#i'm just disappointed that something so interesting was so easily missed

[pearlymel]

·˚ ༘ ·If bad, then why does it feel good?˚. ༉‧₊˚ ft. Sylus.

SUM. You happen to share genuine feelings with the supposedly man you hate.

WC. 2.5k

WARNINGS. not mc fem! reader, fluffy smut MDNI, emotional feelings, unprotected sēx, soft needy sēx, enemies to lovers type shit, not proofread.

NOTES. Just sylus. Nothing more.

It always comes down to this.

The constant hatred for him, you want to literally pierce a bullet to his head. Why does he have to smirk everytime you try to throw curses towards him? Why does he have to press those dangerous lips over yours to shut you up?

Why does it feel so good everytime?

Damn him.

Lately, something—someone has been bothering you. A certain hunter from Linkon city who seems to have earn herself some attention from the leader of Onychinus.

You squint your eyes at the memory of their interaction, it was pathetic. He didn't seem to have any hatred for her whatsoever, he even seemed to help her.

Is he really pretending to be the good guy in front of her? Or was it all a facade?

“you're zoning out,” Sylus drawls lazily while tapping a finger on your cheek to bring back your attention to him.

Right, you were trying to kill him, again.

You still had him down against the seat while you were above him, still careful not to perch yourself on his lap. Your index that brushed too closely to the trigger shook even more when his thumb played dangerously close to the trigger, resting right on top of your index finger, and you feel like the air is being taken away from your lungs.

“It seems like this isn't entertaining you anymore,” you shoot him a stare and he raises an eyebrow, “perhaps… miss hunter is being too soft on you.”

You watch at how his eyebrows raise in amusement, he knew he had the upper hand in this situation, and it was clear to him that you did as well.

He noticed your voice change, and how your fingers still trembled against the gun still pointed at his chest. Even in your feigned bravado, you couldn't mask your unease. Too easy.

"My," Sylus' eyes darkened as he looked up at you with the slightest curl of his lips lifting upwards, "Are you.. jealous?”

This is ridiculous, and you feel offended even. “Why the hell would i be jealous of stray cats?” you argue back, and he seems almost pleased by your answer, “atta girl.”

Not being able to handle him anymore, you make the decision to press on the trigger without thinking, that the loud bangcaused you to gasp in fear as you drop the gun from your hand.

So close.

Sylus remained still for a few moments as he glanced to his side at the bullet hole on the seat beside his head.

“You missed.” He stated, like he was disappointed.

“Did you not want me to miss?!”

He smiles, "And spoil the fun? Never." Clearly he was playing with your feelings at this point.

He brought a hand up, his fingers tangling into the messy strands of your hair, pulling firmly enough to tilt your head to the side. His eyes studied your own, his gaze roaming over every part of your expression, trying to figure out what you would do next.

"You should try again." He said lowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Maybe you'll hit me this time.”

You press your lips into a thin line at the proximity between you, and your hands find his shoulders, “you can't die.. yet.”

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetie. I'm not gonna die so easily." He let out a dry laugh as if it was obvious.

"That is, unless you end up killing me.”

The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, the worry, the concern, the frustration, the anger. It's all so interesting.

His hand left your hair to snake around your waist to finally pull you down on his lap, and that's when he felt your hands come to hold his face so dearly, your eyelashes fluttering between his eyes and lips.

You held him close to you as if he was the only thing that mattered—and he was, really.

You embraced him like you were lovers, like you were holding someone dear in your arms. With your arms looped around his shoulders, to pour all your love into his lips, you always did that whenever you kisses. Always soft, sweet, and slow.

Yet Sylus wanted to return the kiss deeply, his tongue trying to seek yours in a desperate, hungry manner. Like he's never kissed you before.

You part your lips for his tongue to delve further in, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he were trying to memorize the taste, the one he's already used to, but it only seems to be sweeter with each exchanged kiss.

He let out a low moan, feeling completely consumed by you. His hands continued to roam your body, exploring every contour and curve, every dip and valley, as if he was trying to commit you to memory.

You pant softly when his lips leave yours to graze the skin of your jawline and neck, but you tug ay his hair before he could do anything.

“no marks.”

“and why?”

“I can't walk around looking like that—”

Then it hits you, what the hell were you even doing?

You push yourself off him, stumbling slightly back when you stood up abruptly, but you don't reach for the hand that's out for you to balance on.

“This is messed up.” You say your thoughts out loud before you could stop yourself, and your fists clench to your sides.

He leaned forward to follow after you, leaving the warmth of the seat behind him, he then speaks with a tilt of his head, "I'd say what we've been doing is pretty normal for our relationship, wouldn't you?"

You sigh, “normal? What even are we?”

Ah, that question.

"Oh, you know. We’re just enemies with a mutual hatred for each other, who just happen to kiss each other on the regular. Nothing out of the ordinary here, sweetie." His tone dripped with sarcasm, “totally nothing odd here.” you try matching his sarcasm with a glare.

He met your glare with his own gaze, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"Why are you acting like doing this," he gestured between the two of you, "is something completely new? Has it ever occurred to you that doing this may actually feel good?" He paused for a moment, watching your expression twist into confusion, “you say you hate me, but let me ask you this: what do you feel when you're around me? Hate, or something else entirely?”

"I—” you press your lips shut when you realise you don't even know the answer to that. How did he feel about this?

"it feels like a drug yet I can't let go off." You settle with your answer quietly.

He takes a slow step forward, “you make it sound like an addiction, sweetie.”

