#and so desperate for any chance at freedom

[procrastinatorrex]

“Absolutely not.” When Merlin looked up the prince was blocking the door. His eyes glittered in the fire, twin chips of ice. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Arthur crossed his arms; his gauntlets clanged against the chestplate he still wore. Dirt was smeared on the edge of the plate, stained the collar of his tunic a rusty brown that contrasted with the soft, tanned skin of his neck. Merlin could see the pulse there, steady, but fast. He was human. Vulnerable. Even so, he was not one to be trifeled with. Arthur planted himself between the snarling fey and the door with grim determination and, human or not, he may as well have been a wall; impenetrable Pendragon will wrapped in iron.  

The magic hadn’t settled yet after the battle– it mingled with the desperation, a mixture that buzzed like adrenaline in Merlin’s veins, tingling in his fingertips. He would make this mortal obey him. How dare this human presume to understand the machinations of the Court? How dare this man attempt to trap a Prince of Faerie. 

(more below the cut)

“You dare–” The slide of metal cut off the furious words. Merlin drew back with a hiss. He felt his fangs, sharp on his lip; “you dare to threaten me!” Tears– of rage, no doubt– pricked at his eyes, the betrayal was like a wound, though Excalibur was limp in Arthur’s hand, the deadly tip pointing at the floor. 

Arthur’s gaze softened, “You fool,” he said, his voice low, like the point of his sword, “I can’t let you leave. I can’t. You can’t honestly have expected anything else.” 

“You have no say–” The sting faded under the sadness on Arthur’s face. The look in his eyes wasn’t anger, Merlin realized, it was fear. Fear for him. “Arthur, you can’t keep me here.” 

“I can try. I have to try–” His voice broke when he added; “They’ll kill you, Merlin. They’ll rip you apart.” 

The two princes stared at each other. Human and fey, barely an arms length apart, and yet in two different worlds. Finally, Merlin sighed. “I cannot ignore the summons. They will only come here. Your people will suffer, and then they will take me back to the Court all the same. I can’t escape judgment for my crimes.” 

“What you did wasn’t a crime.” Arthur snapped, frustration adding a sharp edge in his voice. 

“Loving a human is a crime.” Merlin argued, automatically. The words registered a second later and he froze, eyes wide. “I– I didn’t–” Blue locked with blue, and Merlin felt the blood drain out of his face– “I didn’t–” but the human was on him before he could even consider what to say. The legendary blade clattered to the floor as gloved hands fisted in the front of Merlin’s battle leathers and dragged him toward Arthur. The human prince kissed like a man possessed– like this was his last chance. It probably is, some part of Merlin’s mind reasoned, but he couldn’t be bothered to care just at that moment. He met the human prince enthusiastically, leaning into the soft warmth of Arthur’ mouth, so much more yielding than the rest of him. It was like flying, falling, and being pulled all at once. 

Arthur was warm, hot even, flush from the battle and from the rush of letting go. Merlin recognized it, because the same sudden, unexpected freedom sang through his own blood. Merlin’s hands slid across Arthur’s chest, up over his shoulders and to his neck, searching for any exposed skin. There was frustratingly little. Merlin pulled back from the human’s lovely mouth to pant against his lips, “you are wearing armor, human.” 

Arthur laughed, responding by peppering Merlin’s face with small kisses; on his lips, one for his chin, trailing across his jaw. When he reached his destination the prince bit gently on the slightly pointed shell of Merlin’s ear and purred, “Good thing you have magic isn’t it, fairy?”  

[heretherebedork]

How the caged bird sings the song he's told to, in darkness and in solitude, trapped in a place where he cannot be himself and with the looming threat of the lock being slammed shut on him and leaving him without any place to go now that he's taste freedom.

[ivy-elle]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Part 1 ft. Scaramouche, Childe, Diluc, Xiao

Scaramouche

Jealousy?

Tsk. Please.

Don’t flatter yourself.

Do you really think someone like him would ever succumb to a pathetic sentiment such as “jealousy”?

If someone threatens to take what is his, that person simply ceases to exist.

There. Done.

Why would it ever bother him if you’ve found a new friend among his men?

He does not have time for such trivial matters.

He knows that person is not able to make you feel the way Scaramouche does. Not in the slightest.

What can they even offer you?

Time? Attention? A pathetic attempt at making you laugh?

Ridiculous

Just because Scaramouche hasn’t been able to be with you as much as he wanted to, doesn’t mean-

Now they’re pulling you into an embrace? The sheer audacity to do this with him in the room.

Are they truly that desperate?

No, while Scaramouche trusts you not to be foolish enough to embarrass yourself in that way, he has pride and a reputation to maintain.

And right now, his pride is flaming up.

He is seething.

He confronts them when they’re alone and makes things pretty clear.

Have they forgotten who he is?

“Oh, you really think you have a chance? How amusing. Know your place, or should I remind you of it again?.”

Childe

Oh, best believe this man here is protective af

Borderline possessive, even

Yet, he too, has enough faith in you not to taint the honour or your relationship in any way

So, he sometimes allows himself - for his own entertainment of course - to watch from afar as the guy puts his moves on you

Childe delights himself in the way you reject the guy’s antics in your own charming way

But when it becomes clear that the guy isn’t planning on backing off, Childe’s temper flares up, and he’d enrapture in the opportunity to put the dude in his place

Wouldn’t be above straight up making out with you then and there, just to prove his point

Would then proceed to look at the guy with a broad smile, an undeniable menace behind his eyes

“Hey there, comrade. 😄 Mind knocking it off a bit?”

Diluc

His jealousy is more often displayed as annoyance or irritation

But at the same time he maintains his stoic, yet dignified composure

Like during one of his shifts in Angel’s Share, if he notices someone flirting with you at the bar

He respects your independence, and recognises that you are capable of defending yourself and setting your own boundaries

However, that wouldn’t stop him from letting some passive-aggressiveness slip out

May it be if he places the ordered drink just a tad too loudly in front of the man, causing him to jump slightly

Or he might declare that their usual order is out of stock today, only to serve it to the next customer right in front of the man’s eyes

Yet, Diluc would keep a watchful eye on you, ready to intervene if you seemed uncomfortable or silently asking for his help

Xiao

With Xiao, jealousy takes shape in a less conventional manner

It’s neither hot, nor cold. It doesn’t burn, nor does it hurt

Not the way he wished it would at least

Rather when he spots you in merry company with a friend, a companion or a nice chat with a traveller from afar

He is greeted with a deep routed sense of guilt.

Not every time of course, but enough to cause a pit of self-hatred to add to his long list of faults in his character

Over the course of your time together, you have become quite attached to him, you loved him even

A concept he thought to have long forgotten

But your humans’ emotions are blinding you. Clearly. They have to.

While the world is out there, waiting for you to step out, calling your name

You choose to stay by his side

Instead of taking on the freedom he couldn’t gift you, you are now sitting next to him by the river

Your reflections watching him quietly with a smile

No amount of almond tofu you make, could fill the dull ache he feels in the back of his mind when you seem to be so blind to your opportunities, your chances, your life

Instead of staying in a cage he traps you in.

And yet, whenever you set out with your other companions you always return to him.

In the end, he will be the one keeping watch over your sleep in his bed, and you will be the one waiting for him at dusk

“This is no golden cage for me, Xiao. You are the one gifting me my wings.”

[gatorlovebot]

inspired by @ghouljams ghost distribution system posts <3

thinking about neighbor simon who watches you move in to the little 1 bedroom rental property next to his own. it takes it a few days for it to sink in that it’s just you living in the home. seemingly no partner, no roommates, no family. it makes his skin itch and his fingers twitch.

he doesn’t know why he introduces himself to you, but when he walks out his front door with riley, leash in hand, his feet start moving himself closer to your porch. you're struggling to hang a potted plant on a hook and even though he desperately wants to take it from you and hang it himself, end your struggle, he stays firmly planted right in front of your porch steps.

the look of triumph on your face sets something off in his stomach before you finally notice him. he can tell you're taken aback by his presence on your stoop and he's not surprised. but your eyes cut down to riley whose standing at attention by his side and your eyes soften and a smile threatens to split your lips because of his boy.

"oh, hi," you greet him, still kind to him regardless of his intrusion.

"hi," his voice is gruff, not the kindest it's ever been. he doesn't want to give away too much, how he felt compelled to come to you. "you just move in?"

he watches as your eyes slip down to riley again, probably easier to look at the grinning dog by his feet than him. "yeah, just last week." you confirm.

"just you in there?" he's prying and he knows it, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

you look back up at him and he allows himself to look at the column of your throat. "yeah, just me." you sound weary, good, he thinks. "is it just you and the dog, then?"

tit for tat. "ya', just me and riley."

your face softens and a smile graces your lips as you look back down at riley. "riley?" your voice is soft, like you're talking to something precious and small, it makes riley's ears perk up. "good name for a good boy."

simon huffs a breath, a tiny little chuckle of a thing. he can only imagine how ths interaction would go if he hadn't had riley with him. he would have hoped you wouldn't have been that forthcoming with a complete stranger at your doorstep. his mind is screaming at him to leave, to get off your stoop and to leave your life as quickly as he inserted himself into it. but your kindness eats away at him, settling low in his gut. he's always had an easier time listening to his body than his head.

he watches as you reach your hand out for riley to sniff, it’s not often that him and riley get approached by strangers so riley revels in the attention, nosing at your hand for pets and scratches. “i’ve been thinking of getting a dog, maybe riley can have a friend in the neighborhood.”

of course you’re thinking of getting a dog, a young thing like you on your own for the first time, your first taste of freedom getting something of your own. he shouldn't make assumptions, but he does. you had only been in your own place for a week and you're already thinking of getting something to take care of. maybe he'll have to get a tight leash to keep you on.

"haven't been on your own for very long," he doesn't phrase it as a question, instead it comes out as a statement, a fact, because it is. somehow he just knows this is your first chance at independence.

