#It’s hard to believe that this show is supposed to be about girl power

[froggiewrites]

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day. 

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so. 

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze. 

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always. 

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you. 

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric. 

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–” 

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as– 

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are. 

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven’t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel. 

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it. 

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together. 

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands. 

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay 

[stormiclown]

Is it just me or does Marinette have it worse compared to Adrien narratively and in the fandom?

Let’s go over the facts:

Marinette has two bullies while said bullies are rubbing themselves all over Adrien

Marinette is the one constantly embarrassing herself and tripping over a guy who barely acknowledges her

Adrien gets to put other peoples feelings (her bullies) above her’s, but if Adrien isn’t her priority 24/7 she gets bashed to hell and back by the fandom

Adrien is the one who gets to be akumatized and destroy the world, but if Marinette even shows the slightest bit of negativity she gets bashed for being ‘too emotional’ and ‘Irresponsible’

Adrien gets to ‘move on’ with Kagami and actively chase another girl with a mask and got almost no flack from the fandom, but Marinette actively trying to move past Adrien with Luka even though her secret identity keeps getting in the way gets her scorn from the fandom, her friends, and the universe bending over backwards to punish her for trying to leave Adrien behind her

Adrien’s jealousy can get excused but Marinette’s earned her a rival who trying to get her hero persona murdered

It’s alway Ladybug who has to deal with people hating her and trying to destroy her via working with a terrorist and having to endure them in her civilian life (Chloe and Lila) but Chat Noir is never on the receiving end of this

Marinette is portrayed as a jealous person who can’t change how she views people (despite her becoming best friends with Kagami, supporting her relationship with Adrien, and tried to get them together twice Frozer and Pigeon 72), but Adrien’s jealous destructive jealously is either brushed off or justified by the narrative and the audience

Adrien gets to be a bad partner to Kagami for no good reason,but Marinette’s struggle to balance out her secret identity as well as her relationship but gets treated as an even worse partner

Adrien gets to be a bad partner and throw childish tantrums but Marinette is somehow the terrible, irresponsible, toxic, abusive one

Marinette is always held up to unfair standards and expectations while Adrien has close to none both narratively and in the fandom

Marinette is the one bashed for not helping Adrien escape his abusive father (despite being 14) but Adrien is never bashed for not standing up to his father (his age is always used to excuse his passive behavior)

These are just the few I can think of off the time up my head but it’s pretty clear whose side the show is on. This is clearly a show that young girls should look up to.😘

Feel free to reblog and add more if I’m missing anything.

[jrueships]

the mayor of turkey trying to get people to vote alpey for Allstar 😭😭

[uh-mxtx]

Modern-au Binghe who inherits Tianglang-jun’s massive fuck off mansion with like 4000 rooms after living on the streets/foster system after his adoptive mom died (idk i just need him to have big house) and he goes “what the hell am I supposed to do with this” and Meng mo (cant be a demon here ive decided he’s a weird homeless guy who gives him advice. That or a schizophrenic hallucination) goes “fill it with women” and binghe who knows he is gay goes “no”

But then he hears some girls complaining about the safety of some of the campus housing/thier boyfriend or parents kicked them out/ect and he’s like “well, i can fix that” and offers his mcmansion up as apartments. He’s loaded so he barely asks for rent and he just keeps inviting women in hard times, like his mother used to be.

But his real calling is cooking so he keeps feeding his tenants and asking what they like. He’s got a youtube cooking/home ec channel and they’re his taste testers. And they start inviting their freinds over like “hey wanna meet our big gay himbo landlord who feeds us” and their freinds are like “boy do I”

Binghe is absolutely gleefull about this. More people to feed. Fuck yeah he gets to be housewife. The gossip sessions are unmatched. He ends up making a full banquet every night and you can either show up in your pj’s or a ballgown to match the decor.

And eventually all this snowballs and hes got a whole sorority in his mcmansion. and they casually call him husband/boyfreind/sugar daddy as a joke bc Binghe is JACKED and they can get rid of men real fast if they pull their six foot seven guard dog out of the crowd. For the sign off/video end the taste testers on Binghe’s show kiss his cheeks as thanks. Binghe doesn’t know half the people in his house. Some girl he never met (came out of SHL’s room and is COVERED in hickeys) just smacked his ass and stole a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t even react he just makes more. This is the best for his touch starvation.

And oblivious people(you know who) dont realize most of them are lesbians using him as a beard, (ignoring the makeouts and pride flags in the background of some videos) and they absolutely believe Luo Binghe seduced a crowd of women into a harem by the power of cooking, cleaning, and great sex.

Cough cough, Shen Yuan

[cherienymphe]

A Caged Bird (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, blackmail, stalking, abuse of power, hints of dacryphilia, slightly spoiler-esque

summary: Birds are best kept in a cage where one can see them...and where you know where they are at all times.

~

You thought that it was over when you won.

That’s what winning The Hunger Games meant, right? The psychological torture, the grueling conditions, and the fear that wouldn’t leave you until you finally left the arena was supposed to be over. You made it out through blood, sweat, and tears, and so your reward was to go home and reunite with your family and try your best to put the memories behind you.

Try your best to put him behind you.

So, why were you still being tormented?

When you first locked eyes with Coriolanus Snow, your first thought was how strikingly blue his were. Almost as if they weren’t real and had been specially manufactured in The Capitol for him, somehow. His hair, too, was just so much blonder than anything you’d seen in District 12, and again, you noted how so much about him seemed…artificial.

…but then he spoke…and the effect his voice had on you was very real.

“You don’t seem like you’re supposed to be here,” you’d said to him after stepping off of that train.

His response was expected, a charming chuckle leaving his pink lips, blond curls the perfect addition to his features.

“I’m not,” he slowly admitted.

The intensity behind his gaze whenever he so much as glanced at you was enough to make any girl’s heart race, and despite what you wished, you weren’t immune. He was beautiful—gorgeous as some of the other tributes and mentors liked to call him—and despite the initial intimidation, there was something about him that made you want to let your guard down.

…but he was your mentor…and a capitol citizen…and you were nothing more than his ticket to notoriety.

“Don’t you know who his dad was?” another tribute, one from one of the better districts, had said to you in a tone like you were stupid.

That was all the confirmation you needed, really.

…but he’d hopped onto the truck with you and gotten into that cage with you and brought you and your district mate food. He gave you poison to use against the other tributes. He wanted you to appeal to the audience so he’d have the funds to send you supplies. It was hard to decipher what was purely for show and what was just because he wanted you—and him by extension—to win. Perhaps, they were one in the same though, and it was impossible to have one without the other. Maybe it didn’t matter his reasons behind his desire to have his tribute win.

Maybe all that mattered was that you’d win.

…but that was when you thought winning meant you’d be free.

Coriolanus Snow was your best chance at winning, and so when the rebels rigged the arena, you didn’t hesitate to stay behind and save him. It wasn’t even a question in your mind because mentor or not, he was hurt, and you had to believe that that one fluke was not your only fighting chance. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that in saving him, you’d allowed freedom to pass you by.

“You saved me,” he told you, a gentle brush of his handkerchief under your eye to catch your tears. “You saved me, and I am going to get you out of here.”

You had no idea then that he meant out of the games…and to him.

It was that flickering moment of doubt where you wondered if you could actually win, and you recalled what you’d said to him earlier about believing you could, how much you needed him to actually believe it. Now, you were the one doubting, and he could see it, blue gaze flicking over your face and soaking in the fear and uncertainty, because if you couldn’t win…

You’d die.

A lingering gaze and a tense atmosphere, and you felt yourself pulling back, realization hitting you as to just what you were about to let happen. It was hard to decipher who overstepped first, but you couldn’t allow yourself to get wrapped up in something that was only ever meant to be strictly professional. Coriolanus was your mentor, and you were his tribute.

That was all.

You didn’t know then the full lengths he went to just to ensure your victory. How could you? You were too busy trying to survive, trying to fight off rabid tributes and teenagers driven mad with the sole desire to just live. It was all so unfair and angering, and you were sure that with less focus, you might’ve gone insane too. You didn’t have the luxury to worry about your eerily handsome mentor and whatever ulterior motives he might’ve had to see you beat this thing.

So, when you did win, all you could feel was relief. All you could focus on was your family and their faces when you’d ultimately reunite with them. All you could even entertain were thoughts of pushing this very real nightmare to the back of your mind for as long as you possibly could. Initially, you didn’t even notice that you weren’t immediately reunited with your mentor when they crowned you as the winner and got you out of there.

At least, not until you came face to face with him in your own district.

“I thought they’d killed you. I didn’t know if my actions had come back on you too,” Coriolanus told you in a secluded corner, the loud music drowning out his words and the cover of darkness hiding your faces.

Those beautiful pale curls were gone, and any thought that so much of his beauty relied on his golden locks was gone too with one drink of him. He was still the same handsome boy that mentored you, the same one who’d garnered the nickname ‘gorgeous’ among the other tributes. Up on that stage, you’d been thrown to meet a familiar gaze, your harmonious tune pausing for half a second as he met your shocked stare with an expression of his own you couldn’t place, pink lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

Any question of how and why he was here had disappeared as you registered his words. Confusion filled you as you stared at him, a slight frown between your brows as you wracked your brain for how that could possibly make sense.

“Why would they kill me…?” you slowly asked him, and you and the shadows were all that was privy to his confession.

The water bottles, the handkerchief, and the snakes—even the poison. Coriolanus had cheated to secure your victory, broken rules that plucked him out of The Capitol and dropped him here in your very own district as a Peacekeeper. The shock you felt that your victory was far from a fair one warred with the confusion you felt as to why he’d risk everything just for you to win.

If you’d lost fair and square—as you probably should have—there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be safely tucked away in the lavishness of The Capitol instead of lingering about in some rundown excuse for a bar in lowly District 12. If he knew what awaited him should his treachery be discovered…then why chance it? Nothing about your brief tutelage with him could justify what he’d risked and ultimately lost.

You wanted to ask him why, but something in you was afraid of the answer.

That almost kiss—a kiss you hadn’t thought about in months—suddenly came to mind, and even though you didn’t ask him why, something in you knew why even if you wanted to deny it. It was there in the dim lighting and rowdy atmosphere of some rundown building that every minor interaction didn’t start to feel so minor.

Every brush of his hand against yours as he reached for you, the unsettling way he seemed to watch you in that short time that you’d simply written off as concern for his tribute, and the ruthless desire to see you out on the other side of the arena. The kiss that never was only seemed like a lapse in judgement to you then, but in this moment, you had suspicions that it was very much intentional.

You swallowed, realizing that in that brief internal introspection, Coriolanus hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Did they send you to District 12?” you finally asked him.

You didn’t know what gave you away. Perhaps your tone, maybe your face, or maybe your eyes weren’t as secretive as you’d like to believe. Either way, something about your visage and demeanor gave the blond man pause, head tilting just a tad as those baby blues glinted with something you didn’t recognize but you know you didn’t like. He studied your face before coming up with the answer he probably thought you wanted.

“Of course.”

You didn’t know if you believed him.

…and Coriolanus could tell.

You’d played enough cat and mouse games in the arena—you never thought you’d have to play them in your own home too.

Starving off the affections of some boy in your district wasn’t hard or uncharted territory. Even spurning the forbidden advances of a Peacekeeper or two wasn’t unheard of, but Coriolanus was different. He wasn’t some average Joe turned cop. He was born and raised in The Capitol with a powerful father, and even though the man had been taken before his time, your former mentor still had been brought up with the kind of influence and reach and mindset that surpassed the average Peacekeeper.

They were followers—controlled by The Capitol and tasked with maintaining order. Most were no more than dumb brutes, mindlessly following orders without question, simple enough to be bribed and swayed. If Coriolanus’ actions had shown you anything, it was that he was not a follower. He did what he wanted and played by his own rules, and it was how you found yourself hunted by a gaze you thought you’d left behind in the arena.

Since the discovery of your former mentor’s presence in your district, you never felt alone.

Every walk to trade for food felt shadowed, every footstep home was accompanied with an echo, and a sweep of your eye over the crowd as you played an instrument or sang a tune was rewarded with a familiar blue one that made your heart freeze. You were forced to ignore it no longer when a single rose was left for you on the doorstep, your ma’s gaze questioning as she held it out to you.

You didn’t know where or how he got it, but you only cared about giving it back.

“I can’t accept this,” you told him, gaze steady but fingers trembling as you held it out to him.

It was raining, and the cover over your heads sheltered you from the downpour, but it did little to drown out the sound of it. Coriolanus simply stared at the flower for what felt like too long, making no moves to take it from you, and you swallowed. His blue gaze zeroed in on the action before it lifted to your face.

“…and why not?”

“Because I think it means something different to you than it does to me.”

Your response was swift, and you watched him sigh, eventually reaching out to finger the flower like he did that day before he’d proceeded to put it behind your ear. He finally took it, and just like that day before the games, it found its way behind your ear once again. The only change this time was the shudder that traveled down your spine, and the apprehension you felt when his gaze met yours.

For the longest time, the only sound was that of the rain, a few stray drops making it’s way onto your face and clothes due to the wind. If the man before you still had the locks you’d met him with, they would’ve been rustling with the breeze, right now. Both of you were very still, or maybe it was just you—nervous and fearful of how he’d respond. He briefly looked past you, eyes glinting briefly before they hardened once again, his pink lips pressed together as he regarded you.

“…and if it does?”

He continued when you frowned.

“Mean something different to me than it does to you,” he elaborated, and you blinked.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know…that I’m only standing here, now, because of you,” you slowly started, watching him push his shoulders back. “I won because of you, I know that, but-.”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, making your lips part. “You won because of me…and everything I sacrificed was to make sure you won.”

“…but I didn’t ask you to do that!”

You felt…cornered, somehow, because on the one hand, yes. You did owe so much to the man before you, but at the same time, what did you owe specifically? Your attention? Your affection? Whatever he deemed an appropriate compensation? When you saved his life in the arena that day, and he vowed to save yours in return, you didn’t understand the full ramifications of the deal you were agreeing to.

