospero as the ultimate "tired friend"

If Annabel takes Prospero with her, I can imagine the guy banging his head against the wall all the time because he sees all these idiots who are strangely competent when you get right down to it, but choose to spend their energy doing stupid things when no one is dying.

A terrible deal between Duke and Annabel

Remember that wonderful scene in Avatar where Katara threatens to kill Zuko if she thinks he's going to hurt Aang? I like to think that Duke and Annabel will have a scene like that:

-D: They didn't see the look on your face when they put up the wall, but I did. And I can assure you that I won't hesitate to act if I think you're going to hurt my friend or any of them, cherie.

-A: Promise?

-D: ...

-A: That you will be there to protect her no matter what, even from me. I wouldn't mind you holding the sword of Damocles over my head if it proves to me that you can protect her from any threat.

-D: You have my word.

In conclusion

So that's my bingo on how things will go in the comic from here on out. There are some things (like Morella's development, what's going to happen with Ada, or when the hell we're going to get some backstory on Will) that I don't think I have enough information on to theorize. But here it is.

#annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee whitlock #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht #nevermore webtoon #white raven

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year

Text

Just right (Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Marc joined the Marines thinking he might finally belong somewhere. Turned out, he belonged next to you.

Author’s note: I wanted to do a bit of exploration of younger Marc, years prior to the show. And here it is! (Second attempt at posting, after my mobile version yesterday was full of bugs and kept deleting sections, ach!)

Warnings: strong themes of rejection and loneliness. Some negative self-talk about being “different”. Some ableism from fellow soldiers. Canon typical mentions of blackouts / memory lapses / time loss. Mentions of violence, blood, death, injury. Allusions to childhood abuse but not explicit. Allusions to brother’s death and self-blame. Allusions to suicidal ideation and self-harm (vague, brief). Mentions of smut but fade to black. Lmk if I missed anything.

GIF by clonecaptains

Marc had never quite felt like he fit in. Had always felt a little different. He hadn’t fit in at school. Hadn’t fit in with his faith community, nor with the other people in his neighbourhood. Not even with his own family, in the end.

Marc blamed himself, of course. When people were distant. Even when they were cruel. Thought that he was the one who was “off”. That it made sense that people would shy away from him. Treat him badly.

After all, look at what he’d done. The worst of deeds.

He’d tried to escape. To move on from all of that, in a way. Maybe a small part of him had hoped things could be different when he left home. For the most part though, joining the army had simply seemed like the logical next step. Where else was there for people like him? For killers? He’d honestly believed that he would finally find his place.

And yet... even here. Even amongst a regiment of people trained to be the same, act the same, walk the same, dress the same… Marc still stood out. Marc still didn’t feel like he fit in.

It was beyond him to understand what he was doing so wrong. He tried. He really did. Tried to the point of exhaustion.

In many ways it worked for him. Held him. The predictable routine. The clear rules. The order. In other ways, he knew that even in a mess hall filled with people trained to be the same, he was still… different. The worst thing was, the others saw it too. Unlike his mother, they didn’t even know what he’d done, and yet… they were still distant. They were still cruel.

He’d started to wish that he could just leave all of this behind. That he could simply be an army of one. Thought that he would be better off that way. But the truth was, Marc had never really known how to be alone - even if everyone else in his life had seemed to leave him behind, one way or another.

Marc didn’t want to stand out. He didn’t. In fact, he craved the opposite, these days. All he wanted now was to disappear.

That’s exactly what Marc was thinking about as he sat there in the emptied med bay, his knuckles singing with pain.

After it had happened again. After he'd blacked out.

He'd blacked out in the field. During a mission. Had taken a life with his own bare hands.

He didn’t remember how. Only knew that when he had zoned back in there had been blood. That his hands were red and his knuckles were singing with pain, like this. He only knew that there was a dead man on the floor - and that it wasn’t him. He'd felt sick for being thankful. Then, he'd felt even more sick for feeling disappointed.

Marc hadn’t been the only soldier to kill today; but he’d been the only one to do it like that. Messy. Close up.

Some of the squad had praised him afterward. But only the soldiers -Marc had noted- with that rabid, reckless, soulless glint in their eyes. With wolfish smiles on their mouths. The ones that took up too much space. Took everything too far. The killers. The army would always contain some people like that, Marc thought. People like him. And yet, no matter how hard Marc stared into the mirror, his eyes never looked quite the same way as theirs did, even if his whole life he’d been told he was the same. That all he could do was harm.

Shouldn’t he be good at this? Isn’t this his nature? To end things? He had some talent for it.

Why then, did he wretch and vomit when his first shot had bedded itself in human flesh? Why did he cry after in his bunk, writhing his legs under the blanket for hours and tensing all his muscles until they hurt?

Some of the other soldiers had reacted differently. Some withdrew from him. They had killed today too, some of them. Clean, distant shots, so they could pretend like they hadn't. Marc couldn't pretend that, covered in red and dust. In the helo, he could feel their eyes on him - burning uncomfortably. He could hear the whispers. Even here, amongst men who killed and amongst killers, Marc was considered strange.

He didn’t fit in.

He didn’t fit.

He never fit.

He never seemed to get things right.

He clenched his fists even tighter, until his nails dug bloody crescent moons into his palms. It hurt, but he didn’t notice that it hurt. He was too used to the hurt.

Even here, then.

Even as part of a squad, Marc was lonely. Lonely like he had been for so long.

But then, there was you.

You were the only friend he had out here. One of the only true friends he’d ever had, actually. At least, he thought you were friends. Hoped you were friends. Around you, apparently, Marc could manage to say the right thing. Do the right thing.

Maybe you didn’t think he was so different - or maybe you did, but you liked him anyway. Maybe you simply tolerated him. Maybe you simply pitied him. But Marc didn’t care about that, in truth, because at least you weren’t distant, and at least you weren’t cruel, and he never had been very good at being alone.

You were a good thing. One of the few good things out here.

In a world where everything always seemed too much for Marc, or too little. Too loud, too quiet. Too bright. Too intense. In a world where everything was off, you were just right.

And still, he felt like he was all kinds of wrong.

You though? You never made him feel that way.

You made him feel like he fit.

For the first time in a long time, like he belonged.

***

You looked for him after. After it all turned red and loud, the sound of explosions ringing in your ears. The vibrations of the ground shaking through your body. The adrenaline buzzing under your skin.

You had heard the whispers. You saw the wary glances, as Marc sat coated in blood while the rest of the squad loaded themselves up into the helo. Saw him looking down at his hands, sweat gathering in beads on his forehead.

They saw what he did.

They saw how he did it.

Marc unnerved them. He was unpredictable. He didn’t always comply with convention. Didn’t always behave in ways people might've expected him to.

At first, he’d flown under the radar. Kept his head down. Done the work. At first, he’d simply been interpreted as stoic. Strong, silent, all that. A lone wolf. Guys like him -brooding good looks - could pull that whole thing off without much trouble.

At first.

But, there was more to him than that. Much more. And he couldn’t keep all of it hidden. Not for long.

Sometimes, Marc would go AWOL.

Sometimes, he would speak in different accents.

Sometimes, he would clamp his hands over his ears and yell like he was hurt, even when nothing visibly ailed him.

And sometimes? Sometimes, Marc did things which he didn’t remember doing afterward.

Always, you knew that he was afraid.

You knew that, because he was your friend. One of your only friends out here.

You’d always known there was more to him than what he let you see at first. The things he couldn’t hide from you. The things he could. Regardless; after, you had looked for him.

“Hey. Goldilocks,” your squad-mate Reaper had probed cruelly in the helo, a twisted, joyless grin on his face. He had jutted his chin towards Marc’s red, spoiled arms. “What the fuck did you do?”

Marc hadn’t answered him. Hadn’t done anything which could be interpreted externally, in fact, save for drawing his thick brows down over his fearful brown eyes.

Your stomach had twisted with discomfort, at his discomfort. He pushed everything down so far, you thought his insides must be made of diamonds.

“Why do you call him Goldilocks?” you’d asked Reaper one time.

“Because he’s a picky little Princess. Too good for this place, he reckons. Nothing is ever quite right for his highness.”

In the helo, you had batted Reaper in his tac vest with your fist. “Knock it off,” you had warned through your teeth. Tempers were running hot, but you were so done with his shit.

“Don't worry about it. He’s a lost cause, Cinders. With his record he’ll be shipping out of here within the month. Before he gets himself killed. Or worse. Before he gets someone else killed.”

You had watched Marc twist in on himself even further then at the insinuation, his body hunching protectively, hands drawing up to cradle his face. His brown eyes had swum with emotion, his reddened fingers tapping rapidly against his temples as he tried to shut this asshole out.