"yeah, you're right," you agree, still rubbing riley's ears but your eyes look dejected.

he can't bare to look at your far away eyes and down turned lops any longer, tugging riley closer to himself clearing his throat. "well, we should get going." he watches you give one last per to riley, cooing at the dog with a little wave. he feels something in him shift.

-

the next day when he leaves his house with riley his feet take him back up your walk and onto your porch. you aren't out today, so simon needs to knock on your door. he doesn't expect you to answer after he raps his knuckles against the wood grain, but out the corner of his eye he sees you peek out the front window to look out your porch. good, can't have you opening up the door to strangers.

you look surprised to see him, but your eyes brighten when you see riley. "oh, hi guys," you greet the both of them, your voice sweet and polite. simon takes in your appearance, wrapped up in soft, comfy clothes. he knows he should feel a bit of remorse at interrupting your time, but he doesn't, too preoccupied with the way you crouch down to stoke over riley's ears.

"thought you may want to join us," he says in lieu of a greeting. you look up at him with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed. all he does is tug loosely on riley's leash as explanation.

"oh," you put the pieces together, smart girl. "really?," you question, "i don't want to bother you-"

"if i didn't want you to join us, i wouldn't have come over." he contends, shutting his mouth before begging words are able to slip past his lips.

your expression smooths out despite his gruff words and you give riley a meaningful look before asking him, "can you give me a minute to put my shoes on?"

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

[rafeyswrd]

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS | PROLOGUE

benedict bridgerton x princess reader — slight anthony x reader. slight colin x reader.

series summary. the princess is in desperate need to sponsor a successful season in order for freedom to come her way. and benedict bridgerton would do anything to please her highness.

WC. 500+ | warnings. none.

A/N. so sorry for being so late :( uni is so so hectic. i’ll update every friday from now on it’s only fair!! if you have any thoughts, etc, i’d love to know! i do have some requests i’m writing rn, but i love seeing them either way. enjoy!! and remember english is my second language, please be easy with the critique 😞😞.

“It is beyond unfair how stuck in life I am despite all I own, mama.” The princess whined, her hands fiddling with the ruffle that lay beneath her waist on her dress, jaw clenched in disdain.

Queen Charlotte’s eyes rolled, a sense of annoyance creeping into her. “You do not speak to me as such, I am your Queen.”

“You are also my mother!”

Silence traced through the walls of the dining hall; Lady Danbury’s awkward coughing did nothing to lessen the tension floating between the pair. Y/N’s hands were balled into fists, and the corset entwined into her dress was suffocating her beyond means.

“All I ask for is a chance to prove myself mama,” her voice was shaky, and she was unsure if the softening of her mother’s eyes were a part of her wild imagination. “I am not glass, and if you give me a sense of freedom, I will show you so!”

It was a momentary silence that had her heartbeat escalating, the gulp emitting her throat embarrassingly loud.

“Well.” Y/N’s eyes widened, her mother’s voice stern, yet a gentle trace followed through. “You may do as you please, your nagging does no good for your voice, it is also quite infuriating.”

“Well?”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose a deal could be made.”

Lady Danbury’s brows raised, and Y/N stood up from her chair, chest heaving from her previous rant. “Which is?”

Her mother leaned back, blinking once, twice, before speaking gradually. “Sponsor the upcoming season. I need a diamond as the people expect, and a successful one at that. I cannot be deemed faulty.”

The princess shook her head in disbelief, pushing her chair back and walking closer to where her mother smugly sat. “That is, it? After years of begging, that is all I am required to do?”

“Yes,” The queen swatted her hands in the air, to where her daughter stood, “Do not make me change my mind.”

Y/N smiled, a large gleaming smile. She clapped her hands enthusiastically, a soft, un lady-like giggle escaping her in a moment of excitement. “You underestimate me, mama. You shall have a happily wed diamond by the end of the season- if not before.”

The hurried noise of her steps gradually fainted as Y/N ran out, parts of her dress bunched up between her fists. Her smile was blinding, biting her bottom lip so hard she was sure it was bruising. She could not wait to tell her maid, Lydia, of it all, completely ignoring the warning signs blaring through her head on how her mother’s acceptance has come with incredible ease. Unlike before.

Lady Danbury’s face contorted to one of confusion, staring at the queen with a hesitant expression. “Not to question your decisions, your majesty, but I cannot help but wonder why you have come to agree this time, in comparison to the others?”

Queen Charlotte’s smirk was very faintly, yet visible enough to raise concern, “Do you think of me a fool, Lady Danbury? You are to be following her every move in hopes that it does not go the way she anticipates. Her coming of age does not take away her title as my youngest child, she is far too immature to be put out there in a serious manner.”

“If my goal is to ensure that her part of the deal fails, then it is what I will do, your majesty.”

Truly, It was beyond tragic how quickly news spread, and it was only a moment of running peace before Benedict Bridgeton has come to know of the princess’ role in the upcoming season. No longer was he a man whose eyes rolled at the thought of marriage. But a man who spent his days with an erratic heart, and fantasises of her royal highness plaguing his train thoughts.

TAGLIST. @easybrainrot34 @jkshxua @pinkpantheris

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There

A/N: I’ve been hearing in the streets that some of yall are tired of smut 👀 (my specialty 🥲) so I present you with a slow burn. I’m not sure just yet how many chapters there will be, and I don’t know how or why this idea came to me but I’ve fallen in love with the story. I also desperately need practice writing stuff other than porn because I have dreams of being a published author some day soooo all feedback is highly appreciated 💕 

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Summary: Terry gets inspired in so many ways by a tattoo artist. 

Warning: fluffy and angsty, no smut here so rated E

Length: This mf is 4.1k words long 😮‍💨🥴 my fault

Chapter 1

Wednesdays felt like her secret sanctuary, a rare calm in the whirlwind of her week. Most days, Reign’s life as a young Black woman running a buzzing tattoo studio in the heart of downtown Houston was anything but quiet—ink-stained hands, constant chatter, the hum of machines. Yet, in this moment, she savored the peaceful lull. 

The community had embraced her with open arms, offering support, admiration, and more appointments than she ever imagined this early on. Clients lined up months in advance, eager to wear her art, while others knocked at her door with résumés in hand. Reign was already on the hunt for three more artists to keep up with the demand. It’s been a blessing, but it’s also been overwhelming. 

So Wednesdays, Reign doesn’t take any appointments or walk-ins, she just comes to her studio to create, conjuring up beautifully original pieces to present to the world. Wednesdays helped her stay grounded so she didn’t lose herself in the fast pace of her career. They helped her hold on to her love and passion for her craft, it’s a necessity for her success as an artist. 

Her studio was a reflection of her soul—beautiful, grounded, and something she took immense pride in. She had stumbled upon the space by chance, walking through the warehouse district one sunny afternoon. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by smooth cement walls flooded the open floor plan with light, offering her the creative freedom to shape the space however she desired. Now, a vibrant neon orange sign reading "Lotus Tattoo" glowed outside, inviting passersby. Inside, the walls were adorned with art from local artists, while plush oriental rugs softened the industrial feel. Scattered lamps cast a warm glow in the evening, and cozy seating areas and lush plants created a relaxed vibe. Bamboo room dividers separated the space for other artists yet to join her.

Today she walked in and began her routine that now felt more like a spiritual ritual which transported her to another world. Opening the velvet mauve curtains to let the morning light in, lighting incense throughout the space to cleanse the energy, turn on her brown sugar playlist so soft r&b can set the vibe, and opening the wide glass garage door at the back of the studio to let the cool autumn breeze in.