“I saved your life, and you saved mine, and I’m sorry for the things you felt the need to risk, but that’s where it ends.”

The cold from the rain didn’t faze you nearly as much as the heat from his gaze boring into your back.

You wanted to believe that your lack of confrontation was what led you to the predicament you found yourself in. After all, things between you two had held too many ‘what ifs’ and lingering feelings and questions. You liked to hope that telling the man in no uncertain terms that your relationship should never and would never progress beyond anything professional would fix things.

You never would’ve guessed that your bout of confidence would only prove to make things worse.

“My ma doesn’t even know any rebels, and you know that.”

You’d whispered the words so quietly, throat too choked up to speak any louder as you tearfully stared Coriolanus down, your words only intended for the two of you. Your back was pressed to the doorway as he stood before you, a foot or two of space between you as other Peacekeepers did their duty to search your house as thoroughly as possible. The reason you’d been given was suspicion of treason—to the shock of your ma—but both you and the handsome man before you knew the truth.

“One can never be too sure. It’s always those you least expect.”

His cool response only made you look away, a few tears escaping.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You won, you were free, so why did it still feel like you were in the game…except a much more dangerous one this time? You could feel his eyes on you as you watched man after man rifle through you and your ma’s things, your younger sister not home to witness this. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him take a step towards you—just one, but one was enough to make you flinch.

You still didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him though.

“Unbearable,” he quietly said. “…not able to be endured…or tolerated.”

You swallowed.

“Not to be confused with hard—requiring a great deal of endurance or effort.”

Another step towards you.

“To find something unbearable means that you quite literally cannot stomach it any longer. It forces a change to come, forces something to…give,” he whispered.

Your gaze was still focused ahead, but his words made you blink, made your heart sink, and you swore that he knew that.

“I can make things incredibly unbearable for you…and your family.”

You straightened at that, finally looking at him with a venomous gaze and a heaving chest. Coriolanus reached up to pick at your shirt, removing a piece of grass from it, and you watched him inspect it before turning his blue eyes back onto you. They lingered on your own eyes before lowering to your lips, his own twitching so subtly you might’ve missed it if you were anyone else.

“Or I can make sure you’ll be taken care of, looked after as if you were my own…” his gaze met yours again. “It’s entirely your choice.”

You two stared at one another for an infuriating amount of time before he let out a sharp whistle, telling the other men that nothing seemed to be here and to move on. His wording was not lost on you, and you crossed your arms over your chest. Coriolanus was the last to walk out, and despite the feel of his heavy gaze, you didn’t look his way the entire time.

Your ma commented on the strangeness of the whole ordeal, but nothing about it was strange to you. It was all very calculating and sinister actually, and while you grew up hearing countless talk of running away and living off the grid, you were never more tempted than in this moment…but you were not alone. Your ma was sickly, and your sister was too young.

…and if you left, you could only guess what you’d be leaving your family susceptible to.

Your future seemed inevitable no matter how much you tried to find a way out of the path set for you.

The first night you slept with Coriolanus Snow, it was storming just like that day you’d attempted to give him back his flower. You’d cried for a good three hours before, feeling helpless in the aftermath of another so-called inspection from Peacekeepers—this one much more destructive. The only light that night came from the brief flashes of lightning, and the sound of the rain drowned out the reluctant gasps to leave your lips.

Hands much softer than you ever expected trailed down your frame, curving over your hips and dipping underneath your thighs. The blond man’s lips rarely left your skin, kissing whatever part of you that came to mind, nose gently grazing you as he did and pulling shudders from your frame. It was a foreign feeling to be so heated and afraid at the same time.

Under the cover of darkness, his fingers intertwined with your own and his hips were flush with yours. The feel of him inside of you was much more jarring than you thought it would be, choked deep breaths leaving your parted lips as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts were slow, the complete opposite of what you expected, and you didn’t know if you liked that better or worse.

Every kiss felt wrong, like you were betraying yourself, but in the same manner, they also reminded you of that first day you met. You thought about when you stepped off of that train, and that smooth voice escaped those pink lips, and your stomach flipped no matter how much you pretended it didn’t. The person you were that day wanted to throw your head back and welcome the little nips he left along your skin.

The person you were, now, wanted to crawl inside of your skin.

This man had stalked you to the highest degree, following you all the way from The Capitol just to collect on the young woman whose survival he ensured. The things he’d risked and ultimately lost, he placed the weight of on your shoulders as if you were responsible to compensate for that somehow. As if it was your duty to make his sacrifices worth it.

When he pulled you into his lap, resting on him with arms circled around your waist, it was your turn to press your face into the area where his neck and shoulder met. His fingers dancing along your skin made you shudder, and that just made the tears collect more because you didn’t want to enjoy this, but your body and your brain didn’t seem to be in alignment.

When you were forced to come around him, you saw stars, and you were positive your nails left marks on his back.

You didn’t really think that no more trouble from Peacekeepers was worth the figurative collar around your neck. The abundance of food and supplies might have been, if only to just see the smiles on your ma and sister’s faces, but even then, when you found your back pressed to Coriolanus’ chest as he drove his cock up into you, you wondered if it was actually worth it.

Your ma would say no, that you knew for sure, but you supposed it wasn’t her call to make.

After all, the alternative was psychological torment and worst-case scenarios you didn’t even want to entertain.

“Would you have had her arrested?” you quietly wondered one night.

The sheet was clutched to your chest, and you were facing the wall, still unable to look him in the eye directly afterwards. You’d never been able to, feeling used and low and indefensible. You tried not to dwell on the feel of his fingertips tracing patterns into your shoulder, his cool breath hitting your skin as he exhaled.

“I mean…would you have…framed her somehow? Found some justification for it?”

You didn’t know why you were asking, certain you wouldn’t like the answer, and as you predicted, you felt your throat tighten the longer the silence stretched. Against your will—like many things you’d been doing as of late—a few tears escaped, and even before he answered, you knew what you were going to hear.

“Yes,” he confessed, just as quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, subtly wiping your face.

“I sacrificed so much for you to win, and not just because your win was my win…but because I wanted to see you win,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your back. “…because I wanted you.”

You knew that, but having it confirmed so plainly was disturbing.

“…and when I eventually make my way back to The Capitol, as we both know I will, I’ll still want you.”

Your stomach sank at that, and for the first time, you turned to look at him while still trembling in the aftermath of what had quickly become a nightly occurrence. His gaze was still focused on where your back had been, and when his eyes flitted up to connect with yours, you didn’t have the words to convey how you felt about what he was insinuating.

“In The Capitol, you’ll have access to things you could never even imagine…and you could send those same things back to your family,” he told you, reaching up to touch your face.

When you moved to sit up, he stopped you, a firm grip on your arm. Coryo—as he liked for you to call him—fixed you with a look that you knew all too well. It was the look he gave you when you tried to come up with any excuse as to why you couldn’t meet with him. It was the look you received when you briefly forgot the power dynamics here, turning away from him and attempting to push him away.

It was a look that told you not to fight the inevitable.

“I want you there with me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and there was so much conviction in his voice that the thought of arguing seemed legitimately draining. You simply stared at him, eyes glassy, and he stared back, waiting for verbal confirmation of what you both knew was going to happen, anyway. You had no choice in the matter, you never did, and for a brief horrifying moment, you almost wished you were a lone orphan who didn’t have to look out for anybody but yourself.

That thought did make tears spill over.

It was a horrible thing to think, but your loved ones were being used against you, and you knew that your ma—and your sister if she were old enough to comprehend these things—would never want this for you. Coryo sat up with you, a hand resting on your cheek as he gazed at you, a thumb brushing the tears away. It wasn’t meant to be comforting.

Nothing he did was ever meant to be comforting.

“I want you there with me,” he repeated.

You wondered what someone like you would possibly do in The Capitol.

“I don’t belong there,” you whispered, a poor attempt to get him to change his mind.

His response was swift and clipped.

“You belong with me.”

When he pressed his lips to yours, it was expected that you would kiss him back. His thumb brushed along your skin as you did, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat that quickly escalated into a groan. His free arm snaked around you, and your last attempt at resisting proved futile, so you let him lay you down.

Sex with Coriolanus was a maddening experience.

You didn’t want it, and your brain didn’t want it, but it was as if your body was its own separate entity running on hormones and animal instinct.

When he rested his full weight on top of you, you shuddered for a multitude of reasons—one of which you didn’t want to acknowledge. When he slid his hand between your breasts and down to your stomach, your back arched, chest pressing up and into his. When he pushed into you all torturously slow as he always did, you involuntarily held your breath, shaking at the feel of his hips connecting with yours, the length of him fully sheathed in your warmth.

You were terrified of him, so that was why you opened up for him like those budding roses he used to carry around, but in doing so, you made yourself vulnerable beneath him. You made yourself more susceptible to his kisses and his touch and that maddening voice that knew just how to get its way. He wasn’t a very talkative man when he was inside of you, much more content with letting his actions speak for themselves, but tonight was different.

“Look at me,” he whispered, curving his hips into yours. “Look right at me.”

You did, and while you didn’t know the specifics of the psychology behind this, you knew that looking into the eyes of your tormentor while in the act couldn’t be good.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he breathlessly told you, nose brushing against yours with every thrust.

You could hear that it was starting to rain again, and you pressed your hands into the small of his back, trying to ground yourself in some way—trying to have control over something, anything. Tears kissed your eyes, and you swore—you swore—that something in those blues of his twinkled. It sparked something in his gaze, and in his psyche, his thrusts becoming more powerful and making you gasp, nails pressing into his skin.

He only looked especially satisfied when the tears spilled over.

When he came inside of you, and you around him, you swore you saw stars.

You even thought you saw snow.

[watermelonsloth]

I think the reason why Naruto fans get so passionate and upset about the series is because of how real it can be. Naruto isn’t about paragon heroes outdoing dastardly villains. It’s about human beings fighting tooth and nail to survive in a world surrounded by death. It’s about broken systems made and perpetuated by broken people.

The Hyuga clan isn’t just antagonistic or pretentious, they practice slavery.

The Uchiha clan weren’t just killed by some raging psychopath, they were systematically massacred.

Itachi isn’t just cruel to Sasuke because he’s a bad brother, he’s cruel because he’d been told time and time again that you can only survive by being cruel and he wants nothing more than for Sasuke to survive.

Nagato isn’t trying to take over the world just for the sake of power, he’s trying to take over the world because it beat him down to the point of believing that the only chance at peace there is is the world being forced into compliance through fear.

Iruka isn’t hard on Naruto just because he’s a strict teacher, he’s hard on Naruto because he knows from experience how unforgiving the world is towards orphans.

Kakashi isn’t just some silly and slightly lazy teacher, he’s a contract killer still grieving his loved ones and struggling to do better without knowing how he’s supposed to.

Sakura isn’t just a fangirl, she’s a normal girl in a very dangerous and abnormal world constantly being made to choose between what she’s supposed to do and what she feels.

Sasuke isn’t just some edgelord, he’s a survivor who lost everything then gets repeatedly told that he has to choose between keeping what he’s gained and doing better than his brother.

Naruto isn’t just trying to be the best Hokage there ever was, he’s trying to prove his worth to a society that abandoned him just for existing and, in a way, confirm his worth to himself.

The Naruto story is about humans trying to force themselves into the role of weapons because that’s what they were told they had to be. It’s a story where everyone is a perpetrator but no one is trying to do wrong. It’s a story where everyone is a victim but no one is a perfect victim.

The world and the characters aren’t simple and trying to simplify them only takes away from them. So of course we get passionate about showing off all the reasons why they shouldn’t be simplified and all of the ways they’re complicated. Of course we get upset when we see others simplifying them or selling certain aspects of their characters short. Of course we get upset when the series itself simplifies them. Of course we get upset when the series chooses to abandon them. Because it not only feels like the characters are giving up, it feels like the series is betraying anyone who chose to get invested in its complexities.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Ryomen Sukuna getting on his knees for his wife

Pairing: Sukuna x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: For more than 500 years, you waited for your husband's return. When he finally shows himself again in Shibuya, he can't help but worship his wife the way she deserves it

Warnings: no smut but this is a tease y'all, language, violence, Jogo (lmao), this is just Sukuna hehe

You can’t help but smile to yourself, the intoxicating smell of death and agony filling you with nothing but joy. Oh, how much you long to finally see your husband again, to feel his arms wrapped around your body. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? A few hundred years, maybe more. They were too keen to keep him from finding a new vessel, to come back into your open arms. But you’ve waited.

A huff escapes your lips. And now is finally the time to greet him again.

Without gifting them a single look, you walk past all those disgusting humans begging for their lives, the floor plastered in crimson. Is he responsible for this?

“Such a mess”, you mutter to yourself, a shiver of excitement running down your spine.

It has to be him, without any doubt. When you heard about his awakening, felt the fear that ran through the jujutsu community, you knew it was Sukuna. Good that brat decided to swallow his fingers you preserved so carefully for this exact moment.

You stroll into the train station of Shibuya that radiates so much unpromising energy that it’s hard to keep your cool composure. Where is he? What is he doing? Surely, he has a masterplan in his head already. But where is he?

“You.”

With a swift motion, you pin the strongest curse nearby against a wall, staring right into his widen eye.

You. Jogo has no idea who you are and where you came from. But he didn’t feel your presence until know, wasn’t even able to see you with your movements being so fast. Are you a special grade curse?

No, you have to be way above that level – way above him.

“Who are you?”

“You’re not in the position to ask questions. Where’s Sukuna?”

That threatening tone in your voice along with the sheer power you radiate. You…You…

Are you the queen of curses, Sukuna’s wife?

“I’m…I’m searching for him as well.”

It’s a miracle Jogo was able to press out a response, given the way your eyes are darted towards him. There were always rumours about your existence, that the king of curses himself has in fact a wife. But no one ever saw you, no one really believes that someone like him would fall for something pathetic like love.

“Then go ahead. I’m waiting.”

But oh he does. Your sheer presence is proof alone. His feet carry him down the hallways of Shibuya train station by themselves, the frightening sound of your sky-high heels against the floor sending shivers down his spine in waterfalls. One wrong movement, one unthoughtful word, one change of mind and he’s dead. Wiped from this earth forever with a swift motion of your little finger.