“it is an addiction.” you confirm bluntly, and his smirk widens further.

“Mm, a drug you can't let go of.”

“A drug i need to let go of.”

He stops at his tracks, "You,” Sylus stares down at you, “think you can just let go of me that easily?" He asked, before moving closer, his body practically looming over yours now, trapping you against the wall. His hand came up to rest on the wall beside your head, his arm caging you in.

You're trapped, with nowhere to go, “i made a mistake, I'll leave—”

“No.” he captured your wrist in a tight grip when you tried making your way out.

Sylus’ grip on your wrist loosened when you winced the first time he grabbed it, his hand shifting down instead to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"You really think I'd just let you walk out that door and never see you again? You must be joking," he scoffs, his tone taking a lower route, and you're surprised.

"You're... you're mine, damnit.”

You blink twice, “since.. when?”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his patience and self-control slowly fading. "Since our first shared kiss," he practically growls out, "you may be a difficult, infuriating, little brat, but goddamnit if you're not mine.”

Sylus can see the range of emotions flickering across your face as you digest his words, those same expressions he always sees, this time, it's all anger and frustration.

"You look like you're about to explode, darling," he says, his voice coming out in a mocking drawl. "Want to shout at me? Let it out. Tell me how much you hate me again, because we both know that's bullshit.”

“it's no—”

“don't even try to lie to me,”

“i hate y—”

“lying, again.”

“Sylus.” You let out sharply, you were getting tired or him cutting you off.

He listens, it doesn't feel too shocking now. You're just.. overwhelmed.

Do you feel like crying? Yes. Do you want to really cry in front of him? No, of course not. But the tears threatening around your eyes is too hard to wipe off now.

And Sylus tenses when he realized the gravity of the situation, he doesn't waste time to lift your chin up. And the sight makes his heart ache abnormally.

“don't,” he whispers softly before taking you in a warm embrace, where your face us pressed against his chest.

You exhale, the hug is genuine, it feels like he's hugging your heart. You wrap you arms back around him, no wonder you always feel your little heart beating around him.

"we're both stubborn, hot-headed, and too proud to back down," He whispers against your hair, “But beloved, i… am sorry if i failed to see your genuine feelings.”

You tighten your arms around him, beloved, you like the sound of that.

You tip your head back up, and you can notice the way his eyes seem to soften… like that one snowy time.

And you lean to peck his lips, it makes him smile before he returns the kiss with a gentle press of his lips onto yours.

…

You mentally agreed with yourself that you would stop at kissing. Only a few kisses here and there… It felt too easy and natural to listen to his whispers

Your eyes rolled back almost every time he nudged against your sweet spot, making your jaw slack, and you don't let go off the hem of his blouse for not even a second with how of a tight hold you had on the fabric.

You would both get like this everytime your emotions were heightened. You crave this, it's a need at this point.

But this time it's different, it doesn't feel like two beasts ravishing eachother, this feels… slow, and romantic.

You both were not even fully undressed.

"Sylus," you whispered breathlessly, followed by a soft whine with how full you felt with the inches buried deep inside you.

spreading your legs even wider, Sylus pushed himself deeper until you took all of him. His hands caressing your trembling thighs, "Feel me, what you do to me." His hips snapped forward in a slow rhythm, grinding against your sensitive clit with each thrust.

Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked you over, oh how tortuous it felt with you clenching around him, your slick walls fluttering and massaging his aching cock. The wet sounds of your skins filled the room, obscene and erotic.

Sylus reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one making you break so beautifully.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate moans. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his hips continued their slow rhythm—threatening to just thrust in fast and hard.

Yet he knew better than to ruin the moment.

Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. "Do you want to cum?" he murmured huskily, his words vibrating against your skin. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." His fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub but your hand tries to pry his fingers away, you didn't want this to end just yet.

“Please no, i-i want to feel more of you.. harder.” a plea, and he swears you're going to be the death of him.

"Greedy princess, aren't you? Wanting more of me even when you're already stuffed full." He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him buried inside you, stretching you deliciously.

His hands now gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he started to move faster, harder. Just like you wanted, he was only following along.

"I'll give you more, sweetie. I'll fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll feel me for days," Sylus promised with a chuckle, and you arch your back while pulling at the fabric of his blouse, "gonna ruin this pussy until it's molded perfectly to my cock."

True to his word, he picked up the pace, pounding into you relentlessly. And you wanted to scream.

“h-hah, right there—” your head rolled back and your lips stayed parted, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely feel your legs.

Sylus could feel his own release fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself back. He wanted to make you come first, wanted to feel your slick walls spasming around him.

"That's it, sweetie" he panted, “Mmh—ah—!” and you cry out when you came, it felt different, you feel wetter than before, you just squirted without even realising from how fucked out your head was.

Sylus groaned as he felt you gushing all over his crotch, your body quivering and quaking in the throes of your intense orgasm. "Fuuuck, that's it my love, let it all out," he rasped, continuing to thrust into your fluttering heat as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

As your climax subsided, leaving you boneless and panting, Sylus slowed his thrusts but didn't stop. He rolled his hips in deep, languid strokes, savoring the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length.

Sylus drank in your needy whimpers and moans with messy kisses this time, “I love you," he babbled, and you barely comprehend what he had just said.

And with a final thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside you. He groaned long and low, his hips twitching with each spurt of his release into you.

You both gaze into eachother's eyes after calming down, your eyes trying to search for the love in them.