She took off her crochet cardigan which matched her shorts, rolled up the sleeves to her cropped Anderson Paak shirt, and swirled her copper highlighted braids into a messy bun. Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she sat at her desk and hunched over her iPad, biting her pen as she imaged how to bring more texture to the hair of the Caribbean mermaid she was working on. 

~~~~~~~~

Terry’s legs couldn’t stay still, pacing the length of his apartment like a caged animal. The space felt suffocatingly small, no matter how impressive the view of the city spread out below him. The constant barrage of honking horns and blaring sirens seeped in through the open window, filling his head with a cacophony that grated against his nerves. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it. He let out a sharp breath, the simmering rage beneath his skin threatening to boil over. He hadn’t always been this tightly wound—once upon a time, people called him easygoing. But things had changed. He had changed.

He shoved his AirPods in, cranking the volume of "Killing in the Name Of” until the defiant shouts and pounding drums drowned out the noise in his head. As the music pulsed through him, he stormed out of his place, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. Instead of heading toward the elevator, he veered toward the stairwell, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, as if the rapid movement could outrun the memories chasing him.

Sure, everything had worked out on paper—the Shelby Springs police department was under investigation, the chief and a dozen corrupt cops were behind bars. Cases were being reopened, and lawyers from across the country were flocking to defend the victims of that backwoods nightmare. Hell, Terry had even won half a million in his lawsuit against the city. But what did it all matter? Mike was still gone. After pouring everything he had into saving his cousin, Terry was left with nothing but an empty victory and a gnawing sense of purposelessness. Lost, adrift, and suffocating beneath the weight of survivor’s guilt, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him: At what cost?

As he exited his building, the midday sun greeted him with a mocking cheerfulness, bright and all consuming. Terry scowled, keeping his squinting eyes glued to the uneven ground beneath his feet as he mindlessly walked the downtown streets. He was so wrapped up in his disdain for life that he missed how people moved out of the way of his hulking form, how cops perusing the streets eyed him suspiciously, how birds scurried away from the sound of his thundering footsteps. 

He walked for 20 minutes in a straight line before his mind finally went numb enough for him to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t far at all from his home, but this side of the downtown had a different feel to it. The buildings were shorter and wider, the foot traffic was less obnoxious, and beautiful graffiti covered almost every wall. He spotted a building that stood out amongst the others with its pristine alabaster paint over the cement and its glowing neon sign. “Lotus Tattoo”.

It had been months since Mike passed, but the thought of getting something permanent to honor him had crossed Terry’s mind more than once—though he didn’t need ink to remind him of Mike’s infectious laugh or goofy grin. As he approached the tattoo shop, he slowed, his fingers brushing the door handle. He gave it a tug but stopped when he felt resistance—it was locked. For a moment, he considered walking away, but movement deeper inside the studio caught his eye. He lingered, torn between retreating and pressing on, before finally deciding to make his way around the back, curiosity quietly pulling him forward.

~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t hear him walk in through the open garage door, so immersed in perfecting the fine details before her, and Terry doesn’t wish to bring attention to himself just yet. He takes soundless steps into her studio, as if the building itself was emitting a peace so relieving that he could feel the pressure of anxiety roll right off his shoulders. He took a deep breath in, nose filling with the earthy scent of warm patchouli and sweet jasmine. Walking further into her domain, his eyes bright with curiosity take in his surroundings-a chipped and loved on mug, the soft rug blanketing his steps, the petal shaped ceiling fans whirling quietly, and he chuckled silently at her grumbles to herself.

He instinctively removed his AirPods and put them in their case, snapping the lid shut and startling the both of them. Reign straightened her back with a gasp, turning so sharply on her stool that her glasses flew off her face and she toppled over, just barely catching herself in a clumsy fighting stance, knees knocked and hands in awkwardly placed fists. Terry, for what its worth, looked like a deer caught munching in the farmers garden, pupils blown almost wide enough to cover the steel gray, mouth open in a shocked ‘o’, eyebrow twitching from trying not to laugh at her horrible stance and the fact that her glasses slid right to his feet.

“Um…” Terry didn’t know what to say as he raised his palms to her, trying to appear harmless, “I was wondering…do you take walk-ins?” Reign let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and placed a hand over her thudding heart, standing more relaxed but still on guard.

“You almost scared me to death! Yes um-“ she squinted at the ground next to her, trying to find her glasses, “-um yes, normally I do, just not Wednesdays-“ she was caught off guard again feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. When had he even moved? 

Terry stood so close that her nose brushed his shirt as she tilted her head to look up at him. He gave her a ghost of a smile and brought her glasses to rest on her nose, pushing her loose braids back behind her ears and studying her. “There.” His voice was so deep that she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps erupting on her skin was from the sound of it, or from being so close to him. 

They stared at each other a moment longer, him admiring her gold septum nose ring against her beautiful mahogany skin, and her eyes darting between his plump lips and striking eyes. Terry finally cleared his throat and took a large step back, raising a brow at her. Reign blinked away the haze he’d created, her voice coming out high and breathless.

“I do take walk-ins! Not normally on Wednesdays, but what were you wanting to get?” Terry looked away thinking, and Reign used that as an excuse to look him over once more, eyes roaming his heavily toned muscles. He was undeniably handsome, like fine as hell handsome.

He looked back at her and she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I want to get something for my cousin, today was his birthday.” she watched his eyes darken to a murky green as his expression turned somber, “I’m thinking like 2 fists bumping together, can you do that?”

Reign bit her lip in contemplation and Terry’s eyes darkened even further following that movement. “I can, let me just draw up something for you. It shouldn’t take too long, how much time have you got today?” He gave her another ghost of a smile. 

“I’m all yours. I’m Terry by the way, you own this place?” She shook his extended hand and quickly pulled hers back, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks.

“Reign, nice to meet you Terry. And yup, only been in this studio a few months. I was working out of my home before.” His eyes were piercing, she felt see through, and turned back to her desk to start drawing something for him. “Gimme like 15, feel free to look around!” She called over her shoulder, and it took Terry a moment to move, far too interested in watching her. 

He walked around her space with purposefully loud steps, mindful of not startling her again and glancing at her every once in a while. He picked up a binder from a floating shelf in front of him, flipping through the pages to see her drawings and creative polaroids of her work. He found himself drawn to her black and white pieces, struck by how realistic her portraits are. He flipped through more and more pages hoping to understand how her mind works, how she was able to capture a moment in time so realistically.

“Terry!” Her voice calling out to him had him coming to her immediately, surprisingly eager to be used as her next canvas. “What do you think?” She put her iPad in his hands and he listened as she explained what she wanted to do with the shadows and fading around the edges, but his mind was going back to the last time he fist bumped Mike, the last time he saw him alive.

“It’s perfect.” His voice was tight with emotions and Reign watched his jaw tick at holding back all the things he wanted to say. She wondered earlier if she’d regret taking work on her off day, but sensing the grief coming from this man, it must’ve been divine timing that sent him to her today.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you show me what size you want and where you’d like it?” Terry nodded and started taking off his shirt, and Reign took a surprised step back watching his body flex. He somehow looked even bigger now. She schooled her expression to be professionally indifferent as Terry pointed to his right pec, opposite his heart. 

“Here, and this big” he measured it out with his hands and Reign gave an awkward thumbs up, not trusting her voice just yet. She turned to print the stencil out for him and cleared her throat.

“Okay, we can do that. For that size my rate is-“

“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m grateful you took me in on your day off.” Reign shyly glanced back at him over her shoulder and locked eyes with his very earnest ones. She gave him a small smile and continued on to prepare everything she’d need. 

Terry watched her steady gloved hands come up to gently press the wet stencil onto his skin, he bent his legs slightly to make it easier for her, and she whispered out a thanks. He didn’t say anything, transfixed by her presence, her gentleness, the sweet jasmine scent he realized was coming from her. He unintentionally flexed his muscles under her touch and watched her swallow tensely. He wasn’t unaware of his effect on women, but he liked that she was actively trying to remain professional. It was cute. 

“You wanna take a look before we start?” Terry nodded and she showed him to a mirror, standing behind him and off to the side, watching his face for any signs of dissatisfaction. She finally got a genuine smile from him, tiny but meaningful, as his eyes gleamed at the outline of the fists on his chest.

“I love it” he turned to her and she could see the smile had actually reached his eyes, and she returned it right back to him “I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~

Terry, reclined in the comfortable leather seat, swept his eyes over Reign’s decorated skin while she worked on him, taking in the mismatched beauty and history of her story. “Did you do any of these yourself?” He asked quietly, referring to the artwork scattered on her body.

She pulled back from his arm to get more ink and glanced up at his face giving him a secretive grin. She was becoming addicted to his voice. It’s so deep, and quiet. There’s a heavy bass to it that could’ve been intimidating and over powering, but she could tell he’s choosing to be gentle and laid back. It was creating a growing intimacy between them that she hoped he felt too. 

“Mhm I did a few of these” she replied distractedly, now focused on putting more ink on her needle. 

“Which ones?” She liked his curiosity, and liked that he wanted to talk.

“Hmm I did this one on my thigh” she said offhandedly, now getting back to work, the hypnotic buzzing filling the space again.

He studied the imposing and fierce Medusa taking up most of her thigh, some of the snakes cut off by her shorts. The details were amazing, it almost looked like a Greek statue. Terry was impressed she did it upside down and it still looked stunning. 

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to upset the tranquil environment she’d created, but he wanted to know more of her story, now privy to the fact that the both of them have a painful past. He wants to know how she got to this point of inner peace, he wants to get there too. 

“Is it true?…what they say about Medusa tattoos?” She blinked at his question and her hands stilled, caught off guard, having gotten lost in the music still playing and the buzzing of her gun and the black ink on his smooth skin. 

Reign’s teeth worried her lip, biting and pulling as she debated whether to answer that or not. She chanced a look at his face and his piercing eyes locked with hers. She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide. Not everyone gets a Medusa tattoo for the same reason, but she knew exactly what he meant. She simply nodded and refocused her attention to the veins of the fist she’s crafting.

She continued working and missed the dark shadow that fell over his face. He was trying not to imagine what the sorry excuse for a human did to her, he was trying to ignore the urge to bring the matters of justice into his own hands. He was well equipped with delivering justice, and something about her let him know that she deserved her vengeance. She saw his fist clench from the corner of her eye, and she told herself he was reacting to the carve of the needle in his skin, not the weight of her truth. 