You felt a surge of protectiveness. You couldn't stop it. “You know what? Go fuck yourself, Reaper. Christ - somebody’s got to.”

After, back on the ship, you had looked for him. Looked for Marc.

You found him, eventually, sitting inside the otherwise vacant med bay. He was staring down at his now clean hands, still clenching them into fists.

You had coughed lightly to announce yourself, and gestured down to the space next to him on the bench. “Can I sit?”

He had nodded, and instinctively you’d kept your movements soft and slow. Your voice low. “What are you still doing down here?”

Marc took a while to answer, his brows knitted together so tightly it looked painful. “It’s quiet.”

The metal can of a room was stuffy. Windowless. Below deck. Just above the engine rooms. But sure - save for the constant background whirr, you guessed it was quiet.

You looked over Marc with concern, searching for anything you could do for him. Your eyes skimmed over the butterfly strips criss-crossing on his cut cheek. Over one split knuckle. His visible wounds had been treated, but there were deeper wounds left - you could tell.

And so, with a gentle exhale, you wordlessly gathered up a cloth from the supply shelf. You crossed the space, wetting it in the metal basin which hunkered in the corner of the room.

“Here,” you said softly, gingerly reaching to press it to Marc’s forehead, trying to soothe him. To smooth out some of the tension. “Does that feel nice? Not too hot? Too cold?”

His eyes closed, and he leaned his head back against the wall. “It feels just right.” A deep exhale had raised his chest. His voice had remained small. “Thank you.”

Good, you think. Good.

Next, you noted his clenched fists, and, thinking on your feet, you fished a small, round object from the pocket of your cargo pants. “Here. Hold this for me would you?”

Marc obliged without thinking. Just like you'd hoped he would. His fingers were rough and warm, grazing you as you passed it over to him, the weight of a smooth stone settling in his palm.

Unconsciously, Marc began to smooth his thumb over the surface of it. Began to roll it around in his fingers. Between his hands.

“Good,” you said out loud, as he released another deep exhale. This time, his eyes opened. Those big, wet, puppy-dog eyes. His thoughts had crept in. He seemed to grow self-conscious. “It’s okay,” you encouraged him. “Don’t stop.”

Marc continued to move the stone from palm-to-palm, his fingers exploring every ridge and texture of it. And meanwhile, you simply sat there beside him. You didn’t say a thing. You didn’t ask anything of him at all.

Eventually, you leaned back on the bench too, your head coming to rest on the cool metal wall, your eyes closing.

Eventually, his deep, Chicagoan voice bled through the hush. “What is this?”

You explained without looking. “I found it next to my boot last week during the raid. Thought it was a gem when the sun hit it. Turns out it’s a regular damn rock, but it’s still pretty anyway, right? Nice weight to it.”

You’d noted the way smooth objects found their way into Marc's palms. How they seemed to calm him. You’d picked it up for him. To give to him.

You’d never tell him that.

“What are you doing here?” Marc asked next, his voice strained all of a sudden, like you’d already gone to far too much trouble on his behalf. You felt his voice was angled towards you though, closer, and so you opened your eyes to meet his gaze with yours, dancing it over him. His wet cloth was now set aside, but his brown skin still sheened with delicate beads of moisture beneath the line of his buzz cut.

Your lips tipped into a vague smile. “What do you mean? In this room? On this ship? In the army?”

Marc shook his head almost imperceptibly - no. "Next to me.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Couldn't - completely lost in the soulfulness of his deep, beautiful, apologetic eyes.

He looked down at his hands again, as though they still had blood on them - even though they were clean. “I don’t scare you?”

“No,” you answered without thinking. Answered with your gut.

“Maybe I should.”

“Do you want to scare me?”

He shook his head. Parted his lips just enough to suggest the shape of the word. The outline of it. No.

You had noted the angry half-moons carved into his palm.

“Are you in pain?”

“No,” Marc answered without thinking. But you didn’t think that was really true.

“Discomfort, then?” His glossed eyes flicked towards you, as though no-one ever thought to ask him that. As if he didn’t know how to answer. “Because you don’t have to tolerate that, you know.? Marc’s eyebrows leapt up, as though he was genuinely surprised that tolerating discomfort wasn’t expected. As if it didn’t have to be a way of life. As though no-one had ever told him that before. Like no-one had cared enough to let him know.

“Why do they call you Cinders?” Marc asked next, his brows knitting again. You shifted, following readily with his tangent.

You hummed softly. “Well. Funny story,” you recounted with a lopsided smile. “I fucked up in ordnance training. Shot a barrel. Burned down a building. So now I’m Cinders, because while I may look like a princess, watch out! I’ll damn sure burn everything to a crisp, whether I was s'posed to or not.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

There was a beat. “At least they don’t call you Goldilocks.”

It hurt him, you realised. And you hated those self-inflated bullies just a little more than you thought might be possible in that moment. Hated them for hurting him. Anyway. You attempted to lighten things. “I dunno, Marc. Needing things a certain way? There are worse things,” you said in earnest. “I mean. Imagine being called Reaper. Your defining characteristic could be that you’re a killer and an asshole, huh?”

Marc blinked at you then, that pebble still turning over and over in his palm. Not for the first time, he looked genuinely surprised by your remark. “It… isn’t?”

Your stomach twisted into a tight knot. “No, Marc. No.”

He looked briefly hopeful. Then he looked immediately afraid. “What is my defining characteristic?” He batted his eyelashes at you, with zero awareness of what he was doing to you, of course. You had to fight the urge to answer “being pretty”.

“Well,” you began, unexpected nerves hampering your voice. “It’s hard to pick just one thing. But if I had to? You’re kind.”

Marc squeezed the pebble into his closed fist then, his jaw clenching. A lump bobbing in his throat. A smattering of jewels beading in his long lashes as he wrestled with whatever emotion you had just instilled in him.

You opted to go out on a limb then, your heartbeat hammering. Needed him to know. “You know. I always liked you, Marc.”

He turned his face away from you. Maybe fumbled away a tear, you couldn’t tell. “It doesn’t matter,” he said solemnly. With an air of resignation, and a crack in his voice, which quickly became a crevasse. “Sooner or later, you won’t.”

It broke your heart that he truly sounded like he believed that. That caring for him could only ever be short-lived. “Well," you had protested weakly, not knowing exactly how much difference it would even make. "It matters to me.” You reached out to him, gingerly, unsure, settling your hand over his balled fist. Your breath hitched. “I-Is this okay? Not too much?”

He looked down at his hands now. He looked at them as though he’d forgotten there was ever blood on them. His voice sounded a little hoarse. A little choked-up. “No. No, it’s…” He fumbled his words, settling a warm palm right on top of yours in return. Slowly, ever so slowly, he succumbed to the first smile you’d seen on him in a long while. “It’s… just right.”

Your chest constricted, in a happy way.

Good, you thought. Good.

“Uh. Listen,” Marc ventured. “You know I’m likely outta here. As soon as we dock they’re gonna wanna talk to me. They’ll have questions.”

You swallowed. “Did it happen again? Y-you don’t remember?”

He nodded efficiently, apologetically, his mouth turning down at the corners. He’d been yanked out for questioning before. For "evaluations". You were never sure whether he would come back. Your chest tightened again - this time at the notion of him being gone.

“For what it’s worth,” Marc offered next, looking up at you with gentle eyes. A self-deprecating look about him, like he really didn't think it would be worth much. “I, uh. I always liked you too, you know.”

Your breath stalled in your chest at his words. You didn’t want to ask the question. Not really. But, at the same time, you had felt compelled to ask. “Do you like me, Marc? Really? Or… Or am I just the first person to show you kindness for a while?” You didn't want that to be his baseline. He deserved so much more than that.

He squeezed your hand just a little tighter in his grip. You noticed that your bodies had gradually moved closer together, huddled in place. “Can’t it just be both?”

You chewed on your lower lip, thinking things through. Tossing a thought back and forth. “Listen. Do you maybe… Uh. Do you wanna copulate? With me, I mean?” Marc’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. You backpedalled a little. “I’m sorry to be so forward. You’re just… you don’t seem good with hints. Been giving you plenty these past few weeks and... nada. I really can’t get a read on you that way. so I thought... I just thought I'd say it out loud. Because I... I'd like it. If you wanted.”

His brows had drawn down again, and your heart was in your mouth. You wondered whether you’d said the wrong thing. But you wanted him - you had for a while - and you didn’t even know whether, this time, he would come back. If you would ever see him again if he didn't.

Besides, you thought about how much you would love to offer him a little comfort, if he would like that too.