“Why are you searching for him, curse?”

Jogo swallows hard, thick fear running through his veins. What is he supposed to do? Lying? No, the chance of you knowing immediately is too high. He can’t afford your resentment.

“I would like to ask him to fight on our side.”

A cruel laughter escapes your lips before he even finished his sentence, cold eyes glaring at the back of his head.

“Listen sweetheart, Sukuna doesn’t do things like favours. But you know what? If you manage to find him, I’ll talk to him about this. After all, you’re here to kill these jujutsu sorcerers, right?”

He doesn’t reply when it hits you with full force. The stinging presence you missed so much these last decades, the unpromising change in the air. You and the curse in front of you stop in your tracks at the same time, eyes darting towards two girls who kneel on the ground.

Above a pink-haired boy, feeding him fingers.

His fingers.

Finally.

“Get away from my husband, girls. He’s already taken.”

A little movement of your fingers is enough to shoot them right into the next wall while you make your way to the puny figure leaning against the wall.

“Take care of them, curse. I need to look after my husband.”

Your usual composed heart almost beats out of your chest when you come near him, the power vibrating through his body becoming stronger and stronger every second. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“Wake up, Mr. Drama. Your wife missed you”, you purr while placing your hand around his delicate neck.

Oh, the way his blood pumps through his veins, the feeling of his useless heartbeat against your tingling fingertips.

“I’m getting impatient, Sukuna.”

Your nails dig into his tender flesh until a trail of blood runs down his neck.

“So impatient…”

Suddenly, you find yourself pressed against the wall Sukuna was laying against just a moment ago, a hand wrapped around your neck.

And then you meet his eyes. The stone-cold red eyes that already caused so much pain, eyes that make every human cry out in sheer panic.

The eyes you longed for every lonely night.

“But I will forgive you. After all, I was gone for quite some time. Right, princess?”

“I’m not your princess”, you mumble against the force of his hand.

Your wrap your longing arms around his neck, pull him even closer, let him choke you even harder. Oh, you want to swallow him whole, want to feel him as close as possible. With a swift motion, you tear away the fabric that hides his upper body from your gaze.

“I’m your queen.”

Sukuna doesn’t waste another minute. His lips find yours. Longingly, passionate, so intense that you threaten to lose balance. His tongue re-discovers your mouth all over again, teeth nibbling on your lips so roughly that blood spills.

“Oh, how much I missed you”, he mumbles against your lips.

His hands roam around your body, hold your waist in place while he gets lost against your intoxicating mouth. The mouth he thought about all this time, the mouth that is capable of doing way more than talking.

“How much I longed to see you again.”

The king of curses gets on his knees, presses his head against your belly, cups your butt with his needy hands.

“Let me worship every inch of your body.”

“Just like you should for keeping me waiting”, you breathe out, a satisfied smile decorating your puffy lips.

“I will make it up to you, darling. When I’m done here, I’m all yours again”, he promises with low voice, still kneeling in front of you.

The world around you goes silent, both girls and Jogo staring at the scene in front of them in sheer disbelief. Is this the king of curses, kneeling in front of a woman and apologizing? This is absolutely impossible, almost absurd.

“You’re always mine, Sukuna”, you reply before pulling him up and getting a taste of him all over again.

“But before that, we should kill everyone around here, am I right?”

His breath caresses your cheek in sheer excitement, eyes soaking you up.

“That’s my wife.”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[inkskinned]

it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.

like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips

because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.

bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.

and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.

these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?

and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.

in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.

it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.

and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.

"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."

"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."

[biapascal]

I have a request pretty pls 🙏 could you maybe write a lil sumn about the reader/oc being married to acacius in a diplomatic marriage to prevent war and show that her country surrenders and they sent her as like a prisoner of war/hostage princess situation. the reader/oc loves Marcus but doesn't think he'd choose to love her over roman beauties and Marcus doesn't want to force her into anything bc of the politics. With like whole lots of yearning, jealousy, angst and oh, more yearning, and the delicious most happiest of endings pls pls pls

Hi honey! 🫶🏻✨ I hope this is enough 🪶

Duties

Tw: forced marriage, loss of virginity mentioned.

First, they killed your soldiers while destroying your city. You saw the streets you walked in your childhood reduced to ruins. The houses were graveyards. They have taken everything and everyone away from you, even from your family. When they brought you to Rome, you were apparently too pretty to be killed. You could have been a slave, but the emperors had other plans for you. You became the general's wife. As your husband, your life was his property as well as your body. In Rome, before the wedding, the girl is supposed to leave everything from her childhood home behind. You couldn't do that because you had nothing left. They took care of you on your wedding day. You had to be a pretty thing for your future husband, nothing more than a doll, like one of those you used to play with as a child. During the ceremony, Acacius was stoic. You were forced to smile and had the impression that he knew this, but couldn't tell what he thought about it. It was almost as if marriage to a beautiful woman was a duty and not a gift from the gods. You were then taken to the house of Marcus for the last rites that would lead to the loss of your dignity. Paradoxically, your husband should have cleansed you with spring water. Meanwhile, the thalamus was prepared. Crocus flowers, considered by the Romans to be a powerful aphrodisiac, were scattered on it. After these rites, you were undressed by an older maid, who also removed ornaments and jewelry that could be dangerous to your husband. you were naked, shivering, your eyes colder than your body. Your sight was blurry and you tried not to look at him. "Can we blow out the candles?" you asked the maid. She shook her head. "You have to see him, now I'll leave you two alone." You finally looked at Marcus and you didn't care that he was a trained general, you would never let that man deflower you. You would rather be killed than to have to carry his child. "Just kill me already, because you are not taking me tonight" you spat. He didn't react. You reached for something to cover your shaking body and jumped when you felt his hand on your arm. "I'm not going to take your virginity tonight." Your expression hardened. "Be a good wife, do as I say, go where I suggest, but know that I won't rape you.” He seemed so serious, you almost couldn't believe it. Then he also covered himself. "Now lie down” he ordered. You slowly did as he said. "Tomorrow they will ask you what happened tonight. Lie, tell them it was painful" you nodded, holding your breath. You fell asleep crying, but you were glad he didn't touch you. The next day, as expected, everyone asked about the first night of marriage. Lying wasn't hard, the other women believed you right away. Life in Rome was depressing. You missed your hometown, the way your people used to act, the typical food. You missed your family, the laughter of the children, your own laughter. Every night Marcus was aware of it and heard you sobbing. He knew it was his fault. The emperors wanted a Roman world, without borders. He was forced to kill and take things from people, but he was not used to it. With you he was gentle, you found yourself searching for him more than once, and you hated yourself for it. "Can I talk to you?" You were in the garden, praying to your ancestors. You nodded and he sat down. "The Romans are greedy. We don't want freedom, we want power."

"We?" you caught him off guard. "No, actually I don't care about power, but I don't expect you to believe me" you gave him a lame smile. "I have to do what the emperors want, and what they wanted back then was your city.” He apologized and you couldn't forgive him. But you felt he was being honest.

February came, the month of rebirth, the Romans had to pay homage to the god Lupercus, and you were still a virgin. the passage to adulthood and the fertility of women was celebrated. Rome was chaotic and several women and men approached you. It was clear that you wanted Marcus to be with you. You couldn't find him and were pulled into the middle of the crowd. He had always given you the impression of being a man true to his own integrity. But you did not know if he was in a brothel on this occasion. "The General's wife!" Two men grabbed your hand and you tried to free yourself. "Come on" they dragged you away from the crowd, and you begged them to let you go. "You should be used to this" one of them said. They were beginning to get irritated with your stubbornness. They were in a hurry to have a look at you and consume you. “Let me enjoy my wife” Marcus arrived. “Won’t you share her with us?” He kissed your cheek and shook his head. "No, I won't share my treasure." You felt strange, you really enjoyed that touch. After that night, you began to soften and you began to know your husband more and more. He was tired, he didn't care about expanding the empire, he just wanted to rest. He was kind to almost everyone, except the emperors. He was wise. He taught you about his ancestors, and you gained the courage to tell him about yours. The nights became your favorite time, you spent hours talking and learning from each other. This was your yearning for intimacy. One night you felt like there were other things you wanted to know, other ways to know him. "I have to be honest with you, Marcus" he nodded. "I'm glad you're my husband. You told me to follow your instructions, but what you have done these months is let me grieve, you have even protected me. Am I still a gift of war or something else?" He approached, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt your cheeks burn crimson. "No” he looked at your lips. "If I may, I'd like to kiss you." You nodded and then felt it. The fear was gone, the mourning was done.

[kikyoupdates]

Infatuated ⭑˚💌⭑ 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦

yandere!bnha x reader

yandere, reverse harem, bnha x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

prologue | story masterlist | next

After what just happened, it feels like you have to tell your parents about it.  

“Mom, dad,” you say. “I think I just got my Quirk.”  

They react by smiling brightly. “Oh, that’s lovely, sweetie. What kind of Quirk is it?”  

Now comes the hard part. Since even you barely know how your powers work, explaining it to them will be a nearly impossible feat.  

You furrow your brows. “Um... it’s kind of weird. Out of nowhere, I started seeing this screen with different stuff written all over it. Nobody else can see it, though, so that’s why I think it might be my Quirk.”  

Out of fear of getting in trouble, you decide not to tell them about the fact that Katsuki passed out after you used your ability on him. You already feel pretty guilty about it. For the time being, you just want to figure out how your Quirk actually works.

“A screen that’s invisible to everyone but you?”  

Your parents exchange confused glances. It makes sense that they don't quite understand, because under normal circumstances, Quirks are mostly hereditary. Children most often develop powers that are similar to those of their parents, or some combination of the two. But neither of your parents has a power like yours, which is why you were so perplexed when it first popped up.  

“Interesting,” your mother hums. “And you’re sure it’s your Quirk? It’s not just some game you like to play with your friends? It’s important to know the difference between real life and pretend, honey.”  

You nod vigorously. “I’m not making it up. I promise.”  

“[Name]’s a good girl,” your father insists. “If she says she isn’t lying, then we should believe her. Quirks are mutations, at the end of the day. It might be unlikely, but it’s still possible for her to have powers different from ours. All that matters is that she finally has something to call her own. I remember being awfully excited when my Quirk first manifested. It’s a big milestone, after all.”  

“Well, I suppose that’s true. Okay, then. In that case, we should celebrate,” your mother beams. “Our little girl finally has a Quirk! What would you like to do to commemorate the occasion, hm? Do you want us to order you some yummy food or take you shopping to buy something you like?”  

Your parents love to spoil you, and since you are only a little kid, you certainly can't help but capitalize on the opportunity. 

The day your Quirk manifests, your family treats you to a delicious meal and even buys you a little gift. You end up having so much fun that you briefly forget all about your initial goal, which is to try and decipher the specifics of your Quirk. You even forget about poor Katsuki, who is bedridden after suddenly fainting.  

It isn't until later that same night that it all comes back to you, thanks to a sudden notification. 

[𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞.]

You’ve just gotten into bed and are staring up at your bedroom ceiling when you see the message pop up. It showed up completely unprompted, just like last time. This has to be your Quirk. Nothing else would make any sense. Well, unless you're somehow trapped in an incredibly long dream, but that seems like a stretch. 

“Charm someone,” you mumble. You have to admit that you're a little nervous. The last time you used your ability on a person, they passed out. Will the same thing happen again? Also, why is it calling this a mission? It almost seems to imply that there's some sort of reward to be had once you complete it.  

There's really no way of knowing—other than actually trying it out, of course.  

When morning rolls around, you head straight for Katsuki’s house and knock on his front door.  

Mitsuki is the one to greet you. “Oh, hi there,” she smiles. “You’re one of Katsuki’s little friends, aren’t you? Thank you for bringing him home the other day when he wasn’t feeling well.”  

“I’m [Name],” you say, trying not to look too guilty, since you're the whole reason Katsuki fainted in the first place. “Is Katsuki feeling better today?”  

“He’s perfectly fine. I’m sure he was just tired and needed some rest. He’s eating breakfast right now, but did you want to come inside and talk to him for a bit?”

After you respond with an affirmative nod, Mitsuki ushers you into the house. It's your first time actually being here. It still hasn't been very long since you’ve moved into the neighborhood, and even though you often play with Katsuki and the rest of his friends, you have yet to visit any of their homes. 

You find Katsuki sitting at the dining table, spooning some cereal into his mouth. You're pretty much always thrilled to see him. He is one of your role models, and you can only hope that you'll one day be as confident and fearless as he is.  

So, naturally, you break out into a grin the second you spot him. 

“Katsuki!” you cry out, practically rushing over to him. “Good morning!”  

As much as you wish you could say that Katsuki responds with the same enthusiasm, that isn't at all the case.  

Instead, he visibly recoils, cheeks darkening to a deep shade of red.  

“Why are you here?” he huffs, sounding a bit annoyed. “I already told you that I was fine yesterday. You didn’t need to make such a fuss over nothing. And you even took me back to my parents? I would’ve been back to normal if you gave me a few minutes. I was just taking a little nap, that’s all.”  

Your shoulders slump. “Oh. I’m sorry. I know you’re really strong, Katsuki, but you fainted so suddenly. I was so worried I almost started crying...”

He doesn't snap at you a second time. Instead, he spoons another helping of milk and cereal into his mouth, still blushing all the way up to his ears. He appears to be avoiding eye contact, and you suspect that it has something to do with the fact that you kissed him yesterday.  

He doesn't seem to blame you for the fact that he passed out, though. No one really thinks you're responsible for that incident. They still don't even know that your Quirk has manifested.  

A part of you wants to tell him, but that would be the same thing as admitting you made him fall ill the other day. So, for the time being, you decide to keep your mouth shut. You want answers first. 

Katsuki’s glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you keep staring at me for? Weirdo. You’re being kind of annoying, so here. Have this candy bar. I was saving it for later, but you can have it instead.”

“Wow, really?” you gush. “Thank you so much! You’re the best, Katsuki.”  