“I’m sorry that’s part of your story.” She gave him a surprised little grin, taking note of the gruffness in his voice she’d heard before.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, every protagonist experiences canon events. If this hadn’t been part of my story, I might not have this passion for creating safe spaces for people.” He stared at her face, her brows slightly furrowed and tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her attention was on marking him with pristine lines, so her honesty flowed from her unfiltered. 

He took in the entirety of her studio again with a new perspective. The healing warmth of the sun seeping in, the calming music lulling him into a state of serenity, the sectioned off booths that created some privacy for her clients but not so much that they feel caged in, the art on the walls depicting black love and black excellence. Damn. She did a hell of a good job creating lightness when the world can be so dark. He found that inspiring.

He wanted to ask her more but “Take You There” began to play from her speakers, and her voice softly hummed along, she was lost in her own world and he was happy to let her be. It was interesting watching her work. She seemed reserved and shy speaking with him before, but now her hands moved confidently, her expressions changed as she concentrated, her scent was positively intoxicating and her braids tickled his skin every time she moved her face closer to his body. 

The pain grew more intense as she shaded a particularly sensitive spot above his nipple, and Terry groaned quietly, tightly closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the seat. 

“I know I know, I’m sorry” Reigned murmured barely being heard above the sound of the tattoo gun, “You’re doing so well though Terry.” 

He tried not to react to that, but the mix of the pain keeping him grounded to her, and her sweet voice, it was getting to him. He hoped she didn’t look down any time soon. She had to roughly wipe the excess ink away from his skin before continuing, and he instinctively hissed at her through his teeth.

“I know soldier, we’ll be done soon” his eyes flew open at that and she paused to get more ink, looking him over. “I noticed the work on your arms. I’ve given my fair share of military tats” He nodded, forehead slightly damp from this whole ordeal.

“Do you wanna tell me about this one we’re doing today? Just if you’d like to share, I’ll be done in about an hour.” He didn’t say anything at first, just taking a quiet moment to feel the influx of emotions that bombarded him today, and she didn’t push him. Then he began to speak, gingerly revealing what happened in Shelby Springs, compelled by her peace to find healing in this moment. His eyes were clouded over, lost in the turmoil of his past, that he missed her frown of recognition. She’d heard about the horrors going on there in the news. Her heart ached for him.

She let him talk, and she listened intently as she worked, nodding and humming every now and then. He grew quiet and his whole face softened with his eyes closed as Reign drowned his freshly completed tattoo in the cold saline solution, gently wiping and repeating the process a few times.

She gave him a sad smile, so many thoughts swimming behind her eyes as she cleared the emotion from her throat before speaking. “All done” she tossed her gloves in the trash can, “lets go take a look.” She stood first, bending and stretching, her back popping from where it was curled over his body. Terry followed suit slowly, standing to his full height and stretching his arms over his head. 

Reign looked away quickly, walking over to the mirror to wait for him, begging her hormones to relax. This was not the time nor the place for this, he’s a new client for fucks sake. She shook her braids out of their messy bun to relieve the tension in her neck as she watched him approach from his reflection in the mirror. He eyed her form appreciatively, not at all subtle about it either, and she played with her hands, trying not to feel so small next to him. 

His eyes finally landed on his tattoo and immediately tears filled them. He hung his head silently as the tears fell down his cheeks and Reign panicked, not knowing what to do or say to help. She stepped closer, letting instinct guide her hand to gently rub his upper back. She peered around his body, trying to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and she watched his chest heave one deep shuddering breath. He brought big palms up to wipe his face before he looked up again, keeping her rooted to the spot with his sincere gaze. 

“Thank you.” his voice was so deep and swimming with emotions, and she felt a lump swelling in her own throat. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t at this moment, feeling a dam break within him. He just stared at her, imploring her with his eyes to understand the impact of what she’d gifted him. 

She nodded, rubbing his back one last time before stepping away from him. “You’re most welcome Terry, thank you for trusting me with your story.” It was his turn to nod, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  She turned away from him and went to find the wrap she would use to cover the tattoo, giving him some privacy with this new piece of his cousin he’d carry around with him forever. 

He made his way back to her when he was ready, and she began the quick process of covering his tattoo in protective wrap, explaining how to take care of it and telling him all the things he shouldn’t do in the next few days. Terry shrugged his shirt back on as she cleaned up the area they occupied, and he could fill a pit form in his stomach. He was hooked on her already, and the thought of leaving her so soon was bringing back the empty feeling he thought he’d left on the outside of her haven.

He sent her his payment from his phone, including an incredibly generous tip, and cut her off as she began to protest being paid double what she’d expected.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Reign.” She froze, rich brown eyes wide behind her lenses. He kept going at her hesitation, “I’m pretty new to the city, and I haven’t met anyone worth knowing here until you.” He stepped closer, invading her senses with his provocative woody scent. “I’d love for you to show me all the places that make you happy, and I heard the quickest way to anyone's heart is through the stomach.” 

Reign smiled at that, it somehow wasn’t corny coming from such a fine ass man. “You got me there soldier” Terry smiled back to her and took her phone from her grasp, placing his number in it and shooting himself a text. He looked at her from underneath his lashes giving the phone back, and she swore she felt her knees buckle at the devilishly playful glint in his eyes.

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She couldn’t resist his deep voice and overwhelming presence even if she wanted to, and her body had been growing warmer and warmer the longer he stayed in her space.

“I-I can make time for you” she stuttered embarrassingly at feeling the rough pad of his finger brushing her ear as he moved a braid out of her face.

“Good.” He walked backwards from her, hands in his pockets which seemed to make his biceps bulge, and he smiled softly at her “I’ll see you tomorrow pretty Reign.” he turned and she watched him saunter out the back of her studio, her breath returning to her when he was no longer in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuuuuck I didn't realize writing something without sex in it was so hard 😅 idk if I have the stamina for a slow burn but I will certainly try, just know that the smut will come with a damn vengeance! Please let me know what you think! this is my first time doing an original character 🥲💕

Taglist: @teddybeerz @liatreads @eviescloset @sageispunk @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @slutsareteacherstoo @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @megamindsecretlair

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[shaisuki]

Hi there, Shai !!

I'm like literally hooked to ur works!! THAY ARE AWESOME

Sooo I wanted to ask for something crazyyy (if u don't mind)

Can I get a chubby darling x yandere (pls put gojo and toji there) who get angry upon reader's escape plan being successful and when they find reader...they degrade reader + any smut u want

This is deranged. I'm sorry

Anyway, thanks for reading this( and I hope this doesn't bother u in any way)

(^-^)/

RUN AND YOU WILL FIND ME IN YOUR ARMS AGAIN

♱ featuring gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, Geto suguru

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ content warnings degradation, noncon, name calling, fingering, missionary, backshot, blowjob, dacryphilia, spitting, cum eating, babytrapping, edging. dead dove do not eat.

once it happened and they punished you like it's going to be your last.

GOJO SATORU

the vows haunted you. that no matter where you are, he will find you. throughout the heavens and earth and even in hell. you were free at last but never in the clutches of him. gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern times have you shivering even in the midst of summer.

“i will find you.”

that was the words he told you repeatedly plays in your mind. he says it everytime when you're with him. holding you closer, afraid that you'll leave him and he would be nothing without you. “you're the strongest, you are even without me.” you told him and he shakes his head. he knows it true and he only uses it to keep him grounded. he's not heartless and he's not cold and you made him feel warm but such warmth costs you your freedom just to let him feel those feelings.

“i told you, i will find you.”

you could pretend it was your imagination but it not, not when you feel him touching you. the desperation and need are evident and your eyes speaks for it.

the bed creaks and you're afraid that it will break but you hope so you can have a chance of escaping him again. however the grip he have on your wrists are tight and his large cock is nestled deeply inside your pussy. hitting your cervix multiple times that it made you weak but it doesn't stop from fighting him. the fresh scratches are evident in arms, back and chest. the skin pink staining his pale skin.

“you're one mean bitch.” he started. the blues of his eyes glimmering like crystals. “you think i'll let you have your freedom, you're wrong (y/n). you're always going to belong with me until the end of time.” he says. slamming his cock deep inside that it made him shiver from how tight your velvet walls squeeze around him. the impact of his hips to your upper body have your fat jiggling. your round stomach ripples and bulges. you breasts bouncing and gojo thinks how he can never let you go.

“you. are. mine.” the sharp thrusts of his hip are getting rougher as he spoke those three words. each syllable syncing with the slam of his hips and is harder and rougher than the last.

“you belong to me.” he repeatedly chant like a ritual. a ritual that will bind you forever to him. looking at you with his bright blue eyes. his white hair fluffed up and he never stops. he kisses you rough as he feels him nearing towards his end. his cock throbbing and he knows you are close to him from the way your pussy tightens around him.

and the knot in your stomach comes loose. you cried at the sensation of your pussy spasming around him. muffled by his lips and with a hard thrust, making sure that he's buried deeply inside you, he came. pumping you full of his cum. your legs trembling from it and he kisses the tears staining in your round cheeks. he's still cumming deep inside you like he remained celibate for the time you were gone and only to spill his load he have stored for the time he could not fucked you.

“feel that, my sweet wife. you're not going to leave me again. now that i've put my baby in you.”

NANAMI KENTO

“brats don't get to cum.” his words were awful and nanami isn't the one to spew and use vulgar words on you. he's always delicate with you and sings praises on you in the daily. it's a habit for him to tell how much he loves you and you will always matter to him.

the nanami kento you knew isn't like that for today or maybe the next days to come. he got you laying on your stomach. he's behind you. surveying the body of his brat of a wife whom he have committed another crime but it is a crime to take what's rightfully yours?

nanami takes pride on his restraint no matter how many times you have disobeyed him. you were not still acclimated to the life he introduced you to since he took you away from the world and force to live in his but leaving in the world he built for you, it's another story and it's time for you to learn.

he's been at it for long. you forgot to count the time how he got your ass sore from the spanking and shoving his cock to your sopping cunt. dripping wet as he pistons himself deep inside you. his pelvis hitting your ass as he drives himself into you. putting you in a torturous place where he got your wide hips being held by his large calloused palm keeping you in place. the sheets were stained by your tears while you cry out. begging him to stop and maybe let you cum.