Marc pursed his full lips together, his response wholly unexpected. “Why?”

Your face crumpled in confusion. “Come onnn, man. Do I honestly need to explain myself? Because… it would feel good? Because another of your defining characteristics is that you’re hot as hell, pretty boy?”

“No,” he shook his head. There was that crack in his voice again; widening. “No. I mean. Why? When I’m… I’m so goddamn broken.”

Emotions twisted in the pit of you then, and you reached out for him. Slowly, gingerly, carefully, you cupped his face in your sure palm. “No, Marc. You’re not broken. You just... You need a little help, maybe. Yeah?” He looked into your eyes then, deeper than he ever had before. Maybe deeper than he had ever dared to, and the embarrassment - following your rather brazen proposition - had begun to surge in. Your hands turned clammy in his grip. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. That’s probably the last thing on your mind right now. Forget about it.”

For a moment longer, Marc didn’t say a word; but still, his gaze never dropped from your face. For a moment, he looked like he was thinking. Passing a thought -or a possibility- back and forth, like that stone between his palms. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, his mouth had dipped towards yours, slanting against your own with the softest, most tender brush of his lips.

It was not too little, nor too much. In fact, it was just right. It was a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. That made your fingertips tingle. Made your stomach lurch pleasantly. His lips were warm, even in this cold metal room.

“I think that… I think I’d like to do that," he said finally, his lips flushed from kissing you. A nervous gulp had sunk down his corded neck. “With you.”

You had smiled with only your eyes, and had grasped his hand in yours. You had led him to your bunk, where you had tangled your bodies together, your limbs and breaths entwined. You had tried, so desperately - with your lips, your hands, your voice, your enclosing heat - to bed comfort down so deep beneath Marc’s skin that he would never have to feel discomfort again.

Still. Nothing good ever lasts that long.

In the morning, when your ship had docked, they hadn't let him stay. Marc was gone, before you even stirred. Before you woke to find the smooth pebble placed ever so deliberately, delicately in the cushion of your cupped palm. When you realised he was gone, your fingers had tightened around it instinctively, until they had ached. Until you dug angry crescents into your palm.

The rock reminded you of him. It had a hard, unassuming exterior. But it was still a beautiful thing, for those who cared to notice. A treasure in the right hands, you'd thought.

You wondered if Marc would ever be back. You didn’t know whether he would. But you were sure that nothing would be quite right without him. He was a little different, sure. But with him, somehow, you’d always felt like you fit. Next to him, you always felt like you belonged.

Besides. You never had been very good at being alone.

#marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marc spector

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strawbearytae · 2 years

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bad faith📎

“popular”! jungkook x underclassman! reader

genre: angst + hurt/comfort

synopsis: after stumbling out of your apartment when Miya broke the news about Jungkook’s return, you come across a familiar figure at the convenience store.

series: part of my papercuts smau

You walked aimlessly around in your pajamas and crocs, trying to process the revelation that Miya had quite literally dumped on you.

You weren’t running away, at least you didn’t think so, you just needed time to think. It wasn’t as if you hated Jungkook… but the news that he was in the same campus, the fact that you could potentially see him again?

That was hard to stomach.

You didn’t hate him.

But that didn’t mean that you had to be okay with meeting him… right?

It had been your fault. Partially. Kind of. If you hadn’t messaged him in the first place and did better research about his relationship with Miya… Maybe everything would’ve been… okay? You didn’t regret your decision, not really. You wouldn’t have been able to find solace in Miya nor developed the friendship that you had with your messy roommate if you hadn’t completely wrecked her relationship (though she assured you that you didn’t, you knew it was still partially true); you didn’t regret it. Really. Yet you still wonder at times like this how things would’ve been, how you would be if you hadn’t developed feelings for Jungkook.

You felt a surplus of emotions rise in throat that you had to fight to swallow down as you continued to walk. Comments, insults and insecurities that seemed to lie dormant for the last few months rose again with hellfire. Insults about your intellect, your weight, your body, your mind… everything seemed to add to the dark cloud that loomed over your every step.

You sighed as you surveyed your surroundings, it was the convenience store beside your university. Might as well buy a soju or something to ease your nerves (logically you knew it would do the opposite but currently you really didn’t give a fuck).

You brain continued to go into detail about every single feature of yours that made you even remotely inadequate: the little sac below your stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you worked out (of course it wouldn’t, that was your freakin uterus), the hair on your head that never wanted to cooperate, the shape of your nose, etc, etc.

And by the time you had chugged the rest of the soju you had been nursing and had your mask back on, you were thinking of Jungkook.

That motherfucker seemed to refuse to exit your brain.

You missed how you felt with him.

And sometimes you missed him.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

It was an odd feeling, to dislike and love someone at the same time so intensely. You loved the moments, the feelings and sometimes him… But it was always laced with questions. Did he think I was ugly when I snorted while laughing? Is that why he broke up with me? Was it how I ate? Was it my looks? My personality?

Break-ups without specific reasons were the worst.

You let out a loud sigh as heard a small “fuck” from your left. You looked over to the next table to see a lump of black fabric that loosely resembled a guy slumped over. He suddenly sat up and sniffled before checking his phone, whatever notification he got made him groan and slump down on his chair again.

“Jaegguk?” Your question seemed more like a statement.

His doe eyes widened, “Sunny?”

———

“Are you drunk?” You looked over at Jaegguk’s flushed face on the bench next to you.

He held up the hangover medicine that he had finished, “Was. Wish I was though.”

“Guess today sucked for both of us.” You slightly slurred.

“What happened to you?”

“My ex came back.” You shrugged not knowing that the very ex you were talking about was right next to you.

Jaegguk’s eyebrows wrinkled, “The douche?”

You nodded, “Apparently he transferred to our school.”

Jaegguk laughed, “Well your bad day beats mine.”

You couldn’t help but survey his puffy eyes (which did not seem like it was from the alcohol), “What’s wrong with you?”

“I deleted my twitter.” He shrugged.

“You wish you were drunk because you deleted your twitter?” You tried to raise an eyebrow at the statement but your drunken haze left you unable to.

“No…” He looked away as if he was contemplating even answering the question.

“You don’t have to answer. Not if it’s personal.”

“I know.”

You don’t know why made the simple two words made you blush slightly. How often did you say that he already knew it was part of the equation?

Jaegguk didn’t make any move that indicated that he noticed and stood up, “Want to take a walk?”

“Okay.” ———

The cool October air was proving to wake you out of your drunken state as you and Jaegguk continued to chat. Topics jumped repeatedly, starting at with your assignments to his guitar to your respective interests in high school to, eventually, your failed relationships. Jaegguk listened patiently as you explained the situation you had found yourself stuck in with Jungkook. Of course, you didn’t go into deep detail of him… just the way he had made you feel: insignificant, worthless, disposable…

“Sorry.” You muttered by the end of your story, rubbing your eyes away of your tears, “I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional.”

Jaegguk did not respond and simply leaned down while hesitantly bringing his fingertips to the edge of your mask, “Listen Sunny: You are worth so much more than the words of an 18-year-old frat boy.” His thumb grazed your cheek, you could feel it through your mask, “You are and always will be mesmerizing.” He murmured before slowly wrapping his hand around your head, bringing you close, “Don’t forget that.”

They were simple words and at the most, generic. However, coming from his lips they felt like a dose of cold water on the grueling sun that was your mind. They felt fresh and comforting.

You let yourself bury yourself in his chest, “He was the reason I started going to the gym, you know? I felt ugly. I didn’t feel like I was enough.” You felt him visibly tense against you, “but.” You pushed yourself slightly off him so he could meet your eyes, “Not anymore. Not now. Now I’m going for me.”

Your gaze went down to his sneakers before meeting his eyes again, “I’m starting to be slowly okay with who I am, maybe at one point I’ll love her again.” You thought wistfully again to the naïve 17-year-old girl that had giggled over Jungkook’s texts, “I think she deserves that. I think I deserve that.”

Jaegguk didn’t answer, he just pulled you towards him again before burying his masked face into your hair. ———

“It’s late.” Your teeth chattered, damn you for only slipping out with your pajamas in the middle of October.

Jaegguk stared at your shivering form before chuckling, “And cold too apparently.” He pulled off his black hoodie, leaving him in short-sleeved white t-shirt. You couldn’t help but stare impressively at his tattoos when you handed it to you, “Wear it.”

“You’ll be cold too.” You whined.

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not the one who’s shivering right now, love.”

Ignoring the pet name that slipped out of his lips that was very much affecting you, you begrudgingly accepted his hoodie. Yet, you were still shivering.

“How far is your apartment from here?”

Jaegguk asked, noticing your still chattering teeth.