He can't help but crack a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”  

You hang out with Katsuki for a while longer after he finishes up his breakfast. He gives you the grand tour of his room—which is decked out in a bunch of All Might merch and looks super impressive—and then you eventually take your leave.  

Before you do, though, you want to make sure of one last thing.  

“Are you sure you're feeling alright?” you insist. “It was really scary seeing you collapse like that. I just don’t want you to be hurt. I’d be really sad if that was the case.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You’re nagging me the same way my mom does. I already told you I’m fine. I can handle that much, no sweat. Didn’t I already tell you I’m going to become the Number One hero one day?”  

“Well... alright. As long as you’re okay.”  

You have a mission to charm someone, but you have no intention of using it on Katsuki again. If you end up making him faint a second time, it would seriously weigh on your conscience.  

So, you decide to approach your other closest friend, Izuku.  

Izuku is different than Katsuki. He's a bit of a crybaby, but that's only because he's such a sweet, honest kid. He tends to be more emotional than most, which just goes to show how much he cares about things. He especially cares about other people and making sure that they always have smiles on their faces. He hates to watch someone get hurt, and when Katsuki fainted, he was easily the most frantic out of everyone. 

Given his considerate nature, you feel like it would be okay to entrust him with the truth.  

“So... your Quirk manifested yesterday?” he blinks. “And after you kissed Kacchan and used your powers on him, he fainted?”

You press your lips into a thin line, feeling quite guilty with the admission. “Yeah. Please don’t tell anyone else yet, Izuku. You’re the only one who knows, because I trust you to keep it a secret. My Quirk seems pretty confusing so far, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with it.”  

“I-I promise to keep it a secret!” he reassures, nodding his head so fast that his curly green locks bob in place.  

“Thank you, Izuku.” You pause, not quite sure how to breach the next topic. “Um... there was actually something else I wanted to tell you about.”  

His brows arch. “Sure. What is it?”  

“My Quirk... it gave me a mission. It said I have to charm someone again. I’m not sure what’ll happen when I actually do it, but I want to give it a try and see how it goes. I’m hoping it might help me figure things out.”  

“Oh, okay.”  

Clearly, Izuku doesn't seem to understand where you're going with this, but once the realization finally sets in, a strangled little gasp catches in the back of his throat.  

“W-Wait!” he squeaks, flailing his hands in a panic. “D-Do you mean that you want to use your Quirk... on me?”  

You smile shyly. “I was hoping to, yes. I have to kiss someone before I can charm them, though. Would that be okay? A kiss on the cheek, like what I did to Katsuki yesterday?”  

At only four years of age, even just a cheek kiss is a big deal. Someone like Katsuki is normally unfazed by most things, but even he got incredibly flustered when you kissed him. You can only imagine how Izuku—the shyest kid in the neighborhood—might react.  

He’ll probably refuse. If he does, I should just leave it. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.  

To no one’s surprise, Izuku is already burning red from embarrassment. He’s taken several steps back, most likely out of pure instinct, and is now clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles are white as paper.  

“You want to k-kiss me,” Izuku stammers nervously.  

“Only if you let me,” you promise. “I don’t want to make you upset. It’s just that it’s the only way to use my charm ability, so... yeah. But then again, I’m worried that you might end up fainting too. Ugh. I don’t really know what to do...”  

Embarrassment aside, you can understand why Izuku might be afraid to let you use your Quirk on him, especially after what he just witnessed yesterday. He has every right to refuse, purely from a self-preservation standpoint.  

But he doesn't.

“O-Okay,” Izuku swallows. “I’m happy you got your Quirk, [Name]. And... I want to help. Y-You can kiss me if you need to. Even if I pass out, it’s okay. As long as I can help you.”  

He proceeds to squeeze his eyes shut, no doubt too flustered to bear watching everything unfold. You officially have his go-ahead, and even though you don't want to end up making him feel unwell, you aren't sure how else you're supposed to get used to your Quirk.  

Please don’t make Izuku faint. Please let him be okay.  

Drawing in a sharp breath, you slowly approach him. Despite the fact that his eyes are closed, he can still hear you moving closer, and he starts shaking like a leaf in the wind. You figure it's best to just go for it as quickly as possible and spare him the nervous anticipation. 

Blushing quite a bit yourself, you peck Izuku on the cheek, then hastily pull away.  

“I-It’s done,” you say. “Izuku, you can open your eyes now.”  

He does just that, although it takes him a while to actually work up the nerve. Eyes the color of emeralds slowly drift open, and he even lets out a nervous little hiccup, clearly mortified beyond belief.

“A-A girl—hic—a girl actually k-kissed me,” Izuku stutters.  

[𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮?]

There it is again. You now have the option of using your ability, just like before. You can't deny that you're a little worried. A power that makes people fall over unconscious is quite daunting, but you hope that things won't always turn out that way.

“Hold my hand,” you offer. “Just in case you fall over. I’ll catch you so that you don’t get hurt.”  

Nodding shyly, Izuku wraps his little hand around yours, then you finally make your selection. 

>>[𝐘𝐄𝐒]

It doesn't take very long for your Quirk to take effect. Much like Katsuki, he starts looking weak and unsteady. You hold his hand tightly, even loop your arm around his back to make sure he doesn't suddenly faceplant onto the ground. His breathing is getting shallower by the second, and if you thought the blush on his cheeks before was outrageous, it can't even compare to the one he has now.

“I feel... weird,” Izuku mumbles. Too weak to even remember his earlier embarrassment, he clings to your body as if he's holding on for dear life. “[Name], what’s... what’s happening? I feel... warm and fuzzy. So warm...”  

You fear that he's getting close to passing out. So far, it seems to be following the exact same pattern as before. Darn it. Is this really a mistake? Is coming to terms with your Quirk really worth doing this to the people you care about?  

Before you can ponder the moral implications of your actions, Izuku suddenly cups your cheek with his hand, then presses his lips against yours.  

Um?!  

It's a quick, chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. A real kiss, not just one on the cheek. You feel like your entire face is on fire, and it's safe to say that you’ve been momentarily stunned from embarrassment.  

And by Izuku, no less. A kid who would’ve never had the guts to do that under normal circumstances.  

“Hehe,” he giggles, appearing somewhat delirious. “I kissed [Name]… on the lips. Wow. Was I your first kiss? I sure... hope so.”  

He goes limp in your arms right after that.  

[𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧! 𝐀𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.]

Your body is briefly enveloped by a strange, pulsing light, and you swear that something inside you just changed. It's such a subtle change that it's probably almost negligible, but you know you aren't imagining it.  

Also, Izuku has definitely fainted. You are now responsible for having made two of your friends pass out.  

You shoulder the weight of his body as best you can, then let out a heavy sigh. “I need to get him back home as soon as possible."

Your Quirk is kind of like a game. Based on what you know about it so far, at least. If you keep on completing the missions the system gives you, then you will be rewarded by having your strength increase. It's like gaining experience points and leveling up. That's the best analogy you can think of. 

You don't like making people faint, though. After charming both Katsuki and Izuku, it's clear that the effects of your powers are perhaps too strong. You really hope there's a way to control it better. Maybe you're simply too inexperienced?  

“Hey, system,” you call out. “I’m still kind of confused about this whole thing. Can you please explain it better? I don’t want to make my friends keep fainting.”

You don't receive a response, so you figure it isn't an entity you can actually communicate with. It doesn't appear sentient, at the very least. It's most likely just there to give you missions and track your progress.  

Well, that sucks. 

You still want answers. Then again, nobody ever said that mastering a Quirk would be easy, and you’ve only just gotten yours. You suppose you'll just have to be patient.  

Out of the little friend group consisting of you, Katsuki, and Izuku, you are the first to have your Quirk manifest. 

After that, it's Katsuki.  

Since he has such a strong personality, it isn't at all a surprise that his Quirk would turn out to be strong too. He has the ability to create literal explosions from the palms of his hands. It's honestly incredible, and everyone in the neighborhood—as well as the other kids in the local preschool you attend—can't help but be in awe.  

Once Katsuki’s Quirk manifests, his personality starts to change, and not for the better.  

Eager to show off his strength, he starts getting in fights with all sorts of people. Most of them are other kids his age, but he even picks a few fights with those that are several years older than him. And he never, never loses.  

“Wow, Katsuki!” you gush. “You’re so amazing! I can’t believe you beat those guys up even though they were so much bigger than you!”  

Since you're young and stupid, you don't realize that in praising Katsuki for his acts of violence, you are actually part of the problem.

Katsuki sniffles, wiping away his tears before they fall. He got quite a beating during the fight, but in spite of that, he still held out until he won. “Obviously,” he huffs. “I’m not going to let anyone talk smack about me. It doesn’t matter how much bigger or older they are.”  

You haven't received any more missions since the day you charmed Izuku, but by now everyone knows that you at least have some sort of Quirk. Katsuki was skeptical at first, but even the doctor was able to confirm that your Quirk factor—which is what allows your powers to function—is located in your brain. So long as your brain keeps working, you have the means to interact with the system and use your abilities.  

The same can't be said about Izuku, though.  

He keeps waiting for his Quirk to appear. He waits and waits, and yet it still shows no sign of manifesting. All Quirks are supposed to manifest by the age of four, with no exceptions. You do everything you can to reassure Izuku that it's going to be okay, but no one seems to understand why he hasn't gotten his Quirk yet.  

Somewhere along the way, Izuku is labeled as Quirkless, and with his newfound cruelty, Katsuki makes sure to torment Izuku at nearly every turn. 

“From now on, we’re going to call Izuku Deku,” Katsuki chuckles. “Deku means someone who’s a good-for-nothing loser. It’s perfect for him, since he’s a Quirkless weakling.”  

You frown. “That’s not nice, Katsuki. Take that back. There’s still some time left. Izuku will get his Quirk soon, you’ll see.”  

“You need to stop defending him, [Name].” Katsuki sighs out in annoyance. “Can’t you see just how lame he is? It actually makes a lot of sense that he doesn’t have a Quirk. I always thought that he was weak. This is just how the world works. Right, guys? Don’t you also think Deku’s a loser?”  

The two other neighborhood kids that often follow Katsuki around, and who have since become his underlings, hastily nod in agreement.

“Deku’s a great name for him.”  

“It’s what he gets for being Quirkless.”  

Poor Izuku is already in tears, and you can't help but ball up your little fists in frustration.  

You like Katsuki. You really do. But lately he’s started acting like a real asshole, and you're honestly getting sick of it.  

“His name is Izuku,” you insist. “Don’t give him a rude nickname to try and make fun of him. Doing that is what’s actually lame.”

“[N-Name],” Izuku whimpers, wiping away at his misty eyes. “Thank you...”  

Even though you are friends with both Izuku and Katsuki, you know well enough to understand when something is just plain wrong. Katsuki is bullying Izuku, and it needs to stop.  

In picking sides, though, you actually end up making Katsuki even angrier.  

“You’re such a goody-two-shoes,” he spits, then uses an explosion to swat Izuku right across the face. His explosions aren't incredibly strong—not yet, at least, since he's still just a child. But they deal enough damage to hurt plenty, and Izuku’s little whimpers soon turn into full-blown sobs. 

Alright. You’ve officially had enough.  

“Come here,” you grit out. You grab Katsuki by the arm and pull him in, then roughly kiss him on the cheek. His immediate instinct is to freak out, of course, but he's mainly embarrassed, not angry.  

[𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢?]

>>[𝐘𝐄𝐒]

It doesn't take him long to quiet down after that. While you don't like making people faint and overall feel unwell, desperate times call for desperate measures. It's better than letting him keep harassing and beating up Izuku, in any case. You are choosing to incapacitate one of your friends in order to protect the other one.  

“Not this shit again,” Katsuki mumbles in a daze. He seems to fend off the effects of your Quirk a lot better this time. Perhaps you're starting to get used to controlling its output? But regardless, he still ends up collapsing eventually. You’ve effectively put him to sleep. Hopefully a nap will help him clear his head a bit.  

“Aw, man!” one of the other guys whines. “[Name] just used her Quirk on him. That’s cheating! You can’t just go around doing that!"  

“Nuh-uh,” you deny. “Katsuki used his Quirk to hit Izuku first. He started it. Carry him back home, please. He needs to be put into bed.” 

They make sure to grumble the whole time, but still bring Katsuki back to his parents.  

Now, it's just you and Izuku.  

“Are you okay?” you ask, worry lacing your expression. “I’m sure it probably really hurts to get hit by one of his explosions. I promise it’ll be alright, Izuku. I’m here for you.”  

Izuku nods weakly. “I’m fine. Thank you for helping me. If only I wasn’t so weak... then I could help myself.”  

“You’re not weak at all. And your Quirk will show up soon! I have a good feeling about this.”  

It's pure unfounded confidence, but you're only an idealistic child, after all.  

Strangely enough, though, despite the fact that you’ve just saved him from getting beaten up, Izuku isn't all that happy. He knows you have to kiss someone first before being able to charm them, but he still can't stop replaying what he’s just seen. The way your lips pressed right against Katsuki’s cheek... it's impossible to get it out of his head.  

Izuku is too young to make sense of his emotions, but he is experiencing ugly jealousy for the very first time in his life.  

It’s okay, he thinks. I got to kiss [Name] on the lips before. Even Kacchan hasn’t done that. And she... stood up for me. Because I’m important to her.  

In that moment, even the pain of being Quirkless isn't quite as intense as the fear of losing your affection to someone else.

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[burst-of-iridescent]

i've written before about how fire lady katara isn't an inherently disempowering or racist trope, as have many others, but lately i've been thinking about how arguments against fire lady katara often tend to utilise a surface-level interpretation of colonial trauma.