“what are you starting at?” You mumble first, breaking the silence. He caresses your cheek at first, “etching your face in my head.” His answer was simple, yet it meant too much to you.

“Did you mean it?” You can't help but ask, “when you said you.. love me?”

Sylus’ lips spread before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you.” He whispered his declaration of love to you quietly for the second time.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 28 Murderdock

When she was still a child, Y/N's parents gently scared her with stories of the Bogeyman, who would come and eat her if she was not good.

They talked about it when she behaved like a spoiled child, throwing a tantrum, but also on important evenings that excited her too much, like the start of school holidays, New Year's, or Halloween. It didn't really work.

Y/N didn't believe in these stories, which she found fascinating and funny, laughing while hiding under the sheets, which annoyed her parents a little, even if they found her adorable.

As she grew up, her carefree attitude never completely disappeared. Of course, she wasn't stupid, she was cautious when needed and didn't trust just anyone, but there were many things that didn't scare her, while others trembled.

Like Matthew Murdock for example.

When she was hired by his firm as an assistant, there was a rather strange atmosphere in the offices. On the one hand, some employees looked like soulless robots, who only thought about their cases or money. And on the other, there were those who seemed scared to death.

"And you ? What does he have against you ?" an accountant had asked her timidly during her lunch break.

"Against me ? I don't understand."

"Oh. You're… You're like them then. You seemed so nice."

"What ?"

"Listen, I'm sorry. Don't tell Murdock anything, I don't want any trouble, please. I have children."

Y/N still hadn't really understood what had happened that day, except for the fact that a lot of people were really afraid of Matthew Murdock.

Yet she had seen him and he wasn't that impressive. Of average height, blind, calm, the lawyer didn't seem capable of doing much harm. Physically anyway. Due to his work, he was probably very intelligent, he had contacts and must have information, but that didn't mean he was an evil genius who was going to use it to make others suffer.

The few times she saw him, he seemed normal, polite. Y/N always greeted him by asking him if he was having a good day or if he wanted a coffee. Even if he seemed a bit surprised, he smiled at her and thanked her. Sometimes, he asked her in return how she was.

"It's refreshing." he sighed once, as she handed him the tea he had asked her.

"Tea ? Yes, I like it a lot, it feels good."

"Haha. Sweet. No, I meant you. It's rare that someone is so relaxed with me. I can easily imagine why, but I appreciate it anyway."

Again, she didn't really understand what he meant. But she liked their short chats. He often told her that she was doing a good job, and he was the only relaxed person in the entire building.

Then, after listening to the rumors, reading some reports, attending complicated trials, Y/N began to think that maybe there was something wrong with Matthew Murdock. If everyone was afraid, there had to be a good reason.

He seemed disappointed the first time she passed by him without speaking to him. However, she had done her best to be discreet, so that he wouldn't know she was there.

"Hello dear Y/N." he said with a smile, making her jump, as he entered the elevator.

"Oh. Hello Mr. Murdock."

"It's been a few days since I've had the pleasure of speaking to you, I've missed you."

"I'm sorry." she stammered, leaning against the wall, as far away from him as possible. "I've had a lot of work, I…"

"No, don't do that. You started so well. There's no reason for you to be nervous, even now that you've figured out some essential things. You're doing well, I don't have any incriminating information against me, we can be friends."

"I… Friends, Mr. Murdock ?"

"Call me Matt." he purred, moving closer until she found herself stuck. "I've never really had any friends. Foggy only counts for half, we have common professional interests. And he doesn't really have the choice at this point. Let's go to dinner tonight."

Y/N wondered what she had done to deserve to fall prey to what looked a lot like a bogeyman. A bogeyman as scary as he was visibly lonely, and maybe if she were a good friend, he wouldn't eat her.

[forthefictionallesbians]

It was a wonder how quickly your world had changed once the Affini had taken over. In a matter of months they had ripped out everything from agriculture to healthcare and replaced it with their own alternative versions. Fabricators could produce food and ingredients without the need for labor, and most of the planet had been allowed to return to nature. The roads, long decrepit, had been turned into vibrant walkways flanked by shops and restaurants. Public transit proliferated, scarcity had been eliminated, and you had never seen your home city this vibrant.

But even living in a utopia didn't prevent executive dysfunction from taking its toll. Nothing so bad that the periodic wellness checks had reason to put you into a wardship, but there were days where memory and moving could be hard. And wouldn't you know it, your medications had just run out.

"Sorry, cutie, but I need permission from your vet before I can print you any more of that!" the ai unit in your apartment's fabricator chirped with wearying cheeriness. Just your luck.

"Well, can you just call them? Ask for a refill?"

"Your vet actually left you a message last night! You're now one day overdue for your checkup, so she can't refill your prescriptions until you come and see her. Or, if you like, she can send a staff member to do a home checkup, if you like?"

"No," you sigh. "Tell Phiela that I'll be over later today." However cushy things were now, allowing an affini into your home outside of the wellness checks was still a line further than you were willing to go. It was nice to have an area just to yourself, away from their condescension and flirtation. Not that you didn't enjoy it, at least a little. There was still just a definite wariness around how easily domestication could occur that you didn't want to deal with all the time.

You drift through get-ready chores for the next hour, grabbing keys, changing to outdoor clothes, misplacing your keys, putting on shoes, grabbing water, putting on your other shoe, eating a snack, and sitting down to watch something before the chirping of your fabricator cut through the haze. "Cutie? Cutie? Oh, there you are. Phiela is wondering when you are planning on leaving!"