You looked around to see the bar you and your gang frequented, “A-about 30 minutes I think?”

Jaegguk sucked in a breath before checking his phone, “There’s no uber that’s available in the area… you’d still have to wait at least 20 minutes for one to get here.”

“S-shit.” Jaegguk tried to hide his amusement at your simple reaction but ultimately failed.

He looked around the neighborhood again, “My apartment… I share it with one of my friends.” He shifted weight from foot to foot, “It’s about 3 minutes away. If you run.”

“Fucking hell, let’s go!”

Jaegguk made no move, “You’re wearing crocs.”

You looked down, indeed you were, “Oh, I can still run-“

Jaegguk rolled his eyes before he picked you up causing you to let out a startled yelp, “You must be an idiot if you think I’d let you break your ankle at 2 am.”

And with that Jaegguk ran to his apartment, carrying you bridal style in his arms. ———

“Do you feel a little better?” Jungkook asked piling on another weighted blanket on you on his sofa.

You let out an exasperated sigh, fishing your mask from the sea of cloth before pulling in back on, “If you give me another blanket, I’ll be flat as a panini.”

Jungkook froze before breaking a smile, “Glad to see you feel okay enough to make jokes again.”

You smiled before leaning back into the couch with Jungkook joining you. You snuggled to his side, claiming that he was warm when in reality skin was ice cold and in dire need of weighted blankets more than you did.

“Feel better?” He craned his head to look toward you, resting your head on his shoulder.

You could smell him even through the mask. “Yes.”

The moment was broken by the continuous dings of his phone on the table. Jungkook didn’t even spare a glance at the influx of messages that he seemed to receive. But you were able to see some. Scum. Go die. Fuck you. Manwhore.

Your face flushed red, itching to grab his phone and go off at the malicious texters, “You can get it-“

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, “I know who it’s from. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

“Okay.” You didn’t ask any further questions though you were dying to ask them or at least give the messengers a piece of your mind. Jungkook seemed to know the look in your eyes, “It’s my roommate. Well… some of them.

He kinda…” he bit his lower lip through his mask, “He accidentally kind of exposed me.”

You blinked, “Come again?”

Jungkook laughed, “Wait no… not like that…” He shook his head lightly, “Well, I’m not really in touch with most my high school classmates. My roommate is… he was a year ahead of me, so they don’t really have much of a problem with me… but with me…”

“They have a problem with you?” You quipped a brow.

Jungkook’s hesitation seemed to be an answer enough.

“Why?” You pressed.

“Because… Because.” He flexed his tattooed fingers, “I deserve it.”

You didn’t make a movement, you just stared at him. Trying to figure out what in the world the sweet man in front of you did that made his whole graduating class seem to be after him.

“I cheated, remember.” He said almost bitterly, “No one likes a cheater.” He shrugged, “I deserve it, really. It’s not that bad. It was worse at first.”

“How.” You demanded, “How is this better?” You motioned to the phone that continued to ding with hateful messages.

Jungkook shrugged as if you just asked him about the weather, “I mean I lost my scholarship after I got kicked off the soccer team…”

“What?!”

Jungkook looked away, “It was a long time ago… it doesn’t matter now.”

“You think you cheating as a stupid 18-year-old justifies you being cyberbullied after 3 years and losing a scholarship?!” You wanted to simultaneously slap some sense into the man in front of you and hug him.

Jungkook didn’t answer. He didn’t know if it justified it. He frankly didn’t care. Not really. Not anymore. His life was fucked up, he knew that, but he still felt guilty. He could never make right what he did to Miya, what he did to you. Taking the unfair punishments from others was a sort of payment in his mind to atone for his sins.

“I deserve it.” He muttered, trying to convince himself more than trying to convince you. Because he knew that the moment he realized how truly fucked up the situation was, the more devastated he would be. It seemed easier to blame himself for someone else’s malice than believe that they truly hated him.

If it was his fault he could continue on in his journey of self-loathing and delusion that the abuse he was facing was well-deserved. If he finally broke that… he would be faced with the fact that he was hated, and the hate was receiving was unjustified. It scared him.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I like Dramione?”

He slightly cocked his head to the side, “Yes?” It was almost like a question.

You didn’t look at him, you seemed lost in your own thoughts, “Even though Draco’s a bigoted, superficial, pompous and probably racist bully?”

“…Yes?”

You crossed your arms, “I like Draco Malfoy because from an author and reader’s perspective, he has so much potential.” Jungkook took a second to process your words, “Think about it, he’s a from an elite and very ancient bloodline with a questionable upbringing. Highly intelligent. Probably musically talented and very dedicated seeing how he created a wholeass chant for his housemates to sing just to piss off Ron. He was brought into a war as a child like everyone else, a pawn for two older men to use to their own disposal while watching his own parents fear for their lives in their own home. He bullied a girl just because of her background and called her slurs when in fact the Rowling confirmed that he only bullied her because he had a crush on her.” You shifted your gaze at him, “Problematic?”

Jungkook nodded, “Yes.”

You leaned forward to straighten your back, “So for this pompous, problematic, rich boy to ever become a likable male lead or at least someone worth writing about… he has to change. Somewhat.”

You continued, “He has to find the error in his original way of thinking and attempt to make amends. He has to humble himself to a level in which he realizes that blood purity means nothing. That he was wrong. For him to become in anyway a suitable candidate for Hermione Granger, he has to learn.” Your voice seemed to rise, “He has to pay for his crimes.”

Jungkook let out a shuddered breath.

“But.” You softened, “He also has to learn that he can’t change the past. The girl he loved would be the girl who was tortured in his home when he could do nothing but watch. He has to learn that nothing he could ever do could change that moment and he has to learn to live with it. And to still let himself love her and let her love him even though they both know exactly what happened that night.”

You finally looked at Jungkook, “I drew fanart for an unpopular and highly controversial couple because I think everyone deserves a second chance. He is horrible, prideful and a conceited bully, but he is still insightful, intelligent, cunning and loyal. As long as he is able to learn from his past and never commit anything like that again. As long as he strives to do everything in his power to make amends, he can change.”

You studied Jungkook’s dazed face, “You can change.” You stopped to think before looking back at a teary-eyed Jungkook, “In fact, I think you already have.”

25. bad faith🖊

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masterlist

a/n: thanks for reading! please remember to hit that rblg button as a pat on the head for me for a good job (•ᴗ•◍)!

synopsis: flirting with your crush of 3 years wasn’t something you thought of when first getting twitter, a nasty breakup wasn’t what you expected either… but why is it that after 3 years and loads of droning on self-improvement and trying to become “that” girl, your gym buddy reminds you of the one person you wanted to forget?

taglist❕

@epiph4ny @90s-belladonna @bubblytaetae @somelazysundays @flowerprincejin @silscintilla @hangsang-jh @vivisimpact @l7bangtan @bluxjun @mwitsmejk @vwinterr-bearr @xx-sikki-nixx-xx @haitani-22 @wrmnssoul @rjsmochii @halesandy @vicki1031 @peachyjk97 @therapysides @rinkud @pb-n-juju @teti-menchon0604 @jay-fireheart @bjoriis @fancycollectormoon @yoonabeo

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fae-iii · 4 months

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Vaporeon Timelapse (Sort of)

I saved what I had of my Vaporeon timelapse from the recycle bin and I managed to get it to work! I gave up on using the script at some point because it didn't seem like it was working and I didn't have much faith that I could get it to work, so instead of "Vaporeon Postmortem" this is more "Vaporeon Autopsy." (synonyms, but a little more visceral sounding, imo).

So, what happened?:

my palette is always 4 colors with no transparent because the Gameboy could not do transparency and we're being ✨authentic✨ and ✨professional✨.

white is treated as the "transparent" color.

no layer can have that color.

except the background.

the aseprite-record script flattens all layers to a single layer for export.

there is no longer a background layer.

everything that should be white appears transparent.

I just had to add back that background layer and it automatically applies to all existing animation cells. Also, white was removed from the palette all together, so I just had to switch back to my normal palettes that use white as transparent.

also any other palettes used in the timelapse had to be changed to one of my normal palettes (automatically changing all cells in that palette) and any cells that used other palettes also had to be changed (which would have fixed my Mienfoo animation, I might go back and fix that, maybe)

So there's some things I think are cool in this timelapse:

The head took forever to get done and I remember the body (except for the spine) came together much faster, so you're not really missing much here. I usually spend the longest on the head (or some small detail that's difficult to get right) cuz that's da moneymaker :3, imo.

Example: I draw the tail here and it looks so good that it keeps that shape even when the entire pose changed course.