[edit: this post will use the term "colonial trauma" because those who argue against fire lady katara usually use the same wording or are referring to that concept. but it's important to note that according to show canon, the fire nation did not colonize the southern water tribe and zuko and katara did not have a colonizer/colonized relationship.]

antis who present this argument usually posit that marrying zuko would be a form of re-traumatization for katara, while marrying aang would "protect" her. katara is supposedly more shielded from confronting the impact of colonization in the southern water tribe or on air temple island than she would be with zuko in the fire nation, which contextualizes colonial trauma purely through the lens of physical interaction with the colonial power (ie. living in the fire nation or looking after the people of the fire nation). whether intended or not, this argument inadvertently limits colonial trauma to the geographical boundaries of the colonizing country and implies that it can be reduced or averted solely by minimizing contact with said country.

even leaving aside that we have seen katara in the fire nation (and enjoying herself there), the implication here is that active engagement with a colonial power as a member of colonized peoples is an inherent form of re-traumatization... which i take issue with for multiple reasons.

firstly, katara lives in a world that has been permanently shaped and changed by imperialism, and that's going to affect her no matter where she goes. sequestering herself in the south pole her whole life and never seeing a glimpse of fire nation red again won't allow katara to escape the legacy of colonization or the trauma it has caused her, because its influence is rooted in everything from her family to her tribe to her own bending. believe me, i understand the appeal of a world where women of colour can avoid reckoning with the impact of colonization by simply never setting foot in the colonizing country again, and why people might be uncomfortable with zutara individually as a result - but i can't accept it as a valid argument against the ship, because that's just not how colonial trauma works.

secondly, the idea that this "protects" katara reeks of paternalism because katara is not a character who chooses her path simply based on how safe or comfortable it is. if that was the case, she would never have left the southern water tribe at all! she could've remained there her whole life and likely been safe, since the fire nation had no real interest in the south pole any longer. katara is fundamentally defined by how relentlessly revolutionary she is - over and over, she chooses to do what is right, what is hard, what is unexpected, even at cost to herself. she challenges injustice and discrimination and bigotry; she fights for the downtrodden and speaks for those who can't speak for themselves; she will never ever turn her back on the people who need her. does that truly sound like someone who needs to be hid away and protected from her own supposed re-traumatization?

thirdly - and i fully accept that there are those who might disagree with this - katara actively choosing to engage with her colonial trauma can be empowering just as it can be traumatizing. don't get me wrong: as a woc and a minority in my own country, i understand how tiring it is to do this. i understand the exhaustion of confronting what was done to you and your people, of facing down bigotry over and over. i understand the desire to run away from it all, and why it can be wish fulfilment for others to let katara do so. i really, really do.

but there is also wish fulfilment in letting katara fight, as a brown girl with power and resources that few brown girls in the real world hold. there is a power fantasy in seeing katara head into the belly of the beast and emerging triumphant. there is empowerment to be found in seeing katara struggle with racism and ignorance and mindless hate to enact change - and succeed. i love reading and writing about katara unpacking her trauma regarding the fire nation, about growing to love the place she once hated, about reconciling both her homes and healing from the wounds of her childhood.

and ultimately, i think that's what katara would want for herself. after throwing herself head first into the fight against the fire nation, after facing down her greatest trauma instead of letting it consume her, after helping and protecting the people of the fire nation, after refusing to let the fire nation take anything else from her - i firmly believe that the last thing katara would do is allow herself to be ruled by the fire nation instead of being the one ruling it.

personally, i find that a more hopeful and victorious narrative than one where she remains safe and sheltered away from the fire nation, but forever haunted and dictated by her trauma. would that be realistic? perhaps. but the entire point of foiling katara with characters like jet and hama is to show that she's not doomed to be mired in the pain of her past. that where their stories could only end in tragedy, hers can - and does - end in hope for something better, as she always believed it could.

[luvlyycy]

this was supposed to be short but i got carried away my apologies.. alsooooooo <3 @seneon I REMEMBERED TO TAG YEWWW . girly girl x dirtbag dabi (real.) [also no smut in this but its suggestive]

you don't know how you got into this fuckass college with these fuckass people— there's the honor students and then there's the people your friends tell you to stay away from. one of those people is dabi.

you have to stay away from dabi. you know there's rumors about him selling drugs, not that you believe them— but he has a terrible rep. not from girls but from guys— girls fucking love him.

"hi dabi!" you exclaim as you enter his dorm room, skipping over to his bed, the skirt of your dress bouncing as you do so. dabi's on his phone, laying on his back, "hi, princess." he yawns, "whatcha up to?" he asks.

"nothin', is tomu here?" you ask as you sit next to him, kicking off your shoes with ease before laying beside him. you admit, following rules wasn't your strong suit, so staying away from his kind of crowd was incredibly hard. plus, they all treated you like a princess— what girl wouldn't like that?

he puts his arm around you, clicking the power button on the side of his phone to put it to sleep, "he's out buying food with keigo. jus' you and me." he smiles lopsidedly as he looks at your breasts- face, he looks at your face.

"you look pretty today." he hums, as his hand runs down on your back, tickling you.

you giggle, finger running along the tattoo on his cheek, "tomura was supposed to take me to the mall today. i guess he forgot."

dabi just stares at you, "you coulda asked me."

"yeah, but you're always busy." you huff out, nuzzling into his side.

he's busy unless you ask him to do something. he frowns.

"whatever, princess."

he watches you curl further into his embrace, maybe you were just cold.

"dabi. i've been soooo lonely these past few days.. tomura keeps bailing on me. keigo doesn't wanna hang with me anymore.. you're the only one who cares." you whine into his side, breathing in the smokey smell of his ripped black tanktop.

he always smelled good to you.

"oh yeah? what do ya want me to do it about it?" he laughs at your antics. spoiled brat. you always know how to get what you want— from tomura, keigo, atsuhiro, and even jin. tomura was the easiest.

"want you tooo..." you trail off, fingers dipping underneath his shirt to rub against his abdomen, "show me how much you care.".

brat, he thinks.

"aww, spoiled little thing can't function without attention." he chuckles out, leaning upwards so his other hand can grab your jaw, "right?".

you nod with a soft 'mhm', dabi says a quick 'right' in response. he presses his lips to yours, he feels your lipgloss transfer to his lips— getting smudged all over yours as well.

he pulls away to look at your cute face, always so flustered after he kisses you. "come here, on top." you obey, sitting prettily atop his lap as he squeezes your side— his other hand caressing your face, "so pretty. i'm the only one who cares about you so much." he's feeding into your little delusion, you know that, but hearing it from him makes your brain stop functioning.

he sits up, still holding you on his lap arms wrapping around your waist to hold you impossibly close, "i'm the only one you can count on. to give you rides, buy you clothes, make you food— i'm the only one, yeah?" you nod, "nobody can treat you like i can, can they, baby?" you nod again.

"come here n' kiss me."

"okay.." you sigh, placing your lips on his— his lip ring poking your lips but you don't mind. kissing him feels so good, it's like he knows everything about your body perfectly. he knows you more than he knows himself. his hands slip underneath your dress, settling on your ass.

he pulls away to look at you, "poor baby." he smiles.

you barely notice the door opening— keigo letting out an exaggerated groan, "honey, we're hooome."

tomura sighs, "i forgot to take you shopping didn't i?" he frowns as he steps over to you, tossing a bag on dabi's bed, only for you to cling onto dabi tighter.

"no! dabi's g'nna take me out now." you huff, nuzzling your face into the crook of dabi's neck, "right, dabi?".

dabi laughs when he sees tomura's upset face and keigo holding back a laugh, but he could never say no to you.

"yeah, that's right, princess."

[deadlyangelofpurity]

Honestly Viv is just bad at writing. I think she doesn't think things through in the long run and it's why the show is all over the place.

Also I think let's her fans have too much influence on her writing. It's why we have Vaggie being a fallen angel as that was initially a fan theory and the way it sloppily implemented in canon makes it abundantly clear this wasn't planned. Seriously, Vaggie was the best Exorcist and she somehow has not killed a child before but she changed her mind because of some demon kid? I find that hard to believe. Also she somehow didn't get that Angels could be hurt/killed...when she's an Angel and Lute gouged out her eye. If anything Vaggie should have knowledge given her experience.

Also I feel like Charlie got dumbed down from the pilot and became more woman-child like to the point it honestly feels like Vaggie is her babysitter. Charlie really doesn't need to be in a relationship and honestly Vaggie is barely a character, she's just there so people remember Charlie likes girls.

Like Charlie can literally free Angel and the whole conflict with Val feels unnecessary. Seriously Charlie did nothing for months whilst Angel is getting abused despite it being within her power to do something. It's not like she'd face any consequences, what the hell can Val or his friends do if Charlie asked for the contract? Nothing. And even if they could, she could always cry to Lucifer to go get it.

Speaking of which, Viv has this horrible tendency of making characters that realistically should be evil totally softies. Not only did she choose a terrible setting for this, but it honestly just makes things weird. Like we're having moments where characters are giving speeches not to overindulge or sexually abuse people and it feels like something I'd watch on a kids show. Lucifer was also clearly supposed to be evil but Viv can't help herself. She makes characters total pussies and it ends of making her setting feels dumb. Her version of Hell is quite literally Earth at this rate and she cares more about likability than interesting characters but she can't even keep that consistent.

[sansaorgana]

— DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (II)

PART ONE || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader (Celebrimbor's Daughter)

SUMMARY — Annatar manages to seduce Lord Celebrimbor's daughter but her visions might interfere with his plans. Unless he can make her believe that the evil her mother was warning her about is nobody else but Lord Celebrimbor himself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Reader's appearance is not described and her mother comes from a group of Elves that I came up with myself for the sake of this fic and its plot – the Moon Elves. I made Mirdania a bit of a mean girl here and idk I kinda feel bad about it but I also kinda don't lmao 🤣

WARNINGS — Reader's mother is dead ("madness" + suicide), manipulation, gaslighting, Reader has a vision / "is going mad" (she's basically Mirdania in this scene)

WORD COUNT — 5,190

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON (II)

Lady (Y/N) interpreted his forehead kiss as both, so it seemed – both the blessing and the sign of his personal adoration. Whenever Annatar looked at her now, she was looking down, shyly. He could hear her heartbeat quicken its pace and he had to fight very hard not to smirk.

In fact, he was seeing her more often now. She was finding excuses to visit her father in the forge nearly every day and Celebrimbor was too busy to notice that his daughter was acting unusual and strange.

One time, Annatar overheard two women gossiping about his new friend’s daughter.

“Lady (Y/N) seems to be quite fascinated with Lord Annatar,” one of them chuckled quietly, not knowing that he was standing nearby. “Did you see her yesterday? Bumping into him as if it was an accident… She is not an actress good enough to pull that off.”

“Oh, I did see. I do wonder what her excuse will be today,” the other one giggled and covered her mouth. “He is so kind and patient for not rejecting her already because she is starting to get annoying.”

“Well, she is Lord Celebrimbor’s daughter. I suppose he cannot just–”

“Please,” her friend interrupted her. “He is the emissary of the Valars. He is above Lord Celebrimbor,” she insisted and Annatar could hear jealousy in her voice. He knew her because he worked with her in the forge. Her name was Mirdania and she had a crush on him – as silly as it sounded but it was true.

He was trying to charm everyone but it was not his intention to bring the romantic feelings out of his every victim. However, sometimes, not everything was going perfectly well and according to the plan.

“I cannot blame her,” Mirdania’s friend added, sadly. “Lady (Y/N) has been in so much pain after her mother’s passing and her father has always been the most overprotective but also neglecting her because of his work. Lord Annatar is the very first man her father trusts around his daughter and who pays her so much attention.”

“It is not very kind to gossip about your Lord’s daughter like that,” Annatar decided to step in with his hands clasped behind his back. His smile was gentle but his eyes showed a bit of harshness as both of the women looked at him in terror.

“L-lord Annatar…” Mirdania bowed down. “Forgive me, my Lord, I… We…”

“We have so much to do and I am certain that gossipping is not something we should bother ourselves with whenever we get a free moment for ourselves,” he insisted, calmly.

They both walked away as fast as possible, ashamed and with their heads kept low.

Jealousy was an ugly thing, Annatar thought. Lady (Y/N) was the most special woman inside this city – half Moon Elf after her mother, with powerful blood inside her veins and her hands blessed with so many talents. She was also a daughter of the Lord of this city and she had the biggest amount of power out of all women there. Of course they were jealous of her but they did not fear her, therefore instead of admiring her, they were whispering such nasty things.

Annatar felt bad for (Y/N) in a way. She deserved so much better and he would give it to her. He was sure that she would never deny such a gift.

“Lord Annatar!” Her voice made him turn around with a wide and kind smile. Here she was, walking towards him with her skirts gathered in her hands and yet another excuse to spend time with him on that day just like the gossipping women had suspected.

“My Lady,” he nodded at her. “What has caused you to come here and bless me once more with the sight of you?”

Oh, how she loved those compliments and sweet assurances. She froze for a moment and looked away, flustered. Her breath was becoming faster and her hands started to tremble a little.

“I was on my way to see my father,” she lied, “but seeing you on my way is a blessing as well, my Lord,” she gave him a shy smile and walked past him, very slowly.

Annatar closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling her scent. Then, he grabbed her wrist and made her stop as he opened his eyes once again and met her confused gaze.

“Please, my sweet (Y/N), you do not have to address me so formally,” he insisted. “I am Annatar to you. No Lord.”

She gasped a little and then she nodded her head as her lips curled up into a wide grin.

“Annatar,” she repeated his name. Devotion and sweetness were so audible in it that he wondered how could she not be ashamed of them but perhaps she was not even realising it.

Perhaps she needed one more push.

He visited her once again in her chambers in the evening. Actually, he had been doing that very often these days as they talked and she kept revealing to him nearly every moment of her life. So innocently handing herself out to him on a silver plate.

She opened the doors without a word and nothing but a smile. She was no longer surprised by his visits and she had been awaiting him, it was obvious. Her workshop was no longer messy and the gowns she was wearing in the evenings were the most exquisite. Even the jewellery she was wearing – her own creations – were breathtaking whenever it was time for his nightly visit.

Their shared moments were of a nocturnal nature and they both preferred it this way although the reasons differed for them both. She was simply a half Moon Elf and he was the Dark Lord. Nevertheless, under the moonlight they both thrived and so did their bond.

(Y/N) stood on the balcony as Annatar followed her there, watching the moonlight dancing in the light that reflected upon her hair. 

“You are breathtaking,” he gasped and perhaps his reactions were exaggerated but he truly meant his words.