"Tell her I am on my way!" you say, slightly annoyed to have your viewing cut off. Standing, you walk to the door and close it behind you, hearing its automatic lock engage as you head towards the clinic.

You really don't feel like walking. Not all that way. Even if it is just over 10 minutes away, that feels insurmountably long right now. Public transit? Always an option, but it'll probably be slower than walking. And you just want to get it over with as soon as possible, and head home to watch Terran Run 5. Time to bite a bullet, and weaponize the one natural advantage you have in this world. Cuteness.

The walkway is busy, so it's not hard to pick out a nearby affini sophont-watching. Her blue-green leaves are positively rustling with excitement as she coos over every passing floret, handing out sweets to every taker, domestics and independents alike. She isn't one you've noticed around before, so it seems like there is little risk of repeat interaction and the loss of liberty that too often follows. Steeling yourself and putting on your most helpless face, you wander through the crowd and up to her.

"Hello, miss? Could you take me to the vet? I have a check-in but.... don't want to walk," you finish lamely. Fortunately, the weakness of your plea doesn't seem to matter.

"Oh my goodness, aren't you just the sweetest little thing!" she squeals, immediately enveloping you in a viney embrace. "Of course I'll take you, little sprout! But first, what's your name?"

"Uhhh," you freeze, not having expected quite the level of enthusiasm. A mistake on your part, for certain. "I'm [name], [pro/nouns]."

When the two of you finally arrive, she puts you down gently in front of the door. You try to stifle your disappointment. Even if you have no interest in becoming a floret, it is impossible to refute that being close to the affini is a pleasant experience. Between the soothing beat of her core and the gentle firmness of her encompassing vines, Barancala gave a great ride.

"Nice to meet you, [diminutive nickname]. Can I call you that? Oh I just can't help myself, you're just too adorable." Countless vines pull you even further into her arms as she stands up, cradling you like a baby. Others trail through your hair, tease your limbs, weave between your fingers. It's the not-so-unpleasant cost to this method of travel. "I'm Barancala Whist, she/her. Now which way to your clinic, [diminutive nickname]?"

You point the direction and let yourself relax as she strides vetward on her massive legs. A casual stroll for her, faster than even jogging the entire way would be for you. And all it took was allowing yourself to get cuddled for a few minutes, pleasantly zoning out as you absently listen to her ramblings. This was one more perk of affini occupation, even if it had to be used sparingly to avoid getting domesticated.

"Thank you so much for the lift, Miss Barancala!" you grin up at her. Which immediately strikes you as far too peppy. It was important to be polite, but every independent knew to avoid being too sweet. Not that it matters much, you suppose. If she really is itinerant, it's unlikely you'll ever see her again. Which is a little bit of a shame.

"Of course, little sprout!" She ruffles your hair one last time, glowing down at you, and you leave for your appointment.

[cruyuu]

265 is an insane chapter. i can't move on from it. yuji and sukuna being twins, fishing, shooting arrows... yuji's sad eyes after sukuna's "i feel nothing"... like am i insane for thinking that yuji really wanted to get sukuna to open up there??? there's no other explanation for that chapter otherwise. god these two 😭😭

Sorry for a late answer anon!

I already ranted a bit about that chapter and tried to make sense of it. You are right, anon. There is absolutely no need for Yuuji to go that far for someone like Sukuna and then say... "I loathe you." as an explanation because it makes zero sense. He could've ripped him away from Megumi like 20 times already, and he claims he can kill him, but (just like Sukuna), I guess he has to hate on him (in a very fond way) first at least because priorities lol.

Because spending time together and trying to change that person's mind, talking with him constantly as if just wishing he would join in and say something about himself is the definition of loathing an individual, right? Silly me for thinking that was interest. For thinking that was care. For thinking that Yuuji wants to hear his thoughts and see how he thinks. Wants to try and understand him. Learn more about him. Otherwise, exactly like you asked, why? What's the point? There's no purpose to 265 and it could've easily been replaced by 266 wholly. He could've said all of that to a particular individual who needs it (and who Yuuji misses), and funnily enough, it would fit the shoe more so than it would with Sukuna. Why does Yuuji still care about the person who ruined his life enough to perform his very first Domain Expansion and spend nearly an entire day with him, hanging out? Really weird.

Like 266 just confirmed that. The sheer contrast between the chapters is just insane. I have a post about that which is half-written because I can't even put everything into words properly but I'll try my best to finish it when I'm not that busy to show you exactly what I mean.

Also the fact that Sukuna looks exactly like Yuuji, not in his true form but dressed like him, totally like his twin. That Yuuji is taking him everywhere, commenting on everything, from food, down to animals, seemingly as if to try and find a way to engage him in conversation yet Sukuna keeps his mouth shut. He even chooses to shoot arrows with him, something which is more Sukuna's thing than Yuuji's, just to get him to show anything at all. Yuuji's an open book here, and he tells him even that he considers these little things important (his speech about roles and life), but Sukuna brushes him off.

And Yuuji looks sad? Disappointed? because Sukuna remains closed off. His behavior towards Yuuji is unexplainable, and even his hatred is... just that. Nothing. Even if Sukuna keeps contradicting himself at every turn when it comes to Yuuji, treating everyone the same but not him, there's still no explanation about why he does that.