“i-i'm sorry, ken. won't do it—ahhhh—gain. please l-let me c-cum.” you whined. your hips are moving on its own trying to match his pace. showing that you're good to him and maybe he'll let you cum but you've been really bad for escaping him and maybe you shouldn't begged but it was starting to get painful from how he was denying you of release.

“i'm sorry, darling. you need to learn from your mistakes.” and with that he keeps fucking you until you can't think of escaping him again.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

emerald eyes belonging to the man of your living nightmare studied you. forcing you on your knees and the scar on his lip twitches. relishing to the delight of your tear-stained round cheeks. he holds the shaft of his cock. bringing the sensitive glans to your lips before smearing it with his precum. beading in the tip of his cock and it was your makeshift lipstick. highlighting your lip color with his white cum.

“lick it, you whore.” your lips wobble. swiping the cum in your lips, you cringe slightly at the bitter taste of his cum assaulting your taste buds. “that's right, you fucking slut. i bet you missed the taste of my cum, you're a hungry bitch who loves to eat his man's cum.” his fingers digs your scalp forcing you to look at him and he's ordering you to open your mouth and although you don't want to, you're doing it. afraid he'll get worse after this and you welcomed the thick glob of his spit. swallowing it eagerly and opening your mouth to show that you've swallowed. it earns a deep laugh from him.

“do i love to mess this pretty face of yours, princess. that's good considering you love my punishments, hah, tell me, princess.” slapping you with his cock to your cheek and you obediently say the words that he knows he likes to hear.

“i'm a bad girl. i deserve to be punished.” you told him and his grin got wider.

he's big. painfully huge that your jaw is starting to go slack but you fought through it. breathing through your nose and relaxing your jaw to take more of him and it appears that he's pleased. you began to flick your tongue in his length before swirling the tip of his cock with your tongue. he began to move and when he did. it hits the back of your throat. tears appearing in your eyes.

“s-shit, that's it. take more of my cock, you bitch.” following, you take more of him until you used your hand to stroke his aching cock that wasn't able to fit in your mouth. a muffled moan came slipping when toji began to drive his cock to your mouth. holding your head with his firm grip. ruthless when he fucks your mouth. rolling his hips with such want and the instinct to fuck.

“fuck! fuck! f-fuck!” cursing at the sensation of your warm mouth. “i'm going to cum in this mouth of yours and you're not going to waste a single drop.” he halted before shoving his cock deeply inside your mouth and releasing his load. you almost choke from it. saliva connects to your lip and to the tip of his cock when he pulled out. some of his cum dripping from your mouth and you catch it with your hands. licking his cum from your hands and swallowing all of it and he seems pleased with what you've done.

“look at you, you can still obey and yet, you go running away from me. punishment's not over. get on all fours and spread your cheeks, i'm going to fuck this tight hole of yours.” his fingers came stretching your other hole and you never felt fear the same way again after that day.

GETO SUGURU

the thing with suguru is, he never turns a blind eye to your wrongdoings. there's always a reprimanding that comes to it next. he's never been weak to your puppy eyes even it glistens with tears. looking at him with pleading eyes. it simply doesn't work on him.

“pathetic, you can't make yourself cum and you dare leave.” his fingers making your cunt squelch. stretching your hole with his thick fingers while your legs are hooked to his arms. “-m sorry, i won't do it again.” a sob coming from you as you meet his fingers trying to get them deeper inside you. “i know you won't, you pathetic slut.” his fingers curling inside your gummy walls and your responds in such a lewd way. sucking his fingers in and suguru chuckles at you. “you slut, you like being called slut, hmm. sucking my fingers in like a slut you are.”

whining, you can't help it. not when it's so good when his thick fingers are deep inside you and you're near to cumming. grinding your pussy to his fingers. your brain singing for more to shove his fingers faster. your high getting nearer and just when you're about to cum, he stops. geto tuts. “i'll let you cum when i want, not when you want it.” his hard on pressing in the back of your ass.

“maybe, i'll let you after you've earned it.”

[lovelywingsart]

'It's not like I'm walkin' alone into the valley of the shadow of death Stand beside one another, cause it ain't over yet I'd be willing to bet that if we don't back down You and I'll be the ones that are holding the crown in the end

When it's over, we can say well done But not yet cause it's only begun So pick up and follow me, we're the only ones To fight this thing until we've won

We drive on and don't look back It doesn't mean we can't learn from our past And all the things that we might've done wrong We could've been doing this all along

Everybody with your fist raised high Let me hear your battle cry tonight Stand beside or step aside We're on the frontline'

'Frontline' - Pillar

---

POV You're Miranda about to get your shit absolutely fucking wrecked by a human and 4 pissed off mutants

---

A massive and very important scene in the Survival AU, where the unthinkable come together to defeat a common enemy-

The Lords and Ethan band together to fight Mother Miranda, ultimately winning their freedom and new life.

A story that could- and should- have been, giving the families a chance to survive.

//Finally, about 50 fucking hours later, this is DONE. IT'S COMPLETE.//

HAVE SOME EXTRE VIEWS OF DETAIL BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

50 fucking hours.

I started crying once I finished it, because I realized that THIS is what I will be showing Neil and Maggie.

THIS is what I've spent so much time on.

THIS is probable the thing I will ever be the most proud of.

Literally any and all shares are so appreciated, I desperately do not want this to flop and will share it so many times if I have to.

[perfectlyoongi]

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who can’t control his sarcasm. for Namjoon, it was all fun: the way you talked about others, how you told your adventures with others, how you praised them — it was so ridiculous, Namjoon just couldn’t take it. oh, of course you loved having breakfast with the other, it wasn’t even at the cheapest cafe in town or anything. it was obvious that you laughed at that story, it was so comical that it could only be invented by a child. Namjoon couldn’t take it, and he was even amazed that you didn’t realize how desperate they all were for your attention — are you sure you aren’t a substitute for the lack of paternal love they felt? “oh, my angel, i’m not saying you have bad taste. what i’m saying is that you have peculiar taste when it comes to partners.”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who knows perfectly well that you don’t deserve those poor souls. you were so much better than any of them. you, your person, your soul, your essence deserved something more true, more lasting, than the mere whims of people who just wanted something from you. none of these people wanted your entirety: no one wanted your messy hair when you woke up, no one wanted your tears from the loneliest nights, no one wanted your darker side, the one you didn’t show to anyone. they all just wanted your smile, your laugh, the persona you were in every social situation. you didn’t deserve to be reduced to a few hours of existence. you lived 24 hours, and during those 24 hours you were divine anyway — they were so blind for not seeing you. “just listen to me. you are an incredible person. you are extremely beautiful inside and out. your personality is divine. you are divine. yea? you with me? good. now they…”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who tells you again and again that you were happier with him. Namjoon only had one argument that he used every time he wanted to ask you to stay with him; it was just a question, simple words that danced on his lips and made you seriously consider whether all your relationships were, in fact, true — after all, why be reduced to a particle of your existence when you could be full next to Namjoon? “i don’t understand why you don’t want me. no, i’m not kidding. i’m very serious. you should give me a chance and see if i’m right.”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who likes to scare away your suitors by holding you by the waist. Namjoon had a special pleasure in seeing the humiliated faces of those who wanted you. when he noticed more sadistic smiles and more absurd conversations, Namjoon would waltz towards you with a smile of pleasure on his lips. intruding into the conversation without any difficulty, and eagerly participating in the discussion, Namjoon would very gently and sneakily hold onto your waist, carefully pulling you closer to him. and with the smile still stuck on his lips and his eyes shining in a light of victory, Namjoon was happy to see everyone else walking away from you with defeated eyes. “but i heard he— hello, darling. how was i saying, i heard he was in spain, is that true?”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who asks why you said “sorry” when refusing others’ advances. ‘i’m with him, sorry’. sorry? sorry? what do you mean sorry? what, you wanted to go with them but you didn’t want to leave Namjoon alone? you wanted to accept their sly conversations but you didn’t want to leave Namjoon aside? sorry? why sorry? why not a simple ‘i’m with him, period.’ i’m with him, that’s all. sorry? no. you couldn’t say sorry. “sorry? what? you want me to leave so you can have some freedom, is that it? if you have so much sorry, you can tell me and i’ll leave now.”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who tells everyone who asks that he is his boyfriend. if you felt sorry for being with Namjoon, it was only logical for him to introduce himself as your boyfriend. i mean, what other reason was there for you to excuse others? yes. Namjoon was your boyfriend. he held your hand, smiled at strangers, always had you with him, he was your boyfriend. i mean, he was a boy and he was your friend, so he wasn’t lying. he was your boy friend. he was your boyfriend. “yes, yes, we are dating. it’s been… how long, darling? two years, right? yea, truly my soulmate, i knew it from the beginning.”

JEALOUS!NAMJOON who explains to you why he was acting like that when you yelled at him. you wanted him to stop for a bit. you wanted him to take a deep breath and let you participate in conversations and events without having to worry about scaring people away. you asked for something simple: just for him to leave you alone. you just asked him to let you live. but how was Namjoon supposed to leave you alone when he knew everyone desired you and no one wanted you? how was Namjoon supposed to let you live when he knew everyone wanted to corrupt you and no one wanted to take care of you? don’t you realize he was just watching over you? “ok, sorry! but it hurts me to see you trying to find a life away from me. don’t you realize that everything i’ve been doing is because i can’t see you with anyone else? don’t you understand that i like you and i’m being honest when i ask you to give me a chance? is this so hard to understand?”

[qqueenofhades]

Hello, qqueenofhades!

I just want to say, that ever since I discovered you in the week following Biden stepping down, you've actually made me not dread talking about politics. I look forward to your thoughts on what's going on, and I want to thank you for that.

I would love to know: What do you think of the apparent exhaustion from Republicans/MAGA about Trump? People leaving his rallies (and that's not even covering how few are even coming at all or his supposedly needing to pay people to come), and the slew of formers we see at the DNC openly talking about their change in sides. Do you have any ideas about what might be causing this shift? Was it Harris? Was it Jan. 6th? Was it one singular reason, or multiple at once?

Hope you're having a good day.

I think it's a lot of reasons. First, as I said earlier, the whole theme of the DNC is about reclaiming the USA FREEDOM message from the Republicans, who have had a monopoly on it for the past three decades at least and used it to justify even more antidemocratic fascist militant theocratic hard-right turns. The scenes of joyful people talking rousingly about hope, compassion, morning in America, and breaking out into regular USA! USA! chants appeals a lot to the average American, who doesn't want to hear constant violent and negative bile from the Orange Felonious Traitor, because that is literally the only thing he has to offer and it's getting openly more deranged and dangerous every day. The whole Tough Talking Populist Outsider shtick worked in 2016, when Trump didn't have four years of incompetent chaos as the actual president and was just a theoretical concept who a lot of people thought would "smarten up" and take it seriously if he actually won. Likewise, the backlash of white grievance against Obama and the complacency that Trump didn't actually stand a chance was able to be leveraged against the decades of smears that the GOP had already leveled on HRC. Of course, Trump lost the popular vote by 3 million-plus, but the Electoral College did what it's designed to do and he snuck in anyway. But it wasn't a rousing landslide or a thumping victory.