Of course, Celebrimbor’s daughter was a prize. And a woman of such power and such potential was an ally he wanted by his side no matter what. But still, with time, he grew quite affectionate towards her in the most genuine manner. Her innocence seemed to draw him in.

“Annatar, please,” she shook her head and looked away with a nervous smile. “Do not…”

“Why not?” He stood even closer as he put his hand on her arm. She flinched slightly, trying to get away from him but he stood behind her and even though he was gentle, now his body was completely over hers and keeping her still, making it unable for her to walk away without his permission.

“When you finish your work with my father… You will leave us, right?” She asked and swallowed thickly, fighting the tears in her eyes. “And what will be left of me then? I cannot handle another loss,” she confessed.

Annatar stood there still as a short silence occurred. He let her sob in his arms as he caressed her shoulders before leaning in to whisper into her ear.

“I would not be the first emissary of the Valars who chose to stay in Middle-earth because of a woman,” he confessed.

“Because of a woman?” She asked as she looked up to meet his gaze. She stopped sobbing but her forehead was furrowed and he realised that the word he had used was not the most proper.

“Because of love,” he fixed himself and raised his hand to wipe her cheek. Her tears felt like little stars upon his fingers in the moonlight.

“Oh, Annatar, I–” she gasped but he did not let her finish as he leaned in to join their lips together.

She turned around in his arms as he loosened the grip for her to be able to do so. Her own arms wrapped around him nearly desperately as her kiss grew more and more hungry. She would give herself to him right there, right now, on the balcony under the moonlight. And he would not mind that at all but he had to play the role of a pure and noble creature, therefore he took a step back, breaking the kiss.

“My Lady, we shall not,” he breathed out.

“Forgive me, I do not know what has possessed me,” Lady (Y/N) shook her head, embarrassed of herself. Still ashamed, she walked past him and went back inside.

He observed her. She felt so stupid for her behaviour that she nervously grabbed the small chisel on her desk and went back to some of the work she had abandoned throughout the day, trying to grind the piece of diamond laying on the table nearby.

Annatar leaned in on the wall as he watched her with a gentle smile. Her nervousness was making her look even more adorable but to witness her creation was as fascinating as watching her father.

As her skillful hands worked quickly, she suddenly hissed out of pain and dropped the chisel. Annatar furrowed his brows out of worry and found himself by her side in an instant.

“(Y/N), my darling,” he put his arm around her and raised her hurt hand up as he glanced upon the precious blood leaking out of the fresh wound. “You ought to be more careful, my sweet,” he swallowed thickly and even though he wanted to look into her eyes while saying those words, he couldn’t stop staring at the red liquid staining more and more of her hand.

“I just… I do not know what to think of all of this. Who am I for you to forsake the Valars for me?” Her eyes filled with tears and this finally made him look up to meet her gaze.

“Who are you?” Annatar asked gently and cupped her face. “The grandest of the Elven maidens, Lady (Y/N) of Eregion, creator of the most beautiful artistry that is admired in all the realms. Daughter of Lord Celebrimbor and Lady Dúlinnel, granddaughter of Lord Commander Nillendur. The very last Moon Elf of Middle-earth,” he spoke these things with all confidence and devotion as she kept blinking her tears away and staring at him.

“And what is all of this to a man like you?” She asked, still unsure.

“You are everything to me,” he whispered, joining their lips together once more.

Celebrimbor was in his study. It was late at night as he liked to work in silence and solitude. He was looking through the pages full of drawings and projects when he heard the doors creaking and then the footsteps.

“Who is it?” He asked as he stood up to approach the railing of the stairs leading up to his study from the forge.

“It is only I,” Lady (Y/N) smiled at him as she walked inside but then another person walked right after.

“And I,” Lord Annatar announced his arrival.

“Oh, I see,” Celebrimbor did not mind their presence out of all people. In fact, they were the closest to him. Therefore, he went back to his desk and his papers.

But when Annatar and (Y/N) stood above him, arm to arm, he raised an eyebrow at them, curiously.

“What is it again?” He sighed a little, expecting them both to try to talk him into doing something or to stop him from doing something. These past few weeks, they had become quite close and (Y/N) often accompanied Annatar when he was trying to convince her father to his ideas.

“My dear friend, we have come here with nothing but our love for you in our hearts… And a hope that you would choose to bless us,” Annatar spoke softly as (Y/N) only stood there. It was her idea that he should be the one to speak because his words were like honey.

“Bless you in what?” Celebrimbor asked, confused.

“I wish to make your sweet and precious daughter my wife,” Annatar announced softly as his lips curled up into a smile. (Y/N) held her breath, watching her father’s reaction closely.

And there was a lot to watch – Celebrimbor’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked around only to lay their eyes upon them once more. His face went a shade paler and he was visibly shocked.

“But… That would mean that…” He could not find the right words.

“That would mean that I would choose to stay in this form and live the rest of my days in Middle-earth alongside your daughter, yes,” Annatar nodded and (Y/N) looked up at him lovingly. “I am aware of the consequences of my choice, however the Valars would never go against love so pure and they have already blessed us themselves,” he lied so beautifully and (Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears at those words.

“Well, if the Gods themselves have blessed you, I cannot say no,” the Lord of Eregion chuckled nervously as he laid his eyes upon his daughter. “My darling, are you sure?” He asked, a little nervously.

“What do you mean, father?” She gasped, wrapping her hands around Annatar’s arm.

“I mean… It is rather quick…” He tried to make a reasonable excuse for his slight suspicions.

“You fell in love with my mother the moment you saw her, did you not?” (Y/N) reminded him in a gentle voice and Celebrimbor smiled at that sadly as he looked away.

He remembered the very first time he had seen his future wife – bathing in the moonlight on her balcony. She had not seen him but he spotted her, on the highest tower of one of the most beautiful mountain cities of her kin.

“Yes, I did,” he nodded and looked up at Annatar and (Y/N) again. “I bless you. It is an honour to give my daughter to a man like you, Lord of Gifts,” he smiled at his new friend and Annatar smiled back. “I shall throw you a feast to announce the betrothal,” he announced happily and his daughter’s eyes sparkled a little, too.

“My friend, please, do not,” Annatar winced as both Celebrimbor and (Y/N) froze slightly. “This is not a proper time to throw feasts for it is a privilege to be able to celebrate anything when so many people suffer now in Mordor,” Annatar reminded them. “I am of a humble nature, too, I do not require such festivities. Your daughter’s love is all I need and I am aware she prefers peace and solitude as well,” he looked down at (Y/N) and she cracked an affectionate smile at him.

“I understand,” Celebrimbor nodded. “And when do you wish to be wed? In a year as the custom says?”

“Perhaps sooner. When the Rings are forged and we can all truly celebrate,” Annatar proposed.

Surprisingly, despite his friend’s surprised expression, there was no audible protest.

“Dwarves and Elves working together. It was said to be impossible, but our cooperation has achieved this wonder,” Celebrimbor spoke from the top of the stairs to the gathered Dwarves on his left and the Elves on his right. And in front of him, with their own goblets of wine, stood Lord Annatar and Lady (Y/N), wearing each other’s silver rings now. “And today, we embark upon a new dream, to enshrine our friendship in stone,” he glanced upon his friend and daughter.

Lady (Y/N) reached out to squeeze Annatar’s forearm and he looked down at her with an affectionate smile.

“Narvi?” Celebrimbor addressed one of the Dwarves and walked down to join the rest.

“Behold!” Narvi announced as he stepped out and grabbed the rope on the ground to pull it and reveal Celebrmibor’s new work of art. “The Doors of Durin!” The Dwarf introduced the beautifully carved doors made of stone. “The new West-gate of our mountain. Unbreachable. Visible only by moonlight and guarded by a password known only to friends.”

“It is a craft my father has learnt from my mother’s kin,” Lady (Y/N) whispered to Annatar and he smiled softly at her. Her eyes sparkled as she mentioned that, remembering the love her parents had shared.

Truly believing that her own would be the same.

But as her father chatted and kept making lighthearted jokes, Annatar pretended to be not impressed as he moved away. (Y/N) tried to stop him but he shook her hand off.

“I need some air,” he told her and when she furrowed her brows and wanted to follow him, he turned around to stop her. “Please, I want to be alone. I shall come to you later,” he told her.

He knew that the conversation he would have with Celebrimbor now would not be of the nicest kind, therefore he did not want her to witness it.

“If that is your wish,” (Y/N) looked down and he could sense that she felt rejected, so he grabbed her wrist to hold it lovingly.

“I am not angry with you, my love. It is the burdens of far greater matters than the two of us that I have to carry,” he explained.

“I am aware,” she nodded, relaxing her muscles. She nodded at him with a shy smile. “I shall retire to my chambers and wait for your visit.”

And so she did but when he came back to her, his mood was somehow even worse and she only watched with terror as he kept talking to her about her father’s stubbornness when it came to the Rings for men.

“Was he not lying to the High King himself about the Rings for the Dwarves, defending them?” (Y/N) was as outraged as her betrothed. “And now he is showing such hypocrisy by denying you… The emissary of the Valars… Oh, Annatar, I am so ashamed of him!” She exclaimed. “It is as if he denied the Gods themselves!”

“Do not worry, my darling,” Annatar approached her to caress her arms soothingly. “I told him already I shall be the one to create those rings then and as I said, I shall do.”

“But… But can you?” She asked, shyly, as she looked up. “I mean, if you could do it yourself, you would have done that already without his help.”

“I do not know… But I have to try for all the people suffering now after Mordor’s rise,” he explained.

“If I can be of any help… Talk to my father to try to reason with him or perhaps there is something else I could do…” (Y/N) started as Annatar smirked a tiny bit, knowing very well she was too affected now to even notice.

It was too early to ask her for such a sacrifice, though. She would get suspicious because she was sensitive about the matter. She knew the dark history of the Moon Elves and she was afraid of becoming the darkness that so many of them had been naturally inclined to.

No, he had to wait some more time.

“Do not worry about it, please,” Annatar shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Have your faith in me and I shall be alright.”

Celebrimbor was sitting upstairs and staring at his papers but the only thing he could focus on were the sounds coming from the forge as his smiths were trying to create the Rings with Lord Annatar’s help. He could hear that they were not doing well and his new friend was growing frustrated but he also did not want to give up and help them.

After hearing Annatar scolding Mirdania gently, Celebrimbor stood up with a sigh and approached the railing as he leaned on it to watch more intensely. Annatar looked up at him as his eyes intensified but then they both looked away, avoiding each other’s uncomfortable gaze.

The usual noises of the forge were suddenly interrupted by a loud scream of terror coming from the outside. Everyone froze, staring at each other’s faces. Lord Celebrimbor’s heart skipped a beat as he recognised the scream immediately. He rushed down the stairs and spotted nothing but fear and worry on Annatar’s face as the scream was familiar to him as well.

“Lady (Y/N)...” Annatar whispered, dropping down his hammer and hurrying to the doors, giving a perfect show of nothing but pure concern.

Truth to be told, he was a little worried. He had no idea what could have caused her scream of terror but he knew one thing – that was not a part of his plan.

He was running towards the tower where she resided, with her father hurrying right after him. The people of Eregion were staring up and whispering between each other, curiously and worryingly. 

Annatar and Celebrimbor opened the doors leading to (Y/N)’s workshop and they saw her standing in the middle of it as shattered gemstones laid upon her feet all around the floor. She was squeezing a small hammer in her trembling hands as if she was trying to protect herself with it from something and her hair was ruffled while her cheeks were wet from tears. She was gasping for air and took a step back at their rapid arrival to her chambers.The way she presented herself at that moment was the most pitiful.

“My darling… Breathe…” Celebrimbor took a step further and tried to approach his daughter calmly with his hand extended, wanting her to give him back the hammer. (Y/N) was looking around, lost and stressed, squeezing the hammer even tighter. “My sweet child, please, I do not want you to hurt yourself,” Celebrimbor’s voice filled with pain.

After a while of hesitation, as the feeling of confusion was slowly disappearing and her breath was calming down, (Y/N) handed the hammer back to her father.

“What happened?” He asked, taking it away from her immediately.

“I was in a place like this, but shrouded in mist and darkness, and…” (Y/N) struggled to explain, shaking her head. Her wet eyes found Annatar’s worried ones. “I saw, I…” She looked back at her father. “At first, I thought it was the forge burning… But it wasn’t.”

“What was it?” Celebrimbor asked, calmly. 

His daughter hesitated with the answer as she shot a quick glance at her betrothed. She was afraid of him thinking badly of her – that she was descending into madness like her mother.

“I saw what mother had been seeing,” (Y/N) whispered as she looked down. “It was tall… and its skin was made of flames,” she continued but her gaze was being kept down, so he could not see the burning intensity of her lover’s gaze upon her. “It came toward me, breathing, reeking of death and I saw… I… I saw its eyes. Pitiless and eternal…” She began to sob again as she hid her face in her hands. “I think mother was right… It is here, it is already here…”

“My love, please,” Annatar moved finally as he approached (Y/N) softly to put his hands on her trembling arms. “You are with us now. There is nothing to fear,” he tried to comfort her in a delicate whisper as he looked up at Celebrimbor.

His friend was speechless and scared. Annatar understood why – he had lived through this before with his own wife and her ending had been nothing but tragic. Seeing the same thing happening again to his daughter had to be traumatic. And even though Annatar did not like the fact that Lady Dúlinnel and her daughter had visions warning them about him, he was sure he could still use their abilities in his game.

“Look around, my gentle darling,” Annatar whispered to his betrothed and lifted her chin up. “All is well, my love,” he smiled kindly at her and she sniffled her tears back before reaching her hands out to squeeze his desperately, seeking comfort. “All is well, I am here…” He assured her and gave her hands a gentle squeeze back.

“You must think so lowly of me now,” her lower lip trembled once more.

“No. No, my darling, no, how could I?” Annatar extended his hand out to caress her wet cheeks, glancing at her father from the corner of his eyes. Celebrimbor could do nothing but stare, being eaten alive by guilt that he could not offer the same comfort to his daughter but he was too scared and too shocked to even move slightly as he was still squeezing (Y/N)’s small hammer in his hands.