Man, I wish I had the patience to figure this out earlier. It would've been cool to see my stuff from Vaporeon forward come together after this esp. the Halloween piece. Oh well, best time to plant a tree was yesterday and such.

The pose was originally standing. I didn't have a strong vision, but I knew I wanted to be able to swap it out for the Dissy alt head, so somewhat sleepy, but not asleep for the default Vaporeon so I ultimately settled on a sitting pose. That was my logic at least, I think maybe any pose would've worked, lol.

You kinda see the head pop in after I try to get it right and that's cuz I started working on it in a different file and then cut/pasted it into the main piece cuz I wasn't comfortable focusing on a piece at a time and it didn't occur to me that you can just turn off certain layers (like you see me doing in the Mienfoo timelapse).

Here's me workshopping the neck ruff and spine on a couple "scratchsheets" and you can see I was too sentimental to get rid of the rotated head fin that was ultimately scrapped in the final piece:

Actually, the head popping in might just be some steps I forgot to record because I think it's missing a lot of stuff from making the head fins as well and I remember forgetting to record some stuff, but idk where.

Idk, is this interesting to anybody, lol, or is this just kinda rambly? Maybe both! It's interesting stuff to me, but I really oughta be working on my next piece for Wednesday and sorting out… other stuff. So goodbye for now!

#Vaporeon #pixel art #timelapse #art timelapse

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sophieinwonderland · 9 months

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Hey, Sophie. Plural Nest recently released an announcement that they're changing their server to use parogenic instead of tulpa because of the "tulpa = appropriation" argument sysmeds have been campaigning for the last almost three years. What do you think about this? It's frustrating to see large servers fall to literal bad-faith arguments and rhetoric by anti-endos, so I wanted to know your take on it.

I'm not overly familiar with this but I share the same frustration.

From what I've seen from Eeveecraft's essay, it looks like only the language used by the mods themselves is changing and they aren't going to be banning tulpa systems... yet.

They likely will though. That seems like the next logical step. Especially as people keep pushing the anti-tulpa rhetoric. I hope that any tulpa systems in the server have alternative servers lined up for when this happens.

After hearing how they treated one of their founders, it sounds like the server is already lost, and people should be jumping ship before it completely goes down.

#syscourse #tulpa #tulpamancy #pro tulpa #pro endo #pro endogenic #endogenic #discord #plural #plurality #systems #system #real system

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hcavysoulss · 6 months

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* ◟ : 〔 PETER GADIOT, CIS MAN + HE / HIM 〕 SEAN FUENTES , some say you’re a FORTY YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both CUNNING and DESPECTIVE, one can’t help but think of HARD TO HANDLE by THE BLACK CROWS when you walk by. are you still a DETECTIVE for THE GOVERNMENT, even with your reputation as THE MAGICIAN? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and THE SMILE OF A MAN WHO IS ALWAYS ONE STEP AHEAD, A DIMLY LIT OFFICE COVERED IN NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS AND EVIDENCE, THE SOUND OF CUFFS SPINNING ON HIS FINGER AS HE TRIES TO FIGURE OUT THE CASE, although we can’t help but think of KLAUS HARGREEVES (THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY) + WADE WILSON (DEADPOOL) + LUCIFER (LUCIFER) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

✱ … loading for SEAN FEUNTES ! pinterest | playlist | threads | muse page.

tdlr ; // currently working on his bio.

sean comes from a long list of military men. his father and his father before him both in the army. sean was a troublesome kid and his father really had no faith that his son would stay on the straight and narrow. but, even with all the partying and chaos of teen years sean was able to graduate in the top of his class. showing his intelligence was form beyond what his parents thought.

sean joined the marines right after high school his whole life his family traveled until his father retired from the military. so, he wasn't going to just stay in one spot. not while he was young at least.. and the marines seemed to be the more 'fun' of all the branches. it really tested his limits.

but, sean being sean always was one step ahead of the game. he only served for two contracts before going into the reserves at twenty-six and moved back to new york to join the police academy. he wanted to do more than just travel with a bunch of meat heads and he got tired of trying to prove to his father he was the son he wanted him to be. so, joining the nypd seemed to be the next logical step. he passed his exams with flying colors and began to patrol.

only a year into patrolling he decided that maybe this wasn't for him... maybe he needed a change. he wanted to do something that made him think more. so, he enrolled to be a detective. it was an easy decision for the force considering his past military career and the fact he was just too smart. the problem they had with sean was how much he partied and his promiscuity with other officers.

that was ten years ago now... and sean has pretty much seen every kind of case come across his desk. the detective being who he is never seemed surprised. he would just make a sly comment and begin the chase of solving the murder or whatever have you.

somewhere in this time sean was married. it was the only serious relationship he'd ever had. he was in love with his wife, truly and completely. but, with his schedule... and his wandering eyes things fell apart faster than he could put them back together. for almost a year he threw himself into a drinking fit. trying to move on... but even to this day he isn't certain that he has.

sean is known for his eccentric personality and flirtatious attitude. he always seems to be able to talk himself out of any trouble he gets in. and is always on the look out for the person that matter the most: himself. switching sides on whoever need be to keep himself out the line of fire.

wouldn't call him a crooked cop... but certainly isn't a good guy all the time.

wanted connections // connection ideas

ex-wife ; my most wanted. this will be plotted further in the dms with whoever takes her up.

flings / hook ups ; lots of these. like -- he probably has tried to sleep with every single person in this group.

his partner ; i just-- i think it would be fun.

past job connections ; people on the other side that have helped him so he's helped them out.

his dealer ; my son has a habit and needs someone one to bring him snow.

current drag along ; aka the person that he is dragging along letting them think that he's going to allow things to be more one day but truthfully he just likes their company and enjoys sleepin' with them.

#lawlessintro #sean.

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bishop-percival · 9 months

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@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) The more Revenard Mike spot the lower Teddy spoke on the stepladder. He had tried not to hold out hope. Yet he was disappointed that he was still on his own for both of his objectives. Teddy’s shock at how close Revenard Mike came to giving him up– and confusion at why he was telling him about it– was quickly overtaken by rage when he messed with his helmet. This was a way to remind him of his place, wasn’t it!? Although that didn’t explain why he seemed so… vulnerable. Was it a ploy to manipulate him or was he being genuine? Teddy stepped out of Revenard Mike’s reach and glared as he adjusted his helmet. Then he found an old rolling chair and sat backwards in it so he could rest his head on the back. “Thank you for deciding to keep your puppet around another day.” His sarcasm was clear, yet the general message was sincere. “I’ll remember that next time I’m tempted to kill you.” A few minutes of stargazing was enough to settle Teddy down. “He’s getting arrogant, isn’t he? With the way he’s headed you won’t have to do anything but minimize collateral damage.” Then Teddy paused as he thought about the worst case scenarios. His main concern was Bishop Percival openly going after Bert regardless of his ant army and Commander Peepers’ protection. Logically that would be enough to keep Bert safe as long as Bishop Percival didn’t get close. He should try not to worry and trust that Bert can handle it. The Glornists were more likely to get destroyed. Teddy included, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself. If Bishop Percival ever found an accession ritual that required sacrificing his faithful followers they were toast. Or at the very least Shep was. Probably the rest too with how little regard he showed to Charlie and Owen. Teddy slumped forward and draped his arms over his chair as he said, “If Bishop Percival suddenly decides to invite every Glornist to a ritual I’m taking all my vacation days at once.”

Teddy's comment about being tempted to kill Mike flew over his head as he was way too accustomed to typical Glornist conversation to take it seriously.

Mike’s gaze stayed fixed on the telescope. “Well, Percival’s always been arrogant. He was just not always… this.” He couldn’t quite find the words to succinctly describe what ‘this’ meant. So he moved on.

“And believe me. I’ve been tempted to just sit back, do nothing, and watch everything unfold. But I think the collateral damage would be too difficult to minimize. I would rather look for preventative solutions…”

Teddy’s last remark got a small laugh out of Mike. He was going to say something snarky back, but got hung up on thinking about something else. He tapped his pen a few times on his notebook before flipping to a new page and scribbling something down. He started mumbling something about “rituals” until his mumbling turned into more coherent sentences.

“...But if I research past accounts of mortals achieving divinity, whether they be myths, tales, or actual reports… Learn about the processes, what rituals were involved, connect threads between accounts…” He confidently brought his fist down into his palm. “Then I could figure out ways to quietly disrupt and sabotage Percy’s progress before he becomes completely unstoppable!”

He jumped down from the stepladder and looked at Teddy.

“I remember already reading about some accounts, so I have a general idea of where to start looking. But I don’t have the time to read through everything, so I’m gonna assign some book reports for you. That shouldn’t be too hard of a task now should it?”