And this is why Yuuji talked about meaning in life. He was practically explaining his newfound viewpoint to Sukuna, because he was expecting an answer regarding his hate. Something like "Okay but there must be a reason for your uncontrollable hatred when it comes to me. Can you tell me what it is?" because to Yuuji, everything means something. It's not just that– some pointless, meaningless thing.

Sukuna's response is "I understand, but I do not care." yet he got pissed off when he recognized Yuuji's crestfallen expression as pity. Like why is he even mad about that? I thought he only lived for himself and didn't care about anything. I thought he felt nothing. I thought he didn't live to understand others, yet he cannot understand Yuuji and his expression makes him mad.

265 seems to expose Sukuna as a feeler in denial, who clearly has a problem with Yuuji's way of looking at him, but also generally has a problem with understanding Yuuji (still). Even though these two understand other people, with similar viewpoints, they're stuck when it comes to each other. Sukuna loathes weak people and yet he compliments everyone who is weaker than him. He calls them strong. Everyone except Yuuji.

One of my friends thinks Sukuna's anger towards Yuuji is because Yuuji cannot seem to hate Sukuna like he hated Mahito, which is a very interesting observation, ngl. It feels like no matter what Sukuna does, Yuuji will still find a way of pardoning it, while with Mahito he never did such a thing. He showed pure coldness. The scene of Mahito losing showcases Yuuji appearing cold-blooded, further exemplified by the prey/predator imagery and winter. Truly no notion of kindness. With Sukuna, that doesn't seem to be the case considering... well.. the entirety of 265. Sukuna had even done worse than Mahito and continually promises to Yuuji to do worse, only to ignite hate, but is spared of real, genuine, absolute hatred. He still gets a chance. He still gets, "Come back to me." He gets "pitied".

And that's the very thing I tried hard to figure out– the whole "pity" thing– because Yuuji doesn't appear to be pitying Sukuna. It's something else. It's something way more closer and kinder than that. It may appear cold and like "pity" to Sukuna, while to us, it is presented differently. This is because paneling is extremely important!

When Yuuji states "if this is what all that anger had amounted to" we, the readers, see him be sad, but Sukuna doesn't see that expression. He's looking ahead and is just listening to him. By his voice alone, he comes to a conclusion and asks if Yuuji is pitying him and when he turns to look at him, Yuuji's face is shrouded in darkness until the panel where we are met with the coldest way of pitying someone known to mankind, where Yuuji confirms his thoughts, yet still offers him a chance to still be spared.

That is Sukuna's explanation regarding what Yuuji feels, not what Yuuji truly feels and it doesn't entirely make sense because to pity someone is to feel sadness or sympathy for someone's unhappiness or bad situation. How can it be pity when Yuuji doesn't even know his situation? When Sukuna isn't unhappy nor in a bad situation? Plus he doesn't even know anything about him? If anything it feels like Yuuji is mourning the fact he has to kill him (that that is his "bad situation" in this case) and cannot reach him, that they cannot co-exist and that yes, this is what he's feeling sad about.

You could, also, argue differently. That it is precisely that– because he has no explanation for anything and keeps him in the dark about himself, and continually just keeps pushing him away. That he cannot care for him. Hell, even Yuuji's mindset which clashes heavily with Sukuna's is enough of a reason why.

We (the readers) see Yuuji be sad while Sukuna doesn't and Yuuji confirms his thoughts instead of offering a more fitting explanation because what is the point? Sukuna had already stated "He doesn't feel anything" so he won't get nor understand what Yuuji feels.

The pure misunderstanding is in focus between these two in that chapter. The whole "pity" which is, in fact, not that, because otherwise Yuuji wouldn't be offering Sukuna to come back to him, but would instead just try to kill him, not just keep giving him chances and allowing him to live and cause more mayhem than he already did.

But still, the whole insanity of this chapter comes from Yuuji's behavior towards Sukuna. Like why think of changing perspectives, of spending time trying to understand and offering that very same person (who had taken the very person you claim to care about) life and yet, when it comes to that other person, you're saying "it's okay if you choose to die even though I would be lonely without you"? It's so fucking absurd. You want someone you hate to live more so than you want someone you care about to? You're telling your entire life story to a person who never gave a shit about you to... change his perspective on life? Yet you're doing nothing to change the mind of someone who you'll be lonely without? Insanity.

So yeah, anon. You can see how crazy it all is when you really think about it. I would really love it if we can finally see these two being honest with each other because that seems to be this big, big issue here, where everyone is talking for them (even the story), instead of you know, them.

[arcane-ish]

I miss miss my Zaundads, but let's talk about moms for a bit

Vander and Silco were my jam in season 1 of Arcane.

Let's talk about their presence or lack thereof in season 2 so far and what might be coming instead.

They didn't have much of a presence in season 2 so far. I kind of expected we would have gotten more Jinx hearing Silco's voice in her head and that it would have been more of a story about what are her wishes versus what are his wishes and I expected that ther would be more creeping buildup to the Warwick stuff in the background.

They didn't end up going for that and I don't really have a problem with it.

I think in a way season 1 benefitted a lot from that traditional paternal power structure presence (and how it falls apart) and I think it's actually kind of brave to move away on that and build something without it. (note that even Singed who had a dark father presence in his own way, both as a mentor to Viktor and the one who creates Jinx with Shimmer was barely present in season 2 so far even though we expect him to do at least one more act of fathering).

And in a way it's forward thinking because of course their main characters, Jinx, Vi and Caitlyn are female so so they are going to step into the position of power role, they are going to female mentors or pseudo mothers.