“You are the most understanding,” she sniffled her tears and closed her eyes as she leaned her cheek on Annatar’s hand. She looked so beautiful, he thought, with her cheeks wet from tears, while she was putting so much trust in him and him only.

As they stood there like that in silence, two guards stood in the doorway.

“My Lord, Celebrimbor,” one of the guards addressed him as he finally turned around to glance at them. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the guard bowed his head, “but Durin the Younger is arrived from Khazad-dûm.”

“No,” Celebrimbor shook his head, worryingly. “Tell him to wait, it is a family matter…”

“He says it is urgent. Something about the Rings,” the guard announced and now both Celebrimbor and Annatar seemed to be interested.

“I will see what he wants,” Annatar stepped out, moving his hands away from (Y/N).

“No,” Celebrimbor looked at him and put the hammer down on his daughter’s desk. “No, you stay here with (Y/N) for you are a far better comfort to her than I am these days. I will go,” he smiled widely at his friend but Annatar could sense that the Lord of Eregion was hiding something from him.

“Very well then,” Annatar nodded with a fake smile as well and he watched Celebrimbor disappear with the guards before turning around to look at his betrothed again. “My darling, sit,” he hurried back to her side and helped her to sit down on the armchair near the balcony as he opened the doors to let the fresh air inside. “Rest, gather your strength and your thoughts, I am not going anywhere,” he assured her and squeezed her hands lovingly as she looked up at him with the most devoted and affectionate eyes.

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

Annatar caressed her head and looked down at the mess on the floor. He quickly cleaned it up, making an impression of someone who would always pick up the broken glass pieces and calmly deal with the aftermaths of trouble. And once it was all done and the bigger gemstone pieces recovered from the dust were placed upon her desk, he took a deep breath in and walked outside to stand on the balcony to overhear the conversation between Celebrimbor and Durin from afar.

And just like he suspected, that awful Dwarf not only had arrived there to complain about the Ring seeming to be corrupted but he also dared to accuse him – Annatar himself, an emissary of the Valars – of having bad intentions.

And Annatar knew that Celebrimbor’s mind was already trying to shut him off more and more often. Now, Durin’s words planted yet a new seed of mistrust. Annatar was furious but he still had his plan B – sitting behind him and sniffling her tears away.

He composed himself and his angry facial expression turned into a soft one as he turned around to join (Y/N) in her chambers again. He crouched down next to her armchair and squeezed her arm.

“I am mad…” She whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“No, you are not mad,” Annatar assured her, calmly. “You are very brave,” he caressed her arm now and reached all the way up to brush her cheeks with his fingertips. “Some who behold the Unseen world are never quite at home in this one again.”

“Like my mother?” (Y/N) turned her head around to look into his eyes with curiosity and desperation. She wanted answers to calm down and he would gladly give them to her.

“Yes, like your mother. She was not mad either. Simply… more delicate than you,” Annatar smiled at her, lovingly. “It is a gift to be able to see the Unseen world but it comes with a terrible price. A terrible burden,” he explained.

“Have you seen it, too?” (Y/N)’s eyes filled with pain and compassion for him even though she was the one who had just suffered.

“Yes,” Annatar nodded, softly. “In its light, things appear as they truly are. Beings of different shades of light…” His eyes wandered somewhere else, leaving her face and staring at the wall in front of him. “And its darkness…” He hesitated, making sure that she catches on to that and her curiosity would make her ask for more.

“There is something you hide from me, my love. Please, I wish to understand what has just happened to me… What happened to my mother,” (Y/N) reached her hands out to grasp his wrists and to lower them away from her face as she intertwined her fingers with his, looking down at them as she smiled sadly at the sight of their silver rings.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar faked as much suffering as he could in his eyes as he laid them upon her scared face. “For what you saw, I did not wish you to see, until I had helped him to heal.”

Long silence occurred and he could not only hear but also feel her heartbeat quickening its pace.

“You… You speak of my father?” (Y/N) asked, confused. “But we spoke about it, I suggested it in the very beginning and you–”

“I never denied it,” Annatar reminded her, his voice growing a tone harsher but not too much. He just wanted to emphasise his seriousness. “I simply changed the subject, I hoped to distract you because I did not want to worry you.”

“I… I do not understand…” She shook her head as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“The toll that creation has exacted from him in crafting The Three and The Seven has left him diminished. Vulnerable to the shadow,” Annatar squeezed her hands to comfort her. 

“But he created them because of you…” The glimpse of doubt and clarity in her eyes made him freeze for a moment as his jaw clenched.

“Your father is the greatest of the Elven smiths. The task given to him might be a burden but it is an honour. He was chosen by the Valars,” Annatar answered quickly. “Promise me, you’ll speak to no one about it, my love,” his voice turned much sweeter once again as he leaned in to be closer to her. “Including him.”

(Y/N) hesitated but having Annatar’s face so close to hers, to the point of their breaths mixing, his warmth comforting her and his hair brushing her cheeks while his gaze was the most intense. How could she ever say no to this man?

“I promise,” she breathed out and he cupped her face to pull her even closer and join their lips together in a loving, bittersweet kiss.

MASTERLIST

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Used (Billy Butcher)

Description: Billy decides to use Y/N to get what he wants but it backfires when he falls in love with her.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 4,051k

She sighed, completely nervous as she walked down the aisle to her future husband. The wedding wasn’t crazy big but had all their friends and some family. MM walked her down the aisle since she refused to even speak to her parents since she found out they let Vought inject her with compound V. Her dress was dragging behind her as she looked forward to see Billy. He looked so handsome in his tux and he was staring at her in awe. She looked so beautiful. She got up the stairs and they both faced the priest. Billy thought he couldn’t be anymore lucky than what he was right now. Except this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Billy wasn’t a soft spoken man by any means. He could get aggressive and bossy especially when it came down to Vought stuff. He wanted one thing and one thing only. Revenge. Justice for his now dead wife, Becca. And the man would do anything to get it. “There’s a new member of the Seven?” Hughie asked his girlfriend Annie. She nodded and showed them. “Woah.” “wow.” was said amongst the boys. Y/S/N or Y/N. She had on a white lingerie type costume with angel wings that weren’t part of her skin. “What’s her power?” “She can fly.” Annie said. Billy stared at the picture of the girl. She was breathtaking.

Her costume made her boobs look bigger, thanks to Vought and she looked so sweet. Except Billy was still on edge about Supes. “She looks like an angel.” MM said. “Yeah, literally.” Hughie finished. Annie smiled at the boys. “Well she is an absolute sweetheart and she is single.” Billy didn’t know why but that caught his attention. She was single and she wasn’t a bitch? That was perfect. He smirked and looked at the others. “Well boys we might have ourselves a winner.” 

Billy hadn’t really planned this out too much but if he could make her fall for him, he could get information. Information on how to destroy Homelander. So here he was at a convention that she was signing stuff at. He was in line and made sure he would be the last so he could actually talk to her. She had the sweetest smile on as she signed pictures and merch. She didn’t seem to be faking the excitement but she was new so she really didn’t know how Vought worked yet.

Once he was up next to talk to her, he finally heard her voice. It sounded angelic and sweet. He didn’t realize how hard it was gonna be. “Hello.” She greeted him. “Hello luv, Billy Butcher.” He introduces himself. “Love the accent. Makes you a lot sexier.” She flirts. He was caught off guard from her comment. He didn’t realize that she would’ve thought anything of him. Which made it so much easier to get her right where he wanted. 

“Billy, fuck.” She moaned as he pounded into her cunt. She was up against a wall and he was holding her as he fucked the living shit out of her. Her tiny body fit perfectly with his, like a puzzle piece. “Holy shit. You’re so sexy.” She moaned out. He could cum from that. She was praising him and saying the hottest shit to him. He groaned in her ear making her pussy flutter around him. “Are you close?” He asked her. She nodded and gasped.

“So fucking close. Gosh you fuck me so well.” She whined. Damn he’s never felt like this before. He was so close to cumming and she was making it worse. He wanted her to cum first. “Open your eyes, luv. I want to see you fall apart.” She opened her eyes and her mouth remained open. He looked at her as her eyes rolled back and she moaned loudly cumming all over his dick. That triggered his release. He placed his face in her neck as he let out a moan and came hard. The hardest he’s ever came in so long. She held him close and calmed down. “This can’t be the last time you’re inside of me.” She said. It wouldn’t be. 

“Holy fuck. Can you believe that prick?” Y/N asked Billy. He chuckled at her anger. “Homelander is a lying selfish asshole.” “What made you realize that?” He asked her amused. She shook her head and sat down next to him. “We just found out that we’ve been injected with Compound V and he has the audacity to be okay with it?” Billy shrugged.

“I mean the fucker has everything, luv. Why wouldn’t he be okay with it?” She looked at him and shook her head. “He’s not human at all. That I know.” “So what do you wanna take him down?” Butcher asked. She laughed but then stopped. “That’s not a bad idea. I know Maeve and Starlight hate him. I could get the help.” And that’s how she ended up meeting The Boys. 

“Wait, so you hired these guys to help?” Y/N asked her boyfriend. “Yep they can help ya.” He said. The boys were confused on why Butcher was talking about them like that. Did Y/N not know? “Do you guys even have powers?” She asked them. They shook their heads and she sighed. “So how are you gonna help?” She asked them. “We’ve dealt with a lot of things like this.” Frenchie told her. Hughie looked at Butcher and realized that he was using Y/N to get to Homelander. He felt sick and wanted nothing more than to yell at the man. Y/N wasn’t a bad supe like Butcher thinks. But Hughie seemed to be the only one to catch on to Butcher’s plan. “Okay if you say so.” Y/N said, looking at the boys. “Perfect.” Butcher smirked. 

“So, you and Butcher huh?” Annie teased Y/N as they walked into the Vought towers. “Shhh I don’t know if it’s super serious yet.” She tells Annie. “Y/N, it’s been months almost a year. Do you love him?” Y/N looked at Annie and smiled. “Of course I do.” “See you need to tell him.” Maybe Annie was right. She should tell Butcher that she loves him. But when would be the right time?

His hips pounded against hers as she was laid on the Seven’s table in the conference room. How did they manage to have sex in here? They were on a mission to grab a file but got distracted. It was very dangerous to be having sex here, but that is what turned them on. “Billy.” She moaned a little too loud, forgetting that they were fucking in the seven’s conference room. His hand covered her mouth, mumbling her moans. “As sexy as those noises are, you need to be quiet.” He groaned.

She nodded but couldn’t help herself. Each snap of his hips felt better and better. Her hands gripped the table, turning her knuckles white. Billy’s other hand went in between them to rub her clit. Her moaning was still loud even with his hand covering her mouth. “You close, luv? We need to hurry.” He said and pounded faster. She arched her back as she felt her high approaching. Her sweet moans turned to whines and whimpers.

He felt himself getting close too, causing him to let out groans of his own. She gasped his name as she came undone. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, seeing this made Billy cum with a moan of her name. His hips worked them through their high. She sat up and cupped his face. “Billy, I love you.” She whispered. He froze in place and stared at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was using her and she fell in love with him. That wasn’t even the worst part. He loved her too. “I love you too.” He said and he kissed her. Guilt rose in his chest as he realized that they were in too deep. 

A year later, their wedding happened and Hughie kept a huge secret that to this day fills him with guilt. Though, he saw Billy falling in love with Y/N, that wasn’t the plan. Billy was using and lying to his now wife. She didn’t even know about Becca or Ryan. She didn’t know who the real Billy was. His backstory, none of it. MM and Frenchie felt guilt as well. They were so confused about why they had to lie to her in the beginning until one drunk night: 

The Boys were laughing and drinking, actually having fun for once. There wasn’t any stress about Vought or Compound V, just getting drunk. “That Y/N girl seems really cool, man.” MM told Butcher, pouring himself another glass. “Eh, She’s okay, Just another seed to be planted.” The boys looked at him, confused. “Wait, you’re using her?” Frenchie asked him. “Yeah, I am. Sure she’s a pretty thing and a good fuck. But she’s a supe and she’s just like the rest of em.” “Nah man, I don’t think Y/N is. She hates Homelander.” MM said. Billy shrugged. “She’s just another vought test subject. Once I have what I need she’ll be gone.” Frenchie and MM looked at each other. This was low, even for Billy. Y/N wasn’t a bad person nor did she deserve this. 

Which is why MM and Frenchie’s smiles didn’t reach that far up as the two got married. Hughie didn't either but he thought he was the only one that knew. Annie was oblivious to everything and Hughie didn’t have the heart to tell her. Y/N looked happy, she was happy and in love. What she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her. Billy felt happy again, after so long. He had a beautiful wife and a great team. He wasn’t worried about anything right now. He pushed everything to the back of his mind, even the fact that he used her in the beginning. 

“Just to think you were just some sexy guy in line at my meet and greet.” She said and looked over at him. He chuckled, “Just to think that we fucked an hour after meeting.” She laughed and shrugged. “Couldn’t help myself, I knew at that very moment that you were the one I wanted.” She tells him. His face softens at her words. “I knew too.” He said but that was a lie though. He didn’t know until months later. 

Months later and everything was going great. Billy and Y/N got their own place away from The Boys. They loved them but it was nice to have privacy. Y/N wanted out of The Seven and planned to talk to them but figured that wouldn’t work. Billy told her it would be best to take her file and disappear. She was on edge about it at first, not thinking it was a good idea. She didn’t want them knowing that she was married or where she was. Billy was lucky that it was her idea for them not to know she was married. He didn’t have to stress about her finding anything out. She walked into Vought Towers in her costume so nobody would suspect anything.

She didn’t have her ring on, she never did when she was here. She got in the elevator and hit the floor that she needed to go on. She has never snuck into where the files were placed. The only Seven member aloud to look at the files were Homelander. Her nerves were high as she walked out of the elevator and to the door. The door was locked as she suspected it would be. But thanks to Frenchie she knew how to undo locks. She looked around to make sure she was alone. Once the cost was clear she unlocked the door and snuck in. Stan Edgar’s office that he thankfully was not at today.