#stuckinuniformdevelopment #long post

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psalmonesermons · 1 year

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Holding fast to the profession of our faith

Hebrews 10:19-25

The world is changing fast today, and it often seems that the historical Christian faith is under attack from many directions and worst of all sometimes the historical faith is attacked from inside the church.

When the storms of life spring up, we can seem like ships that are tossed to and fro by the wind and waves and we feel that we are in danger of being shipwrecked. We must remember to hold fast to God’s word and his promises which are like an anchor to our soul and keep us fixed and safe no matter what the storms of life try to do to us.

Talking of 'holding fast' several years ago my son-in-law asked me to join him going on the the world's fastest roller coaster, the Formula Rossa [1] in Ferrari World, Abu Dhabi. I had to hang on for dear life, I lost a shoe, and my hair was standing on end. In hindsight this gave me gave some insight into what it means to hold fast.

What does it mean to hold fast to something?

“Holding fast” in the Bible means to hold your position or fix your gaze and not lose sight of what is true. So this means that our attention -and therefore our actions- are fixed on God. After that, we need to obey His instructions — which is really the next logical step if your gaze and heart are locked on God.

There are a number of scriptures that tell us to hold fast. The key scripture for this study is found in Hebrews 10:19-25.

Hebrews 10:19 Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus,20 By a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh; 21 And having an high priest over the house of God.22 Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.

God has made a new and living way into his presence for believers and encourages us to draw near to him confidently knowing that our hearts and minds have been cleansed from sin.

23 Let us hold fast the profession of our faith [2] without wavering; (for he is faithful that promised;)

Based on these wonderful facts, what must we do now? We must not lose our nerve but rather declare the hope that we hold in eternal life because that is what Jesus Christ promised us and he is completely faithful to his word. No need to waver, no need to doubt because We can trust Jesus, we can trust all his promises to us.

24 And let us consider one another to provoke [3] unto love and to good works:

The practical results of our unwavering faith and hope in Christ should be that we set an example to the Christian community stimulating each other to show love in action which results in Holy Spirit led good works such as charity, compassion, and kindnesses.

25 Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together [4], as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.

Another practical outworking of holding fast to our confession of faith is that we will actively encourage the believers to assemble and thus be mutually encouraged.

As Christians we need to know what to hold fast to:

1 Thessalonians 5:21 Prove all things: hold fast to that which is good.

Prove all things means don’t just accept everything you hear, test it against the bible, discuss it with people you trust. Once you believe something is true then hold fast on it.

Proverbs 4:13 Take fast hold of instruction; let her not go: keep her for she is thy life.

We receive instruction from the bible and from our pastors/ ministers, we need to grasp that which is good teaching and apply it to our lives for it keeps us living right.

2 Timothy 1:13 Hold fast the form of sound words, which you have heard from me, in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.

Paul tells Timothy to hold fast to the good doctrine that he had been taught by Paul for it was given in the faith and love of Jesus Christ.

Revelation 2:25 and 3:11 Jesus tells two [5] of the seven churches to hold fast what they have that no one steals their crown.

To the faithful remnant in Thyatira who had not fallen into Satan’s depths Jesus tells them to hang on to receive their great rewards. To the faithful in Philadelphia Jesus says he knows their good works , and that they have a little strength left , they have kept his word and have not denied his name.

Conclusion

The Lord is calling each one of us today to hold fast onto all that is good in our lives.

Hold fast onto the Lord himself.

Hold fast to the word of God in the Bible.

Hold fast onto all the good Christian practices that you have learned over the years.

Hold fast onto your own personal faith in Christ.

Amen

Personal Prayer

Footnotes

[1] Ferrari World Abu Dhabi for example is home to a pair of record-breaking roller coasters, and one of them, the Formula Rossa, just happens to hold the Guinness World Record for the World’s Fastest Rollercoaster — clocking in with a blistering max speed of 240 km/h and traveling 52 meters into the sky in just 4.9 seconds.

[2] Ellicott’s Commentary: Let us hold fast the profession/confession of the (Christian) hope (rather than faith). Hope here refers to eternal life as God’s children and heirs of Christ which we can rely upon since God is faithful to all his promises.

[3] Original meaning of ‘to provoke’ means ‘to arouse,’ ’to excite,’ or ‘to call to action’ our fellow believers.

[4] Hebrews 10:25 The most obvious interpretation of ‘assembling’ is ‘for public worship’ see Barnes Notes on the Bible.

[5] The churches of Thyatira and Philadelphia, respectively.

#christianity #bible study #bibletruth #blog post #blessings #psalmonesermons #faith #victory #hold fast #Hebrews 10:23

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fantasmalforces · 2 years

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@maximuses SAID: Can we get a fuckinnnn uhhhh ✨ + Three Card Draw + for Kimmy and Rayn

💜 Tarot Practice Meme // ACCEPTING 💜

The Star - Rayn

You are one with the divine. Your energy attracts positivity, as you dream bigger and with fresh energy. After recent turmoil or upheavals, you are in a good place to rebuild and look to the future with renewed hope and a sense of faith that everything will work out as it should. Keep an eye open for new ideas and new outlets to foster your own growth, and let your true self shine through.

// In terms of the way we discussed Rayn’s first meeting with Kim, this is accurate. Rayn’s been hunting this serial killer for years at this point because he’s responsible for Kennedy’s death and she’s thus far been unable to stay one step ahead of him. This new attack that Kim is linked with is the closest she’s been to getting an almost immediate lead on finally catching him. She optimistic and hopeful about the potential outcome of it, and her renewed sense of determination is making her seem more personable. It’s showing the truest version of Rayn - the version of her that is hopeful, and kind, and happy, and full of wonder and righteous sense of justice.

The Magician - Kim

The present situation is in your control. Cycles can be broken or changed, and new ideas can reach physical reality with the application of yourself – your success is created, not bestowed. Clever legerdemain can get you what you want, though it might appear to be tricks to others. A powerful representation of skill and dominance, the magician serves to remind your chosen purpose is also one that requires commitment – clear the field of play of distractions and focus on your goal. You have all the power you need, if you just dare to use it, in the furthering of your goals.

// From what I remember where the last season left off (and from what you’re telling me in DMs), Kim is taking matters of her life into her own hands at the moment. She has realized how strong and truly limitless she is. She is making her own fortune and creating her own success. She’s getting what she wants and she’s doing so in her own way. To others, it might seem like trickery or deception. But she is focusing her determination and commitment on her work and on her relationship - at least to some extent. She knows she has all the power, and she’s making the most of it to further her goals and expectations. he question is, will she fall because of her hubris?

The High Priestess - Relationship

There are great secrets to be learned, but you will be hard-pressed to make sense of them without also seeking a deeper understanding of the world around you. Clarity will only come by looking into the heart of things and embracing and trusting in the influence of a source of feminine energy. This is not a time for logic – secret wisdom of intuition to guide your way through the task at hand. You are surrounded by unknowns and change is a foot, and you might need to rethink the things you’ve held onto a certain tees. This is a season for subtle influences, not over messages. Tiny details can hold great symbolic significance, so look for signs to guide your next moves.

// Okay I got a juicy interpretation of this one. We talked about how their first meeting would be about them working together to find the true culprit behind the serial killings and the murder Kim’s client was framed for. In the process of helping with the investigation, Kim is inevitably going to get involved in the secret world of Mythics all around her - as well as the dark reality of what it means to live life in a post-war world. Likewise, Rayn will get a deeper understanding into the world of humans and what kinds of struggles and constant dangers they live under. They’ll end up having to develop a trusting relationship with each other and learn to abandon logic for intuition. Because after all, who can truly say why mad men do what they do? As they investigate, the world around them is going to change and they’re both going to have to make the tough realization that they need to let go of the idea of the world being the way they know it. They have to look into everything for a deeper meaning, both in their personal and professional lives, and leave no stone unturned. Every little thing must be explored and considered with a greater sense of significance if they want to keep moving forward and see the end of this trial alive. And who knows - they might come out of this closer than they expected what with all that “feminine energy” going around~

#// ooo this was fun~#{ open your eyes : ask }#{ we will rock you : mutual }#maximuses #{ the vigilante beastwalker : rayn }#[ Kim and Rayn tbt. ]