(sidenote: as much as I think it would have been a cool and tragic and interesting story to see Jinx torn between what are her own wishes and what are Silco's wishes, I think it's also pretty neat that they went for not that and instead it's just Jinx having to figure out what she wants and what she is)

So.... mothers!

The main mother presences were of course Ambessa and Cassandra. And we have Jinx being forced in the Silco role with the young girl.

Ambessa of course is the overwhelmed mother, who already lost a child, invades the home of her other child and has to juggle pressure from the outside.

I got to say I feel really, really, really cheated that we didn't get to see a longer "seduction" scene where we see Ambessa manipulating the chembaron into attacking by inciting her rage over her dead son by Ambessa relating to how she lost her son.

She also steps into being a dark mentor to Caitlyn.

With Caitlyn the presence of Cassandra looms large and one of the most intriguing things was the little hint that Vi dropped that she knows that it feels like to step into her mother's role.

In theory she could have been referring to Vander and we could get something like in season 1 when she hallucinated him during the Sevika fight. But I'm optimistic that maybe we will get a flashback to Jinx and Vi's mom and how Vi was still sort of also in a mothering position with Powder (does that mean that Vi has failed her "child"?)

I do wanna say, if Jinx is going to mostly echo what Silco did with her, I don't necessarily consider that "motherly" just because Jinx is female. So Jinx could just as easily be "dadding" Isha. Or maybe she will remember her own mother or Vi and create her own blended version.

The only of the season 1 "dads" who still had decent amounts of screentime in season 2 so far is Heimer and I think its noteworthy that despite there being the "this is my former student, this is my current student" to me he doesn't feel very dad-like to me anymore.

In season 1 Heimer was a traditional dad/male mentor figure. He has students, he encourages them, he scolds them, he is disappointed that his influence on the world was negative, he is hurt when his "son" throws him out.

In season 2, it feels like he has accepted a new position in life. In season 1 his "dadness" was based on his knowledge and in season 2 it feels like he sees himself as having no clue and now having a lot of kid like enthusiasm. In way he put himself more in the student role because he realized he had no idea what was going on.

Of course it's possible that Warwick and Singed's roles will ramp up over the season and we will have more mixed approaches to "parenting" in general rather than primarily "mothers & daughters". (ie that Ambessa versus Warwick could be "the mom" versus "the dad")

(don't let me dream of Ekko co-parenting Isha or parenting his tree followers)

Of course there's a chance that Viktor will join the "dad club" in that he dads his followers, in the sense he creates something and feels responsible for what they do, just like Jinx will presumably have to deal with the responsibility of people following her.

[thelovelylolly]

Joel Miller/Tommy Miller x Reader where she finds an old Sphynx (hairless ugly thing lol, but so affectionate) cat and carries him in her hoodie to keep him warm. Joel wonders why she's being shifty/what she's hiding. And isn't impressed when she finally shows him.

-

This is super random but I would miss my adopted Sphynx sooo much if I was thrown into the last of us universe 🙈😭 he's too domesticated to live as a stray lol he wears clothes (even legwarmers 🤣) and sleeps in my bed or inside my hoodie all day 🤣

Hope you're well x

Can We Keep Him?

Summary: You find a Sphynx cat while traveling with Joel, who doesn't want it. Warnings: post-outbreak, not proofread bc my own cats kept me up last night and im tired, let me know if i missed anything! Notes: i. love. cats. thats it thats the note

You and Joel stumbled upon an abandoned gas station and strip mall while making your way to your next trading spot. You two decided to split up and raid the abandoned buildings so you wouldn't waste too much time. You went into the gas station while Joel looked through the other buildings. It was already pretty picked over, but every once in a while, you would find something useful or just interesting.

You were walking through the dirty isles when you heard a crunch from the back. You immediately turned around, but saw nothing. You grabbed your flashlight and pistol, readying them as you two slow steps towards the sound. Another crunch and a rustle come from the back. You got closer and closer, pausing for a moment before turning the corner to prepare yourself. You didn't want to deal with infected.

You quickly turned the corner and aimed your flashlight at the noise. Two blue eyes stared back at you as you lowered your gun and flashlight. A Sphynx cat was just munching on some random food that was left, and probably expired.

"Aw, hey little guy," you cooed, putting your pistol in your waistband and crouching down in front of the cat. You carefully stuck your hand out to him, letting him sniff at your hand before rubbing his head against your hand. You gave him some scratches on his wrinkly little head as he walked closer to you.

"Will you let me take you?" You asked him when he put his front paws on his knees. He meowed at you and you picked him up, standing up with him in your arms.

You carefully opened your hoodie up and he instantly hopped in, happy for the warmth. You giggled and he stuck his head out, licking your chin.

"You gotta hide, buddy. I don't know if Joel will like you," you said, gently pushed his head back down. You made sure he was comfortable, then left the gas station to regroup with Joel.

----

Joel knew something was off with you. As you two continued on your way, your arms stayed wrapped around your torso and you didn't take your hoodie off, no matter how hot you were getting. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. So, he stopped walking and turned to face you.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked away from Joel. "Nothing, why?"

"You're acting weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Joel, I'm not, okay?"

He stepped closer, his hands going to his hips. "You really wanna do this?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You opened your hoodie up and carefully took the Sphynx cat you found out, cradling him in your arms. Joel was, at first, shocked you were able to hide the little guy so easily, then disappointed. Of course you picked up a stray cat, a hairless, wrinkly one at that.