She looked around for a moment and sighed. His office seemed normal. She saw the filing cabinet and went to it. She carefully opened it and started looking for hers. She found it after a minute and grabbed it. She read it and chuckled. They had a lot of info on her, just not the important stuff. She was about to close the cabinet when someone opened the door. She gasped and looked at whoever came in. “Y/N?” The person asked.

She turned around and saw Homelander. “Hey!” She said with a fake smile. “What are you doing in here?” He asked. She really didn’t know how to lie her way out of it. She wasn’t planning for this to happen. “I uh just wanted to see my file.” She said. “Your file?” She held it up in her hands. “Yeah, after I found out about Compound V I stopped talking to my parents but wanted to get in contact with them to get the rest of my shit because I just bought a house.” Nice save. “Gotcha. You got a new place?” He asked. She nodded. “Yep, in the city.” Homelander seemed to be buying everything she was saying. 

She quickly got out of there with a breath of relief. She almost got caught but she felt proud that she saved herself. Homelander on the other hand was very curious about where she lived. He never figured out where she did before so he took the opportunity to follow her. She got home and unaware that she was being followed and set the file down on the table. Billy was out with The Boys so she had the place to herself.

He came home a few hours later. “Got the file.” She said pointing it out. He grabbed it and looked through it. It was creepy how much stuff they knew about her. “Good. Now ya can finally leave.” He said to her. She nodded and took the file. She shook her head. “I almost got caught though, saved my ass.” She said. “Who caught ya?” “Homelander. He uh came into the room after I had gotten it but I told him the best lie I've ever told.” She said. “What was the lie?” “That I needed to get in contact with my parents for my shit because I moved.” “And he bought that?” “Seemed to.” She shrugged. Homelander bought it up until he hovered about her house with his number one enemy. He couldn’t believe that Y/N had betrayed him. Especially with Billy. 

Y/N had to go into Vought’s tower one more time to pack up her shit. She would have yesterday but she didn’t want Homelander seeing after catching her with her file. As she was packing she heard a knock at the door. She went and opened it and there stood Homelander. “Can I help you?” She asked. He smiled and pushed her aside, walking in her office. “Uh excuse me? I didn’t invite you in.” She said. He chuckled and turned around to face her. “Why did you lie to me yesterday?” He asked. She looked confused, “What do you mean?” “You lied to me about why you had your file.” He said. Oh shit. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes you did and you are working with Billy Butcher.” He yelled. “Who?” She asked. Though she was confused on how Homelander knew him. “Oh don’t play stupid. I saw that you two live together.” He growled. Her eyes widened. “You followed me?” She asked him. “Yes I did because you’re a lying little bitch.” He said and walked closer to her. She backed up against the door. “How do you know Billy?” She asked. He looked at her confused. “What the fuck do you mean?” “How do you know him?” He chuckled. “You know damn well how I know him.” She shook head and looked up at him. “No. I don’t .” She said. By her heartbeat he could tell she wasn’t lying. “You are working for him and you don’t know?”

“I’m not working for him.” She said. “But you live with him.” “He’s my husband.” She whispered. Homelander’s face dropped. “You’re married to him?” She nodded. “And you don’t know how we know each other?” He asked. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” She said. He pulled her arm causing her to screech in pain. He pulled her to Stan’s office and took her inside. “Why are we here?” She asked. “Go in the filing cabinet.” He told her, motioning towards it. She looked at him confused. “Go look under B.” He told her. She walked over to cabinet and opened it. She looked at the letter B and all the files under it. She saw one that had the name “Butcher.” on it, well two. She pulled them both out.

She looked at the one with the woman on it first and saw that she was married to Billy. Y/N gasped and almost dropped the files. She read through the file and saw that the woman was dead but had a son named Ryan. She looked at Billy’s and wanted to cry. He had been keeping this from her. “Ryan is my son, not Billy’s.” Homelander said. Tears streaming down her face. “He was married?” She asked. “Y/N, he thought for the longest time that I killed Becca and he’s been after me ever since.” She sobbed. “So how did she die?” Y/N asked, turning towards him.

“Ryan, our son, accidentally killed her and my girlfriend at the time.” Y/N looked broken and shocked. “So he’s been trying to kill you for that?” She asked. Homelander nodded. “I take it since you didn’t know any of this, he’s probably using you to get to me.” He tells her. The files drop from her hands and she breaks down. “He was wanted, along with 4 others that he works with.” Hughie, Frenchie, MM and Kumiko. 

She got home, late that night. She ignored Billy’s calls and had to be anywhere but there. She sighed as she opened the door to the house and closed it. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call ya all day.” Billy exclaimed. She looked at him and it took everything in her body not to break. He noticed that her eyes were empty. “Are ya okay?” He asked and went to touch her but she pulled away. “You wanna tell who Becca is?” She asked. His face dropped. “Or the fact that you and Homelander go way back?”

“Or the fact that you’ve been using me for information on Homelander?” She screamed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh, Billy? You wanna explain?” “H-how do you know any of that?” He asked. She scoffed in disbelief. “That shouldn’t be the concern here but since it is to you I saw the files. Yours and Beccas.” She yelled. “You’ve been using me, you don’t love me.” She whispered, tears streaming down her face. “That’s not true.” He said. “Which part? The part that you were using me or the part that you don’t love?” She yelled.

“I do love ya.” She shook her head. “No.” She sobbed. “You don’t. You wouldn’t have lied to me.” She was right. He knew that but what could he say to make any of this better. “Look I know I should have told you about my wife and that I knew Homelander but if we could just sit down and talk about this that would be great.” “You wanna sit down and talk? What excuse do you have?” She yelled. “I don’t have any excuses. But I wanna tell you everything. Just let me give you that.” She didn’t move from her spot. “Tell me right now.”

“Homelander raped my wife. I had thought for the longest time she was dead and he had killed her. She was alive and had a kid. The kid wasn’t mine, it was that cunt Homelander’s. I’ve known before I met you that he was a piece of shit. So when I saw you, yes I thought you would be great use for information on him.” She scoffed. “But then I actually got to know ya and I fell in love with ya.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry about Becca, Billy but you shouldn’t have used me or lied to me.” She said. “I know.”

“I actually loved you from the beginning and to figure out that this was all a lie from the enemy himself.” “It’s not all a lie. I do love ya.” He walked closer to her. She stepped back. “No.” she mumbled. She slid off the ring. “We were never on the same page. You never cared about me. This ring means nothing, it never did.” She said and threw it at him. “Y/N-” “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Please just stop. I’m tired and i’m over this.” She sighed and walked out of the house, leaving him in tears. 

She drove to where The Boys were staying, not wanting to be around Billy. She opened the door and they all turned their heads. She noticed a very handsome guy that they were talking to. “Hey is Billy with ya?” Frenchie asked. Y/N shook her head. “No, he’s not.” “Are you okay?” Hughie asked her. She shook her head and tried to hold back the tears. “No, I’m not.” Hughie ran over to her. “What’s wrong?” She sighed and looked at him. “He used me to get information on Homelander and he lied to me. But I’m sure you already knew that.” She said, glaring at him. His jaw dropped. “Y/N, I wanted to tell you so many times but you guys looked happy.” She held up her hand.

“Just stop. I don’t need this right now.” She walked around him and grabbed the bottle of vodka that was on the table. They all gave her pity looks. “You guys don’t owe me like he does but it would have been nice to know that he was a shitty guy.” She said and walked into one of the rooms. She sighed and sat down. She looked around and noticed that she was in Billy’s old room. She sighed and took the vodka and drank from it. She heard footsteps and she looked up. The guy that she saw earlier. “Who are you?” She asked. “Ben.” She nodded.

He sat on the bed next to her. He chuckled as she drank straight from the bottle. “Something funny, Ben?” She asked. “No it’s just you’re too pretty to be heartbroken over a guy like Butcher.” She laughed, a genuine laugh. “Let me guess you guys go way back too?” She asked. “Just a week.” He told her. She nodded. “Well if it only took you a week to figure out he sucks, why'd it take me 2 years?” He chuckled at her questions. “Looks like you love him.” She shook her head. “Yeah, pathetic right? He lied to me about every little fucking thing and used me for information on Homelander.”

“Sounds like a dick.” They both laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m trama dumping on you.” “Nonsense.” He shook his head. She laid on the bed with a sigh. He followed her. “I’m surprised he’s not here, looking for me.” She said. “He’s an idiot.” “Yeah but so am i.” Ben turned his head towards her. “Pretty hot for an idiot then.” She turned to look at him. “Are you hitting on me?” She asked. “Yeah. I’d be an idiot not to.” He said. She chuckled and turned her whole body towards him.

“You don’t even know me.” She said. “Yeah but you seem like you need to be taken care of and not by some jackass.” “How do I know you’re not a jackass?” She asked. “You don’t but I can assure you that I’m not gonna lie to you about my past life or using you. I’m just trying to fuck you.” She stared at him and her eyes kept going from his eyes to his lips. He noticed her doing this and cupped her face. He turned his body towards her and moved closer. She didn’t move away, she didn’t want to. She let him lean in and kiss her. There wasn’t fireworks, sparks or butterflies but damn it felt good. “Y/N?” She pulled away from the kiss and gasped.

[verboselocket38]

Before any Stolas/itz stans come to me saying I am a Blitzø stan, I'm not. I dont like Blitzø but this thought has been in my head for awhile and I gotta bring it out here.

Imagine this...

A society where Imps are seen as the second lowest class next to hell hounds where not many are able to start their own buisness.

Now Blitzø wanted to start his own killing buisness where he needs to get to the human realm. Currently its successful, but its only sucessful when he sleeps with Stolas every month for his grimore which access people in hell to the human realm.

A lot of people have already talked about the power dynamics and coercive relationship the two have so this post is mainly me talking about how Stolas was the one to force Blitzø into the relationship, whether he knew or not.

1. The reason for Blitzø to live

Lets just get this out of the way, the Grimore is the reason why Blitzø needs to run his buisness. The buisness that helps pay for his daughter and him to have a roof over their head, and their employees. Money that helps them pay for food, bills, other necessities for them to LIVE. Imps are one of the lowest classes in society, we see in previous episodes they may work as butlers for the Goetia and a not treated well.

In Full Moon Blitzø was begging for Stolas for him to do better all because he missed a bit for their arrangment. Alot of people think hes pleading because he "actually loves Stolas and wants to do better" when.... No it was more of Blitzø begging to keep the one thing that kept his buissness that he worked so hard to maintain afloat - and this was before Stolas showed him the crystal. Even if thats not what the writers intended thats not how it comes off in the show.

2. "But Blitzø started the arrangement!"

No he didnt. When Stolas took Blitzø to the bedroom when he was caught trying to steal the grimore, he thought Blitzø was going to "ravish him." HE made it sexual in the first place.

Now its been 25 years since these two last saw eachother. In that time things change and these two only interacted once as KIDS. When you are a child your personality and perspective usually changes as you grow older. What I mean by this is that Stolas being a royal, in Blitzø's mind he believes that if Stolas figured out WHY he was here sneaking around his house, there is a good chance Stolas could just kill him.

And before any of you say "But Stolas would NEVER do that 🥺"

How exactly is Blitzø suppose to know???

It's been 25 years since they lady saw each other. Stuff changes. If Blitzø thought Stolas wouldn't kill him if caught, then why didn't he just ask Stolas for the book? I mean if he knew that Stolas would willingly give him the book for the business, then wouldn't this whole arrangement like- never happen in the first place???

In his mind in this situation, Blitzø was panicking. In this situation him being sexual with Stolas was his only priority in his mind to keep himself alive.... And then later he gave Stolas pity sex.

(Which let me just say since this part is what I believe defiently what wasnt going through Blitzø's mind... But if he left with the book not giving Stolas sex, I wouldn't be suprised that Stolas would feel betrayed and then track Blitzø down to take the book back. We know he can track him down in Murder Family and Truth Seekers, so I wouldn't be suprised but yeah I just wanted to point this out.)

3. "But What about Blitzø's Exes?"

People like to bring Up Blitzø's exes to point out how he somehow screwed up in his relationship with Stolas even though it is a separate issue. And something to point out is that Dennis, a character from the Queen Bee episode, was there. He wasn't an ex, he was a fling. I wouldnt be suprised that the amount of people there are just flings. As for Verosika she has every right to hate him after he maxed her credit card, but like.... girl making a party every year about hating Blitzø isnt going to let these people get over him.

In all honesty I think Blitzø having a lot of "Exes" was just meant to make Blitzø look worse than Stolas. This is just something I wanted to get out of the way.

4. If you still think that its Blitzø's fault cuz the relationship started, let me put it in perspective like this...

(This isnt suppose to be a 100% accurate comparison to Stolas and Blitzø but this is just to set an example)

There was this couple named John and Leslie. Now John has been intrested in Leslie in a romantic way and asks her to be in a relationship. She says yes and they date for awhile. Things may or may not start out ok but later down the line Leslie starts being not a good partner. By that I mean she might be emotionally manipulative towards him or making him think that anything Leslie herself doesn't like is immediately JOHN'S fault. Apparently if we go by the HH/HB fandom's logic, John would be at fault for being abused because HE was the one who started the relationship. The fact that he had feelings for her at one point automatically means that he has to be in the relationship forever now.

Now if we go to Blitzø and Stolas, Blitzø is at fault for being in sexual coercion because he tried to not get himself (In his mind) killed by Stolas when he tried taking his book. Its his fault for not loving him when what they had was a transactional agreement that was purely business. Its Blitzø's fault for not realizing Stolas was having a serious conversation with him in Full Moon, when Stolas has never treated Blitzø like an equal in the past.

Conclusion

When going through this whole rant I wanted to put this somewhere but didnt know where:

I don't condemn thievery... but I also dont condemn coercive rape.

Just because Stolas feels bad about it does not make anything any better. Even if he didn't mean to put Blitzø in this situation, whatever way you look at it, its unhealthy. Blitzø needed the book to run his buisness that he worked hard for to LIVE. Stolas was the one who decided this whole agreement. HE was the one who put these two in this predicament. And yet this show still decides to make Stolas look like a victim.