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anagramtransitory · 1 day

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3. People refuse against all evidence, literally all evidence, to believe in evolution, to this day, about, what, 160 years later? Something close to that. With the internet, people still refuse to learn things. With doctors that can do miracles, people don’t believe them. With scientists that can attempt just about anything these days from artificial intelligence already far too smart to be comprehensible to our ideas of how smart a thing could possibly be, from gene editing, to the most complex and slippery quantum theories and mathematics, to rockets that hit insane speeds to leave earth’s orbit built and launched without fanfare or any yet-unconquerable-struggles, people still actively hate and distrust science and scientists. The scientific method, the most trustworthy thing possible, they trust to give accurate results not at all. Not as a process, not as a profession. For many kinds of reasons, all of which can masquerade all they like as good but which all seem to me bad and false and cynical for rejecting the things which seem logically to me to be best in the world and about the world and made by the best kinds of people and efforts in the world. So therefore, understanding that about people, (even if I don’t forgive it) and wanting them to like and see me anyway, and wanting to make people happy anyway, via the positive ideas I embody in my life, I should…logically…be able to develop a system of thinking and feeling that allows me to do those “high cost low material reward” actions with an emotionally-less-attached + non-emotionally-dependent-priority-level style of going about and watching the results of them. I should and must be able to both not expect to have myself seen and understood, and to expect being seen and understood eventually. Because only repeated and therefore unquestionable positive actions will hold up to people’s reconsidering (and, next step, successive mental repicturing, hopefully simultaneously with the initial self-doubt of their idea of their understanding of me and not a discarded line of unpleasant self-questioning of theirs, which people will do as they hate thinking or questioning themselves very much) of my motives if and when they ever do after long long periods (decades even) of knowing me well. And because, I’m gonna have to believe, with some sort of insane faith, that I am special, and that unlike science and medicine and evidence and logic and obvious fact based on tangible everyday visible touchable testable available-for-mental-questioning continuous-existences of things making up reality for almost all people on earth, unlike those things, I will be seen and correctly understood in everything I do and am, by some non-insignificant (~more than 1/100) amount of people in my life, at all times, in the course of my entire life, based upon no evidence this will be possible or is likely. But also based around no evidence it’s not possible or likely either, as I’ve never been me in my contexts before and you never know how much a group of people will react to one person versus the way they’ll react to another. You just can’t. I just know how I’ve seen other people treated by most people, and they’re not seen or understood until they’re dead if ever (usually never). But I also know people so far have treated me far better than the populace treats, sat, Jesus, or beautiful harmless animals with one valuable part in the wild, or dogs, which are the purest good in the animal kingdom to ever possibly exist for us or just period in their social and attentive and adaptable and useful behavior and genetics and basic all-terrain-mastering anatomy for planet earth in all its variety and need for non-invasive small omnivorous ecosystem-helping mammals with non-actively-evil/predatory behavior patterns. Is that because I am large muscular and intimidating? Maybe, but I think it’s mainly because I’ve put good out and gotten good back in. If I am to appear as if I’m totally functional and normal and to appear at first to prioritize copying and assimilating chameleon-style w/ the time+place..

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stuckinuniformdevelopment · 9 months

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@bishop-percival

(Previous) Mike quietly wrote some notes as Teddy spoke. He didn’t interrupt once, save for a quiet scoff that slipped out when Teddy mentioned Miriam. Mike knew his sister wouldn’t be caught dead using her magic for someone like Commander Peepers. And just the thought of her trying to function in a part-time job outside of the church was rich.... Although, he really couldn't imagine himself doing well in one either, even if it was something that pertained to his interests. He rested an elbow on his knee and leaned his head into his hand. “Some of what you’ve described here isn’t too far off from how the COG used to function. Deacons at least were allowed to have a life outside the church. Some even volunteered to do odd jobs around the Skullship. But over the years, Percival became more and more controlling about the clergy’s doings. Just as he’s become more and more careless about his own actions. And as he’s become more and more powerful…” Mike removed his glass from his face and got out a soft cloth from his pocket to wipe it down. He was hesitant to speak out loud further about his concerns with Percy. But it was such a heavy weight on his mind that bearing it alone was proving to be difficult, almost impossible. It was only slightly humiliating, and ironic, that the only person Mike felt somewhat-comfortable enough talking about this to was some infiltrator who held mutual distrust towards him. After a pause, Mike replaced his glass. “Listen, I... accidentally let it slip that I learned of Percy’s true intentions. And when pressed on how I learned this, instead of ratting YOU out,” He leaned over and flicked Teddy’s helmet during the emphasized 'you', hoping it would make him stop leaning on the ladder, “I took it upon myself to lie and say it was me who was conscious during the last summoning ritual.” Mike fixed his gaze on the telescope. "My next moves have to be delicate. I'm one more misstep from being scrapped. Glorn knows I can't take him on."

The more Revenard Mike spoke the lower Teddy sunk on the stepladder. He had tried not to hold out hope. Yet he was disappointed that he was still on his own for both of his objectives.

Teddy's shock at how close Revenard Mike came to giving him up-- and confusion at why he was telling him about it-- was quickly overtaken by rage when he messed with his helmet. This was a way to remind him of his place, wasn't it!?

Although that didn't explain why he seemed so... vulnerable. Was it a ploy to manipulate him or was he being genuine?

Teddy stepped out of Revenard Mike's reach and glared as he adjusted his helmet. Then he found an old rolling chair and sat backwards in it so he could rest his chin on the back.

"Thank you for deciding to keep your puppet around another day." His sarcasm was clear, yet the general message was sincere. "I'll remember that next time I'm tempted to kill you."

A few minutes of stargazing was enough to settle Teddy down. "He's getting arrogant, isn't he? With the way he's headed you won't have to do anything but minimize collateral damage."

Then Teddy paused as he thought about the worst case scenarios. His main concern was Bishop Percival openly going after Bert regardless of his ant army and Commander Peepers' protection.

Logically that would be enough to keep Bert safe as long as Bishop Percival didn't get close. He should try not to worry and trust that Bert can handle it.

The Glornists were more likely to get destroyed. Teddy included, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself. If Bishop Percival ever found an accession ritual that required sacrificing his faithful followers they were toast. Or at the very least Shep was. Probably the rest too with how little regard he showed to Charlie and Owen.

Teddy slumped forward and draped his arms over his chair as he said, "If Bishop Percival suddenly decides to invite every Glornist to a ritual I'm taking all my vacation days at once."

#bishoppercival #revenard mike #Albertbutyoucancallmebert #Follwrshep #Eyeballcommander

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recipro-turbo · 1 year

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brother mine - year seven

Chapter Rating: G Chapter Word Count: 946 Chapter Notes: originally posted to twitter here. tensei is 22 in this chapter.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

Tensei had known this day was going to arrive at some point. He thought about it a lot back in high school, when Shota and Hizashi were too busy sending each other into gay panics to notice that he had been unusually quiet. The expectation that he would one day take over Team Iidaten was always there, weighing down on his shoulders.

He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

Some part of Tensei expected that the transfer of power would come years down the line, around the time he turned 30. Maybe that had been Father’s plan, too, but the knee injury he sustained a couple years back left lasting damage, even with Recovery Girl’s help. The fact of the matter is that Gearshift’s hero career had ended a while ago, and it had taken their family two years to really come to terms with that.

A tiny part of Tensei resents that. Maybe it’s because of the Iida family legacy, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s his father, but he dreads taking over. He doesn’t feel anywhere near ready, no matter how fast his response time (second only to All Might) or how well he’s doing on the Hero Billboard Chart (#21) or how beloved he is by the general public (fifth most popular).

Tensei sighs, scrapping the last few lines of the speech he’s supposed to be preparing for Gearshift’s farewell address. Progress is slow, and the fast-approaching deadline does nothing to light a fire under him. He wants to go for a run to clear his head, but he knows if he steps away now, he won’t come back to it tonight.

One week. Tensei has one week until Gearshift officially retires from being a pro hero. He has one week before he becomes the head of Team Iidaten. One week to finish this speech that he doesn’t want to give.

What would a world without Gearshift look like? To Tensei, it’s as if it was All Might retiring―it was unfathomable. His parents always seemed so invincible to him, especially when he was little. They were giants, untouchable, unkillable.

“You’re a smart, capable young man, Tensei,” Father had said when he broke the news to him a few months back. “I have faith that you’ll be a good leader for Team Iidaten.”

Logically, Tensei knows he’s good at what he does. He’s good at coming up with creative solutions to problems, he’s second only to Mother when it comes to Quirk assessment and team compositions. But he also knows there’s so many other heroes at the agency just as capable―if not, more so―to lead Team Iidaten.

“Are you okay, Oniisan?”

Tensei looks up from his laptop. Tenya stares at him, a concerned expression on his tiny face.

“Writer’s block,” Tensei lies. “Writing a speech is hard, little man. Easily the worst part of the job.”

That answer, apparently, does not satisfy his little brother. Tenya abandons his coloring book and pads over to the couch, taking a seat next to Tensei. “You’re a really bad liar.”