"Where did you find that?" Joel asked.

"The gas station," you replied. "He was just too cute to leave and he immediately started to love on me, so..."

"Okay, first, he is not that cute. Kinda ugly, to be honest. Second, why on earth did you pick up a stray cat? You don't know what kinda diseases he has."

"I don't care, and he is cute! Can we keep him? Please?"

"No," Joel answered sharply.

"C'mon, Joel. Can you really say no to this face?" You replied, holding the cat out to Joel.

"Yes, I can. He's not a cute cat."

"He is! Plus, where are we gonna leave him that's safe?" You added. "Please, Joel? Just until we find a better place for him?"

Joel took a deep breath and grumbled something as he ran a hand across his face.

"Fine. We can keep him, but when we find a good place to leave him, that's it," he said before turning and continuing on your path.

"Yes!" You cheered quietly as you quickly followed Joel. "Now, what should we call him?"

"Dear lord," Joel grumbled, already regretting letting you keep the cat.

[novashelby]

I'm Not Your Wife, I'm Your Daughter-Part III

Pairing: Nothing romantic as of now...Tommy ShelbyxEvie (OC Daughter)

Warning: mention of various abuse and assault, swearing, trauma. Doesn't follow canon much at all.

Word Count: 1,909

Summary: It hits Evie where Jack found all his information leading her to her least favorite person. Please show support by commenting and rebloging!

“You must be so devastated.” Evie inhaled, holding her breath for a second. She was sure when he had said, take her home, that was the end of their conversation. But to her disappointment, Jack Nelson had a knack for enjoying the way his voice sounded. On the exhale, she rolled her eyes and looked over at him, a clear bored expression. Though, she looked more pathetic than anything; eyes puffy, red, and swollen with tears. Jack Nelson knew what he was doing; upsetting the girl and spilling a whole can of her trauma. He had an eerie way of him, Evie thought. Her father was much more blunt with her emotions at times. But this man? So sickly sweet. Artificial was the word, but fuck, he made it convincing to a girl who’d already been so inclined to feel safe by any man who comforted her.

She side glanced at him, tight expression. But he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, shaking it open. Gently, he cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. He fought through her resistant struggle, wiping away the tears. “You must enjoy researching people, Mr. Nelson.”

“A speciality of all smart men,” he said, tucking away his handkerchief. “Your father, too. He mustn’t have told you about his brain tumor-”

“No,” she said, voice hardly even a whisper. Evelyn shook her head, eyes closed. “No, no he didn’t. But it’ll be okay. Daddy doesn’t die very easily.” Jack’s amused laugh broke her from her thoughts. She kept comments to herself. Disbelief, truly. Out of everything, it couldn’t be a brain tumor. 

“Eleven year old Evie must be so…manic,” he said, and her ears perked. Manic. When she was eleven, she went manic. She remembered it clearly. But why manic. Why say manic? There weren’t many words Evelyn remembered, but she remembered using that word a lot. Writing it on pages for her eyes. She asked God a lot. Wrote to him in a leather bound book tucked under her head. God, why do I feel so manic? This manic…the manic….manic. The driver pulled into the large driveway. 

When the car slowed to a stop, Evelyn looked at him, blinking. “Interesting choice of words, Mr. Nelson.” Her hand gripped the door handle as she made sure her knowing look was imprinted in him. So chatty, but awful at goodbyes he was. His kind facade faded when he no longer had use for it. “Good night. Surely a man like yourself must be so exhausted.” She opened the door, sliding across the leather seats.

“We’ll see each other soon, Miss Shelby-”

“I don’t know, Mr. Nelson,” she sighed. “I’m booked three years out in my calendar.” With that, she slammed the car door and walked up the stone steps, trying to keep her pounding heart contained. She hadn’t an idea of what she felt, but confusion was definitely on the list next to anger. Evelyn couldn’t begin to process any grief or devastation before she beat the pissed off fuel she had towards her father at that moment. Neither he nor Lizzie were home yet, still swimming through their emotions at the hospital. 

Francis greeted her at the door, helping her with her coat. “I’m so sorry, Miss. Shelby-you must be so tired.” 

“Should I quote my father?” she asked, a tinge of humor to lighten the air around her.  She nodded in ‘thanks’ and went straight to her bedroom. There was a target on her mind. 

A satin box of old journals shoved away in her closet. It was the first gift Ada had given her; a brown leather bound journal. Ever since she was eight, she’d write down everything. Even something as small as what she ate, if it was just too good to forget or just so horrible she wanted to remind herself. Still short at twenty-four, she dragged her white vanity stool to the closet edge, and stood on it, the legs shaking. It was then, when the box was shoved just a bit more back than usual, she knew someone had been fishing around. Evelyn could never push it that far back. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” she cursed, grabbing a hanger and dragging it, grunting and groaning. It was definitely lighter, and when she failed to catch it, it tumbled to the ground. The cover came off and inside was a single journal. Evelyn jumped off the stool and picked it up. 

That was when she knew who took them. It made sense. She flipped through the pages of her journal when she was just thirteen, her fingertips burning with regretful memories. Michael. It was Michael who took them…how he had managed a visit with Tommy was incredible. She thought her father must really have a brain tumor if he was slipping that much. She gathered the last journal and tucked it in her handbag before strapping it over her shoulder. It was about four in the morning at that point.