As such, a lot of Reagan Republicans are now turning to the Democrats as the actual pro-USA party, because Trump trash-talks America, calls it a shithole third-world country, bellows about WWIII and the Great Depression, cozies up to foreign dictators, etc etc. Reagan also pitched the sunny message of America as the shining moral hero of the world (he in fact used the Make America Great Again slogan that Trump repurposed), and that likewise resonated with people after the chaos and unrest of the 1970s. Now, we all know that I hate Reagan's ass and I hope he's burning in hell for so many reasons, but his message was effective because it gave people a soaring rhetorical vision to believe in (even while he was often stripping away their economic prosperity in particular behind the scenes, all together now, FUCK REAGAN). But the Republicans who joined the 1980s party are now seeing Republicanism become a tawdry cult centered on, as Geoff Duncan (GOP former Lt. Gov. of Georgia) put it yesterday, the worship of a felonious thug. Trump is wildly anti-America; he only uses it as a vehicle to get what he wants, because Donald Trump is all that Donald Trump cares about. Yes, there are still plenty of brainwashed cultists in numbers great enough to make this election far, far closer than it should ever be in any sane universe, but increasingly even his own cultists don't want to hear it anymore. They keep leaving before the event is over and he's drawing far smaller crowd sizes than in 2016, which as we know is pretty much all he cares about. He has a desperate need for attention and approval to feed his damaged narcissistic-sociopath dementia-riddled brain, and he's just not getting it, while the very real prospect looms that if he loses this election (and it looks more and more like he will) he will go to jail for the rest of his life. Terrifying.

That's why we have the unprecedented spectacle of lifelong Republicans and former Trump voters flocking to Harris in large numbers. We've had Republican speakers at the DNC every night, and they keep playing video montages of former Trump voters disavowing him or explaining that they won't vote for him. If you consider what propelled Trump in 2016 -- conservative white grievance against a black guy named Barack Obama -- the willingness to unhesitatingly embrace a black/mixed-race WOMAN named Kamala Harris is incredible. Many of them were already planning to vote for Biden before he dropped out, but it was no certain thing that they would move from being willing to vote for an establishment old white guy to also being willing to vote for a woman and a person of color. The fact that we've had so many high-profile affinity group Zoom events for Harris, including from truly unbelievable quarters (Republicans for Harris, Mormons for Harris, EVANGELICAL CHRISTIANS for Harris), shows that there is a country-wide exhaustion with Trump's poisonous selfish grievance performances, where he's willing to do anything to anyone and turn the USA into a fascist dictatorship if it will exempt him, personally, from the consequences of his odious actions. That is not a message that any sane person can support, and more and more, they don't. As I have said before, that is why fascist movements always sow the seeds of their own destruction. They work for a while, but eventually they're boring, they're mean, they're exhausting, and they offer nothing for anyone but being angry all the time at everyone. Most humans don't like that, and eventually, they drift away.

I also think that part of the reason Kamala absolutely nailed it with Tim Walz as VP is because Walz is the literal anti-MAGA in every way. We have seen a lot of similar straight white military-vet football-coach-type Middle America older men drift into MAGA grievance politics because it offers a home for guys like them and feeds on fear of the future and fear of the other. They feel like they're being heard and understood, even if they aren't, and they vote Republican because they've grown up with Republicans being the pro-America party (however defined). But because Walz is a straight white married military-vet football-coach guy who actually models a joyful and compassionate masculinity, an openly emotional and supportive masculinity, who talks movingly about his love for his wife and children, who is a hunter and gun owner who nonetheless loves kids more than guns, who has taken his small-town rural-America values and become an effective and genuinely progressive politician focused on making ordinary people's lives better, he offers a total antidote to MAGAism. He shows that it is possible to be a traditionally manly American straight white guy who is not a gibbering conspiracy theory-addled shitbag dedicated to trampling on everyone else out of reactionary fear. He shows those guys that they can embrace the diverse future and not have to fear it, and he gives them a permission structure to vote for Democrats because it's the right thing to do AND feel that the Democrats are now the real pro-America party.

Basically, right now, Walz is the most popular member on either ticket, and he's crushing Vance into oblivion (there's something like a 27-point difference in their favorable/unfavorable spreads) because Vance is a horrible robotic hateful gremlin and Walz is an authentic and genuine person who a lot of traditionally Republican-affiliated men (and women!) can identify with. He's also the guy who came up with the devastating "weird" attack line that the GOP can do nothing with except splutter and whine, like playground bullies, that no YOU'RE THE WEIRD ONE. He models that it's actually normal to want your leaders to be compassionate human beings who want to use power to make your lives better, and not hateful fascist alt-righters dedicated to making you also hate everyone and be steeped in doom and gloom. That is why people responded so well to Obama in 2008 after the turmoil of the Bush Jr. years, and why this feels even more monumental than Obama. We won't know until the votes are counted, but this giant tsunami just rose out of nowhere when Harris took over, and it's speeding forward in a really incredible way. We've got to do the work and we've got to vote, but if we do, we could absolutely pulverize Trump and MAGA to smithereens in a way that means it wouldn't be able to come back for a good long while, and oh, what a glorious day that would be. So yes.

[shrewsburysworld]

YANDERE POPULAR BOY JUNGKOOK | PART 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Warning:- Accusations of infidelity, murder, delusion behaviour.

*This is a fan fiction. completely fictional. The behaviour of characters in this fiction is not something to emulate. You are responsible for your own consumption. Thank you.*

Yandere Jungkook spoiled you rotten with his luxury, be it the latest market pieces of jewellery or designer clothes.

Yet it never fascinated you, your world became a gilded prison. he showered you with every comfort, yet it was a life devoid of freedom.

Jungkook believed his love was pure and his obsession was justified. To him you were everything, he didn't force you to sleep with him. and you were thankful for that. Maybe he actually loved you, but he was a mentally ill person.

You felt sorry but being trapped in your golden cage began to suffocate you under the weight of his so-called love.

So you took your chance and tried to play with his mind and sanity. you accused him of things he couldn't understand - infidelity, deceit - things that baffled him because his devotion to you was absolute.

One evening, in the grand but empty mansion you shared, you confronted Jungkook. "You're seeing someone else, aren't you?" you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes.

You couldn't afford to take someone else's name because what if he hurt them, you know he is capable of doing that. Jungkook stared at you confused and hurt. "No!! There's no one but you. How could you think that?"

But you wouldn't listen. You wanted out, wanted to escape the suffocating grip of a love that was slowly killing you. In your desperation, you filed for a divorce, hoping to use the accusation of infidelity as your escape route.

The thought of losing you Jungkook to madness. He didn’t understand your accusations, but if there was someone you believed he was cheating with, that person had to be eliminated. His love for you was so consuming that it twisted his logic, turning his actions into something dark and dangerous.

Jungkook began to watch those around him, scrutinizing every woman he interacted with, searching for a hint of the betrayal you believed existed. Then, one day, a colleague’s innocent touch on his arm during a business meeting ignited a spark of rage within him. She was the one you feared. She was the one who would take you away from him.

Driven by his delusion, Jungkook arranged a meeting with the colleague, luring her under the guise of business. It was there, in a secluded penthouse suite, that he ended her life with cold precision. He felt no remorse—only a sense of duty fulfilled, believing he had removed the threat to his marriage.

When you heard the news, you were horrified. Jungkook confessed to you, not out of guilt, but out of love. “I did it for us, Baby!!. She was the reason you wanted to leave. Now we can be together, without anyone coming between us.”

Your blood ran cold. You realized that your accusations, born out of a desperate need to escape, had pushed Jungkook over the edge. His love was not just obsessive; it was deadly. You was trapped, more than ever, in a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Jungkook, oblivious to the terror in your eyes, pulled you close, whispering sweetly, “Now, my love, you’ll never leave me.”

As the walls of the mansion seemed to close in on her, your dreams of freedom shattered like glass. You were his, forever bound by a love that was as painful as it was powerful.

*This is original work. Do not copyright*

Hey Army!! Thank you so much for loving Yandere Jungkook series. If you guys have any further ideas or imaginations for the continuation of this series drop a message/request. 🫶🫶

[bigbigpushes]

Beneath The Stars

It was a warm night, 2am and the sky was clear, full of shimmering stars. Ellie found herself sat on her back deck, swaying slowly as she stared up at them. She had been hoping when she had gone to bed just after ten pm that the twinges of pain she had been feeling were just braxton hicks, she had two weeks before her due date and her best friend, Lana, who had promised to be her birth partner had needed to go out of town unexpectedly for a funeral. But after two hours of fitful sleep, she had woken to a tightening in her abdomen that she knew had to be the real deal.

Ellie had wanted a home birth, even before she had known for sure that she was pregnant, she had known that she wanted to bring her baby into the world in her own home, luckily for her, her pregnancy had been smooth sailing and after a hesitant call to her midwife, Maggie, her plan was going ahead. The sound of her front door opening, came as a contraction began to build, she set her focus on the pain, breathing through it as Maggie came to join her.

Three and a half minutes, that’s all she was getting between the pain already. First labours tended to be slow, that’s what everyone had to her, but Ellie wasn’t so sure that was going to apply to her.

“Hi Maggie.” The labouring redhead looked up, smiling at the midwife, a kind, older woman, the two had met a few months before and had gotten on as if they had been friends years. “Hi, love. How are you feeling?” Maggie asked her, crouching beside her. “Tired.” Ellie’s hands rested against her belly, blowing out a slow breath. “I only managed a couple hours of sleep. It’s happening so fast, but my water hasn’t broken yet. I just, can we stay out here? Just a little longer?” There was a light breeze blowing through, cooling her warm skin, calming the nerves she couldn’t shake of Lana not being there.

“Of course, we’ll stay as long as you need.” Ellie knew Maggie would keep her word. She had wanted a home birth for the freedom it provided her, of the chance to sit in her yard if need be, the thought of being anywhere else had almost sent her into a panic.

The next hour and a half was spent pacing deck, contractions building fast. “Oh god, not again.” Her breaths came out quickly, her muscles holding her uterus in a vice grip as her body worked to bring her child into the world. In an hour Ellie’s contractions had gone from three and a half minutes apart to just one, the intensity growing with each one. She braced herself against her outdoor sofa, trying to breathe through it as Maggie pressed against her back, the counter pressure keeping her grounded. “Good, good job, baby is well on their way, are you sure you don’t want to go inside, love?” Maggie asked her once the contraction had passed, she was met with a shake of the head, she had been asking after each contraction for the last thirty minutes and each time, Ellie had said now, content to stay under the stars.