Tensei snorts. “Are all seven-year-olds this cutthroat?”

“Probably,” Tenya says. Then, after a moment, he quietly asks, “Is it about Father?”

“Are seven-year-olds supposed to be this observant?”

Tenya shrugs.

After a moment, Tensei lets out a sigh, slumping back against the couch. “Yeah, it’s about Father.”

He can feel his brother staring at him expectantly. Tenya’s a smart kid―way smarter than Tensei was at that age, and he’s not a bit ashamed to admit it―but he’s still a kid. He thinks long and hard, trying to find a way to explain what’s going through his head that won’t be so overwhelming for one so young.

“Do you remember when your Quirk manifested?” Tensei asks.

“Yes,” Tenya replies, raising an eyebrow.

“And you remember how, when you first used it, you crashed into the tree out back and knocked yourself unconscious?”

“...yes.”

“Father said it was because your Engines were just a little too powerful for you to handle on your own. He compared them to shoes that were two sizes too big―functional, but if you weren’t careful, you’d trip and hurt yourself.”

“Why are we talking about shoes?”

Tensei laughs, throwing an arm over Tenya’s shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s part of the metaphor, kiddo. I’m getting there.” His eyes go back to the screen of his laptop, staring at the unfinished speech. “You know being a hero runs in this family. We have a legacy―a respected one―and there’s a lot of expectations that come with that. Here, those are the big shoes.”

“You have big feet!”

“Not literal shoes, Robot Boy.” Tensei looks back down to Tenya. “What I’m trying to say here is that Father has given me shoes that are six sizes too big, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to trip and hurt myself… figuratively speaking.”

Tensei can see the gears turning in Tenya’s head. “Well… what’s wrong with what you do now?”

“I mean… I’m good at what I do, but… what if I’m not ready?”

“Wouldn’t Father have asked Mother to take over?”

“I guess.” Tensei sighs. “It’s a lot… it happened a lot faster than I expected, and I guess I’m a little scared I’ll fail.”

After a moment, Tenya leans against his side. “You won’t.” He says it with such conviction, Tensei can’t help but believe him.

“You won’t be alone,” Father had said, “Team Iidaten is exactly that―a team. You’ve worked with these people for years, and they’ll support you just as you’ve supported them.”

That’s it!

“You know what, Tenya? I think you just helped me get over my writer’s block.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #iida tensei #iida tenya #recipro fics #series: brother mine

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Can I request where the reader tells jean that they should break up. What would be her reaction when the reader is been secretly seeing some else? Yes. I'm here for the angsty. Pls make the reader g/n

Wordcount: 1268

CW: Yandere, unhealthy relationships, confinement, infidelity, physical abuse

The thing about dating Jean is that she seems perfect - beautiful, smart, strong and wholly dedicated - most people would kill to have a lover like that. However most people don’t know how torturous relationship with her can be - she is indeed beautiful, smart, strong and wholly dedicated, just not to you, as Mondstadt comes before anything, her health, your love and the little of time you two spend together.

How many times has she cancelled or simply missed your dates, because she was too busy? How many times have you had to look after her like a nanny after a toddler, spending days just cooking and fetching the littlest things everytime she tried to cut her life short by simply overworking? How many times have you begged her to finally take a break and relax, and assign a part of her duties to someone else?

You love Jean, you truly do, but you can’t be with her, not after what she had done over the years of your relationship, not after what you had done over the last weeks. It was an anniversary, you see, a big event that you both planned to celebrate, meaning you preparing everything beforehand and Jean being present for once. You did your part of the deal, working for a week in the row, just to make everything perfect and she didn’t attend.

Mondstadt needed her more than you, it always does.

You lost it.

Maybe it was the resentment slowly piling up with every disservice, every miss on her part, maybe it was the rage and frustration you felt in that moment, a week of your efforts and dedication rendered pointless.

Logically you understood why Jean did it - Mondstadt is a nation, full of people who rely on their Grandmaster and the Knights, you’re just one person, a person who knows that Jean is also human, who can get sick and tired, who overworks herself just to provide everyone with security they deserve, but her silent dismissal always felt so scorching and so cold at the same time.

And so you did something unforgivable - you cheated on her. It was easy to find an eager person who would love and worship you the way you thought you deserved it. The sensations of other’s hands upon your skin, of a mouth licking and biting and kissing brought you a sick sense of satisfaction - it was revenge. In that moment everything was perfect, you felt the happiest, most cherished person to exist.

The next morning greeted you with a cold realization - you did something unforgivable. Jean, despite her dismissal of you, was still faithful and dedicated, yet unlike her you were weak, you allowed yourself to succumb to petty hurt and slept with someone else. A giant wave of shame and self-loathing crushed all over you, threatening to drown your entire being - not even once you felt this despicable and disgusting.

You swore that you won’t cheat on her ever again the same day, not being able to look Jean directly in the eyes for the rest of the week. This oath however was soon broken - the same cancelled date, her missing figure carving out another small hole in your heart. It felt good - to be the center of someone’s world even if it’s just only a night long crude and laughable falsehood.

That’s why you’re standing here now: in the middle of her office, as Jean scribes something in the scroll with a feather. She doesn’t lift her head, writing one line after another, her whole attention focused on the piece of parchment on the table. You stand right before her, patiently waiting when she will finish, and only when you realize that it’s not happening soon do you allow yourself to speak.

“Jean”, you start, voice small and weak - she still writes, yet now lifts her head a bit, stern blue eyes now shifting between you and scroll: “[First]”, she starts not caring to hide the annoyed tiredness in her tone, “could you come back later? I have a lot of work to do”.

You stifle a burst of anger at the familiar, dreaded words: “I am afraid I can’t. We really need to talk”.

This prompts her to finally put the feather aside, her eyes now focusing on you: “[First], I know it’s hard for you”, you raise eyebrows, a spark of hope of her finally understanding how broken your relationships are igniting with a new strength, only to be snuffed out by the next phrase: “But I am pretty sure that whatever you want to talk can wait. Mondstadt never waits”.

You’re disappointed, both in herself and you for the dismissal and unfounded longing; you’re not surprised. Looking how Jean returns to her words, you decide to cut out all the unnecessary build up and blurt out:

“We need to break up, we really do”, her face shifts in the same moment morphing from shock to disbelief to sadness, as she quickly stands up, almost knocking down her chair in the moment: “[First], I didn’t know that.. I.. I am sorry”.

She quickly strides to you, her hands calloused from the fencing cupping around yours: “I.. Do you want me to do something, [First], I didn’t know that you felt so badly. Let me fix that, please”, she sounds so pitiful and earnest, a prick of self-loathing stabbing your heart. You’re the one who should be asking for forgiveness.

“Stop, Jean”, you yank palms from her hold: “I need to tell you something”, she steps up closer to you and takes your hands by the wrist again, her breath suddenly fanning the face. You bare yourself, swallowing the guilt and the lump stuck in your throat down - she has to know, she deserves someone better than you: “I have cheated on you, several times”.

Jean’s hold suddenly turns from gentle to crushing, as she squeezes her palms into tight fists, knuckles turning white. You suppress both whimper and pained expression and look her straight in the eyes: “Yes, that’s right, that’s true. I slept behind your back”.

“[First]”, begging whisper.

“I cheated every time you cancelled our plans or dismissed me”.

Slap.

Jean’s hand leaves a burning, angry imprint on your face. You don’t flinch from pain, welcoming it instead - you deserved, after all of the things you did that is the least thing she could do to punish you. The impact leaves your head slightly dizzy, a coppery taste of blood blooming on your tongue - you must have bit yourself when she hit you. You swallow the taste down, continuing to speak:

“That’s why we need to end things, you are deserving of someone more than just a whorish, unfaithful cheater for the second half”.

She gives you a cold dead stare when you end your line and for the first time you feel a pang of fear, never has she looked so terrifying, so devoid of her usual gentle compassion: “Shut up”, she explodes, her hands cuffing yours again.

“Guards! Seize [First], now!”

A shocked noise escapes you, as a pair of knights burst into rooms, knocking you down: “What are you doing?!”, you shout at Jean, eyes wide as saucers. She gives you a look, a mix of rage and pity.

“Don’t worry [First]”, she adopts the patronizing tone, it’s jarring to say the least: “Someone must have poisoned or manipulated you, I know my [First] would never say or do such things. Don’t worry I’ll find the perpetrator and punish them”.

You can’t utter even a word of protest with a heavy hand around your face.

#Yandere Jean #Yandere Jean x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin #Female yandere #Yandere x reader #Yandere #Jean #Jean x reader #my writing

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