Taking advantage of the break, Ellie moved to sit on the edge of the sofa, legs spread wide as she caught her breath, taking a quick sip of water. “How am I doing, Mags?” She asked, surely she had to be close, she thought. She bit her lip as Maggie checked her, eyes widening as she was told she was at ten centimetres. “Waters are bulging too, you’ll be wanting to push before much longer, we really should go in after this next contraction.” As much as Ellie did want to, she knew her midwife was right.

A sigh leaving her lips, the redhead shifted to stand when a contraction hit and with it, a desperate need to push that Ellie couldn’t resist, it was as if her body had taken control, bearing down without her thinking any further, it was instinct. Her midwife simply coached her through it, counting softly, reminding her to breath until the contraction subsided.

“I, I couldn’t, I had to.” Ellie tried to explain through heavy breaths, Maggie just patting her knee, “I know, Ellie, I know.” Her voice was soft, comforting in a way that she needed to hear. “We should get inside.” The mother to be managed to stand at such a speed that would have surprised her were she not so focused on giving birth. With the other woman right beside her, one arm around her waist and a hand in hers, she only made it a few steps before she was pushing again.

She grunted as she pushed, feeling her waters bulging as she opened with each effort. The contraction held long enough for three pushes, the last one ending with a pop and a splash, her waters finally breaking.

Quickly coming up with a plan, Maggie helped Ellie make it back to the sofa, a reassuring, confident smile on her face. “Baby is coming fast, love. Are you comfortable out here?” She asked, waiting for a nod before continuing, “okay, I’m going to bring everything I need out here, I’ll be so fast and then we’ll have a baby.” She smiled, squeezing her hand before running off inside.

Her midwife was only gone a short time, ninety seconds at most, but it was long enough, sat on the edge of the cushion, Ellie couldn’t fight that need to push again. She bared down as her belly contracted, feeling her child move through her birth canal. “Mags! Mags! It burns, oh god, it’s burning.” She screamed, the head crowning, her opening stretching around it as Maggie ran out.

Ellie was breathing heavily as she waited for the next contraction, she knew Maggie was quickly preparing everything before she felt her hands gently helping her to stretch. She bit her lip, eyes watering as her muscles squeezed, and she pushed again, unable to keep herself quiet, screaming against the burning stretch, not caring if she woke the neighbours. She pushed and she pushed, gasping for hair as the head popped free. “Pant, just pant love until I say you can push.” Maggie was saying, checking for the cord as Ellie panting against the strong urge to continue.

“I want to catch them. Can I, please?” Ellie asked, the sudden desire to do so coming to her. The cord was clear, she already knew that and as Maggie nodded, helping her bring her hands down to support the head, she couldn’t fight the grin, or the tears of joy as she felt her baby’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready, love.”

Just a few moments later, Ellie could no longer fight the pressure, pushing hard. One shoulder and then another came free as her midwife guided her hands. Another contraction building, instinct guiding her, she was baring down, her daughter leaving her body and entering the world with a strong cry.

Beneath the stars, at 4:01am, Ellie brought her daughter to her chest, smiling happily, crying tears of joy as she held her close. At 4:03am, her eyes opened wide as her belly contracted again and she felt the urge to push again, intuition telling her this was more than just the afterbirth. “Maggie. I think there’s another one…”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

She Said What (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Seeing Gary get down on one knee shattered you. Tasting Melissa on your lips put you back together again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

It was like taking a knife to the gut, twisting in your intestines, leaving you gasping for breath. You weren’t meant to be there. Eyes darting around the room, you were desperate for escape. You couldn’t breathe. One step back, then another, you fled down the hall before you could hear the answer.

Gary had asked Melissa to marry him. And you, like an idiot, had fallen completely in love with her.

When it had been nothing but a relationship, kept on the outskirts, it was easier. Avoiding the break room on Tuesdays, not asking about weekend plans or prying to much into her relationship, you could keep your friendship with her devoid of any details. It was easier that way. You couldn’t be plagued of thoughts of the two of them together. If you didn’t think about it, your jealousy couldn’t run rampant, ruining your friendship with her.

Now though…

You’d be seeing the ring on her finger. You might be invited to the wedding. She might change her last name. It would be everywhere, in your face, reminding you how the woman you love was not yours to love. That your chance with her had slipped away.

Career day was a bust and you needed escape and yet you were trapped in your classroom with the kids, praying the clock would speed up and you would have your freedom. Right now, Melissa was somewhere in the building, a new sparkly ring on her finger, joy in her heart, desperate to go home and celebrate with her new fiancé.

You felt sick at the thought.

The bell rung and you thanked the mechanic who had come to speak to your class, shaking his oil stained hand. Sinking down onto your chair, you buried your head in your hands, letting out a long breath. You would have groaned if not for being in a place anyone walking past could hear. All you wanted was to pack up your stuff and go home, curling up in your bed and letting yourself give in to the pressure building behind your eyes.

“You look like you’ve had a day about as good as mine.”

You startled, looking up from the hands your head was resting in. Melissa was walking into your classroom, hands thrust into the pockets of her leather jacket. You blinked, trying to rearrange your face into something celebratory, not the despair you’d been feeling all afternoon. Stretching your lips into a smile, you felt it stiffen as you looked at her.

“Hey,” you said, “congratulations. I saw the feed. It was a beautiful proposal.”

“It was,” she agreed, resting against the edge of one of the student’s desks, much as she had at the front of her classroom when Gary got down on one knee.

“You must be so happy,” you said.

“Not really,” she replied with a small shrug.

“Well, not when you’re here with me but I bet Gary is waiting at home for you to celebrate,” you said, offering her a sheepish smile.

“He better not be. I don’t need another restraining order,” she said.

“Ha, yeah,” you said, “wait, what?”

She quirked an eyebrow up at you. You had no ides what was going on, on the back foot of the conversation so quickly. When her lips quirked up, you lost any words to try and fix whatever situation you’d found yourself in.

“Hon, did you see my answer?” she asked.

“Of course I did,” you replied, laughing uncomfortably.

She sighed, shoulders relaxing, “I said no.”

“What?” That was not what you were expecting.

“I said no. You know I have no interest in being married again. He didn’t listen no matter how many times I told him. We want different things,” she said.

‘So you…?” You didn’t want to assume after your last assumption had gone so badly.

“We broke up,” she said.

“Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.”

You made your way around your desk, perching beside her. You found her leaning against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against you as you curled an arm around her waist. Her head rested against you, shifting closer.

“It’s better we realised. No resentment, no cheating, no attempted murder. A clean break before anyone could get really hurt,” she said.

“Still, it sucks,” you said.

“Yeah, it does,” she sighed.

“I really am sorry,” you said.

“Really? I always got the impression you didn’t really like him,” she said.

You stiffened. She drew away from you, turning those beautiful green eyes onto you. You tried to stutter out an answer, to refute her claim, to lie right to her face. But there was nothing. No words came out and you were left staring at her, anxiety swooping in your stomach.

“You were never comfortable when I talked about him so I stopped but I always wondered what was wrong with him,” she said.

“Is that why you said no?” Guilt curled in your stomach.

“Of course not. I really don’t want to get married again. Once was enough. I guess I’m just curious what you saw in him,” she said.

“I didn’t really know him,” you said, offering her a non-committal shrug.

“But you didn’t like him,” she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“It was nothing about him. I’m sure he was fine. Nice even. And you loved him. He wasn’t a bad guy as far as I could tell,” you said.

“He’s not. But I thought we were good enough friends that you’d be honest with me,” she said.

Guilt again, washing over you, wave after wave. She was still looking at you, a small lopsided smile both sad and hopeful. You sighed, leaning into her again, not wanting those eyes assessing you anymore.

“It wasn’t about him. I mean sure, I thought you could do better but it was more to do with me. I didn’t want that to get between us and ruin our friendship,” you said.

“Can’t you just tell me what the issue was?” she asked.

“I don’t think that will make you feel better,” you said.

She hopped off the desk, moving to stand in front of you. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, averting your eyes down to your hands clasped between your thighs. With a forefinger, she tilted your chin up until you were looking back in her eyes.

“I can handle it, hon,” she said.

“Mel,” you sighed, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, “unless he was the man who mugged your nanna.”

“I don’t think he was,” you said, giving her a weak smile.

“So what is it?”

The finger on your chin was practically burning your skin. You took a deep breath, anxiety making your fingertips tingle and your stomach roil. She was still watching you and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was swimming in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to hear about your relationship because… because…” You squeezed your eyes shut, “because I was jealous.”

“Aw, hon, you’ll find your guy one day,” she said, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

That was not the answer you were expecting. You peeked over to her, her smile softened as she looked at you. You shook your head.

“Not of your relationship,” you said, shoulders slumping, not wanting to keep the secret after coming so close to telling her, “of him.”

“What?” she asked, her smile slipping for a moment.

“Mel,” you sighed, “I’ve been half in love with you for a while now. And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with Gary because I don’t like you hurting. I don’t want you think this is me trying to swoop in the second you’re single. I’m not that unfeeling.”

The smile had completely left her face, eyes widening and the shock evident. You could only stare at her, waiting for some kind of reaction. Mostly you were waiting to be told to get the hell away from her and never speak to her again. Her hands landed on your knees, fingers digging in as she gripped you hard.

“Hon,” she said, voice catching and you squeezed your eyes closed again, waiting for the slap, “can you look at me?”

You opened your eyes again. She was peering into your face, eyes swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name. Her lips were quirked at the corners, just enough for your heart to begin beating double time. Hands slid further up your legs as she lent towards you. You didn’t know what was going on and you were scared to move. Frozen under her touch, all you could do was stare back at her.

“I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me,” she said.

“Would it have made a difference?” you asked.

“Of course, hon. If I’d known…” She shook her head.

“It’s fine. I won’t make it weird. We can still be friends. It’ll be like you never knew,” you said, panic beginning to set in. You were desperate not to lose her in all of this. This was like your worst nightmare coming to life before your very eyes.

“I didn’t just break up with Gary because he wanted to get married,” she said, interrupting you before you could continue rambling your reassurances, “there was a part of me that knew I had feelings for you. He couldn’t be my miracle when there was someone else.”

“What?” You couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.

“I wish you’d said something earlier, hon. If I’d known then Gary and I would have never gotten to this point,” she said. Her hands were still moving further up your legs until they were holding your hips.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“Hon, I’m saying I have feelings for you too,” she said, a smile breaking over her face, bright and heartbreaking and everything you’d wanted to see for so long, “I know this probably isn’t the right time to say it but you’re hot and I like you.”

“You just broke up with Gary,” you said.

“I did. Doesn’t change how I feel about you,” she said, shrugging.

“This is an emotional rollercoaster.” Your lips stretched into a smile, small and soft and the way she seemed to melt at the sight of it only had you reeling again, “isn’t this too soon?”

“Yeah, probably, so we’ll take it slow,” she said.

“Slow?”

“Look, I dunno how this is gonna go but I do know that I like you enough that I want to give this a go. I’ve been single for a few hours and I’m probably going to have to deal with stuff from ending my relationship with Gary so we’ll take it slow and figure it out together. Sound good?”

You thought about it, turning it over in your mind. You’d thought, in your wildest dreams, that if you were offered the chance to be with Melissa you’d grab it with both hands but coming right off the back of her break up it felt… tenuous. But giving it a chance might be the best thing you could do, if only to not have to think about the what if on your death bed.

“Slow sounds good,” you said.

She relaxed, as if she’d been bracing herself for rejection. The smile on her face grew more sure of itself, more playful as she lent in. You shivered when her breath hit your skin, and you looked up into sparkling green eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up under her gaze and blinked, trying to take in her beauty. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you worried at it, breath frozen, watching her with wide eyes and racing heart.

“Must say, hon, you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous,” she said.

“Nervous?” you managed to squeak out, “I’m not nervous.”

“No?” she asked, drawing closer again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “are you sure?”

“Mel,” came out as a strangled noise, “this doesn’t feel slow.”

“Feels like I’m moving pretty slowly to me,” she replied, lips slow to press to your cheek.

A small noise came from your parted lips. She chuckled, drawing back far enough for you to see the way her eyes were smouldering as they focused in on your lips. You found yourself leaning toward her, drawn into her orbit, the gravity of her dragging you closer.

“I suppose one kiss isn’t so fast,” you murmured.

“I’m glad you agree,” she said.

Her lips pressed to yours, muffling a gasp. Arms wound around her neck, fingers burying themselves in red curls. Her fingers dug into your hips, hauling you closer until you were on the edge of the desk, her body caught between your thighs. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, teeth nipping when you moaned into her mouth.

If this was slow, you could get on board with it.

She drew back, making you whimper, fingers tightening on her hair. She placed one last chaste kiss to your lips before disentangling your fingers. The step she took back made you feel bereft before you reminded yourself that today wasn’t about you. You couldn’t imagine the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on that day. Your’s had been bad enough.

“Can we renegotiate this going slow thing?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed, no matter how much you wished you could, “we should go slow. I mean, what are your plans tonight?”

“Drinking wine until I don’t feel embarrassed that I turned down a proposal in front of Jalen Hurts,” she replied.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an indulgent smile even as your heart raced.

She chuckled, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, taking another step back from you. Your teeth sunk into your lip, swollen from her kisses, as you considered her.

“You might be onto something,” she said.

“But maybe, when the embarrassment has dimmed a bit, we can go out,” you said.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said.

“Great, well…” A smile was taking over your face, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I suppose you will,” she said.

Watching her back out of the room, all you wanted to do was reach out and pull her back to you. She paused in the doorway before she strode back to you, both hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you so thoroughly you lost any train of thought you might have been having. Nodding to herself, she turned her back on you, striding out. You watched her, dumbstruck, wondering how you’d somehow managed to get so lucky.

From the absolute travesty of seeing Gary propose to her to ending with the promise of a date and the taste of her still on your lips. You had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Power Imbalance, Mind Control

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Zhongli, despite his nature as the Archon of Geo, isn't as restrictive as one might think at first. Quite the opposite, actually. He'll say it himself, as he forces you to stay still in his strong arms, trapped inside his Adeptal Domain. He wishes he could give you more privileges, but he simply can't trust you.

Of course, you press him about this, you say he can trust you. With no other option but to fight for any scraps of freedom you can get, you're willing to grovel on your knees for anything, as much as you hate yourself for doing so.

At the sight of your desperation, Zhongli has to mask the way the corners of his lips twitch up, eyes predatory, draconic instinct seeping through a human facade. With the flick of a hand, a thick roll of paper pops into existence in front of your head. The very end of it unfurls, revealing what looks like a place where a signature is written.

For a contract.

Sign it, Zhongli says, and he will grant you multiple privileges listed in the contract: he'll allow you to leave his Adeptal Domain when possible, write to your family and friends, leave you alone for a set time if you so desire, and more listed in the contract.

Your hand itches for the crystalline, amber pen floating next to the contract, beckoning you to write your name, but you control the urge. You've already been played for a fool by a foe you once called a friend, and you won't fall for his foul ploys any longer.

So, you pull the contract to unfurl it. The paper flows like water, gushing across the floor like a wild stream down the bed to the floor, across the bedroom, through the door, into the kitchen, continuing on, and on, and on. It seems like days go by until finally, the contract is fully unscrolled.

Zhongli is less than pleased at your wariness, a disappointed sigh echoing through the still room. He had hoped you would be less uncooperative, but he will allow you a day to read the contents of the contract. After all, time is of the utmost importance, even for the immortal.

You glare at the god, but know that you cannot allow anger to cloud your mind. With only a day to read such a dense document, there's no time to spare.

When you look down to start reading the contract itself, though, your eyes widen in confusion.

The words on the paper are almost kaleidoscopic, warping and twisting and forming new phrases every second. One moment, you think you can read "the"; the next, those same letters have become "remain". Looking back up, Zhongli has a pitying smile on his face. "Dearest treasure, do you see now that this game is a fruitless endeavor?" He asks, a hand reaching to brush against your jaw, sliding tenderly across your skin. "I would not lie to you about these things. I have never lied to you," he says.

For a moment, you almost mistake his tone as kind, like you almost mistook everything about Zhongli—a polite, cultured gentleman who turned out to be a possessive, obsessed dragon—until you realize how patronizing his words are. You want to curse him to the Abyss and back, but hold back your hatred. "I'd prefer to read the contract." You look back down, and begin attempting to decipher the undulating paragraphs.

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress. Through it all, Zhongli has stayed by your side, whispering cloying words in an attempt at disarming your defenses. You've managed to stay strong in the face of his unending patience though.

But while you're smart, Zhongli is a god, with thousands of years of knowledge ingrained in his mind. And he knows eventually, one argument will break you down. So, he keeps trying.

"Time is running out, my sweet. But before this offer disappears, I will give you one last chance to sign," he says. "Besides, even if I am being dishonest about the contents of the contract, can things really get worse than this? At least by signing the contract, there's a chance your circumstances may improve."

His logic is sound, drowning out the dissonant thoughts scrambling your mind. You hate the idea of agreeing with Zhongli, but at this point, it's hard to see a reason not to sign it.

With trembling fingers, you pick up the pen. It's slightly warm in your hand, the way a rock in the afternoon sun would be. Smiling like he knew this would happen all along, Zhongli makes a motion with one hand, causing the contract to begin rolling up. After waiting several moments, all that's left unrolled is the space where you will sign your name.

The pen slashes against the paper, marring it with an ink-black scar that reads your name.

Then you feel it. The lightness in your chest, as though you're untethered to the world around you. Thoughts in your mind begin to pop like soap bubbles, fear dissipating into pure nothingness. You can hardly hear your spouse chuckling over the absolute blankness blanketing your mind.

Yes, Zhongli would allow you many more freedoms now. After all, you had sold your mind, body, and soul to him. Escape was impossible. You were clay in his hands, and he would mold you into a perfect, obedient lover.

[embers-of-the-oldest-lore]

@photomatt So I've noticed that you and the tumblr moderation team at large seem to view trans women as inherently sexual and in violation of the sites community guidelines by virtue of existing and before you start crawling through my side blogs and find That I do in fact have some content that is not tagged as well as it should be to remain in line with the strictest interpretation of the community guidelines on my sideblog, please know that I understand this and have come to terms with the fact that making this post will result in you taking advantage of this and removing my side blog and likely my primary blog as well.

However before you do this, I want to make sure that you have a full understanding of what you will be removing and in a grander sense what you have destroyed either through negligence or intentional malice by unfairly moderating Trans women on this website and allowing their harassers to thrive.

The girl in this picture was young and scared and trying so hard to be the man that she was supposed to be even though It meant pushing down a part of herself that was more real than anything she had ever actually lived before.

But then she found tumblr and was exposed to experiences like hers and people like her and was able to slowly become herself for the first time in her life. She had a joy and peace on this website that she would never be able to find in her real life.

It took time but eventually that joy and peace and freedom and exposure to so many other scared girls like her gave her the ability to finally admit she didn't have to or want to be the man that her family expected her to be. This is the last picture of her before she finally stopped giving up.

And it didn't happen all at once

There were problems, and stumbling blocks

But she had this site to come back to and find community and joy and she finally had herself

And now she's free and happy and full of so much joy.

She is so full of Love, and happiness, joy, and compassion for herself and the people around her

She lived and thrived and still finds so much joy in this community that saved her life.

I have found love, and kindness, and partners and friends on this hellsite. Most importantly I found a community. One that you would see destroyed. I know you don't actually care about any of this. You don't care about the unfair moderation on this site. You don't care about the trans women that are desperate for community. I don't think this is going to change your mind either. If I exist to you at all, it's only as a nuisance. You're just going to find some excuse to wipe my entire existence on this site that I have called home for twelve years away.

But i'm not really doing this for you.

I'm doing this because I hope that before you have the chance to wipe every trace of my exsistence from this website that some other girl that is just as scared as I was when I joined this community is able to see that there is hope, that things do in fact get better and that we can thrive and find family and a community. Part of me hopes desperately that Tumblr can continue to be a place for scared girls like I was and an even smaller part of me believes that this might find some place in your heart and take hold. But even if it doesn't, we will always find community. We will always find a place where we can become ourselves and find love and happiness and safety with people like us.

And to that scared girl

It gets better

I promise

: Your sister