In the little bowl near the door was a set of car keys. They were the cars that Evelyn was allowed to drive; the older ones that were dented and scratched. Specifically the one that she learned how to drive in roughly ten years ago. Francis peeked around the door leading into the dining room. “Are you off again? It is so late-”

“I’m thinking it’s quite early, Francis,” she said, winking, lying that she was off to her friend, Martha's home. “I don’t want to stay home right now, Francis.”

As a woman who was once little with no home, she found it obnoxious how some had more than one. Instead, having three or four. It was so bloody obnoxious. And for that, she hated Gina even more. It wasn’t Michael, it was Gina…. The over zealous bitch from Boston. Evelyn never thought her roots would follow her. Especially not in the form of a tall lady who didn’t know how to properly put on cheek rouge. You don’t know how to put on cheek rouge, she reminded herself. Sure, but I don’t pretend I do. 

How hard is it for everyone to be humble? 

It was quite a drive to London, and if Evelyn was honest, it was intimidating. Never having to drive that far. Most of her journeys were to Martha’s. Just a quick thirty minutes at most. But going to London was a whole day adventure. Hours, not including the fact she missed her exits and turns a couple of dozen times, ending up in some other city where the people clearly hated her. All I need are my journals. That was the driving factor. If she had nothing, she’d have fallen asleep, car sliding off a cliff. Surly. 

When she made it to the row of overly posh town houses, Evelyn wanted to drive back home. She was not her father. It was not her. Evelyn didn’t play tough. Evelyn didn’t confront people. But Michael played dirty in a way that was unforgivable. To steal a young girl’s mind. To invade her, violate her, and to completely expose her. 

After everything else he did. 

She slammed the car door, hearing her father in the back of her head. Fuckin’ ‘ell, Evelyn. 

Evelyn gave a few good knocks with the iron knocker. From the little clicks from the other side, she predicted that Gina would answer the door. But she didn’t expect the woman would be in her silk nightie, covered by a robe. She leaned on the door frame, the tight fake smile. Evelyn did a scan over her, pausing at her heels. “Evie-”

“Evelyn,” she corrected. “You call me Evelyn…where’s Michael?” 

Gina was always so sickly nice. Fake nice. Walked around like the princess of something, something. She tilted her head, amused. “It’s not often he lets you out. Must be a special occasion.” Her robe flowed behind her as she turned. “He’s in here!” she called. “Close the door, click the latch.” Evelyn looked around, thinking how simple their London home was compared to their other home. They almost seemed normal. Through the narrow entryway and to a parlor, Michael was sitting on a pink sofa. 

“Nice decor, Gina,” she complimented. “Did you decide on that, too?” Michael looked over at her, wiping the sleep from his eyes. They’d both still been in their night clothing. “Can I get you something to-”

“I want my shit, Michael.” Michael closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“What shit?” he asked, tiredly. 

Evelyn snorted. “You’re a pathetic liar just as you’re a pathetic gangster-I want my shit. You know what shit. I know it was you, Michael. I want my fuckin’ shit!”

Michael looked up at her, brow cocked. “Evelyn, did Tommy stop your medication again? You know what happens when you stop the..the little…um…the drops or something.” He was referring to the few times Tommy gave Evelyn a secret dose of something to calm her anxiety. Just anxiety. And it’d make her sleepy and calm. But Michael was being so incredibly condescending.

Evelyn did not entertain it. “I’ll rip this fuckin’ house apart, Michael-”

“What the fuck are you talking-”

“My journals, Michael!” She screamed. “My fucking thoughts! My fucking life! You took them and I fuckin’ know it was you. You fucking took them to exploit me…again. Because once wasn’t fucking-”

“Are you done?”

Gina came over, sitting on the arm of the sofa, arm draped around Michael’s shoulders. She was already sipping a whiskey. “What is wrong?” she asked, looking down at him. 

That made Evelyn laugh. “Michael, you took my journals and gave them to her fucking uncle-”

“Stupid-”

“Stop rolling your eyes! I know it was you, because.” She paused, digging into her bag and taking out the one journal that was left behind. “Because of this, Michael, the one journal you wouldn’t want your in-laws to read.” Michael stiffened a bit, leaning on his fist, looking away from her. She tossed it on the couch. “There you go.” She looked at Gina, and said, “halfway is where it gets good…you’ll learn a whole-”

“Evelyn! Shut up,” Michael groaned. “Would you? I was fucking twenty-”

“And I was thirteen.” Evelyn swallowed. “I was thirteen, Michael.”

Gina looked down at her husband, hand on her belly. Michael sighed, “what are you trying to say? I raped you? God, Evie, you just love being a victim. It’s like you crave it. You’re fucking sick and Tommy should have put you in a home years ago-”

“You’re deflecting-”

“Evelyn, I was fucking drunk, it was New Years Eve.” Michael stood, walking to her, looking down. “I kissed you-”

“I was thirteen-”

“It was a fucking kiss that meant nothing-”

“That isn’t your decision to make, Michael. I was thirteen and it made me uncomfortable…you were twenty-”

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

“I want my journals back, Michael,” she said. “Where are they?” When he didn’t answer, she made the ultimatum for him. “Michael, you have twelve hours to get those journals back to me…twelve.”

“And if I don’t?”

Evie walked over, grabbing her journal back and fixing her bag on her shoulder. “Michael, you should have stayed in the countryside. You’re a bloody shite accountant, businessman, and a really fucking pathetic gangster. Use your imagination.” She started to excuse herself out before pausing at the door. “Oh, and Michael.” She turned, pointing to her upper lip. “Shave that fucking pube trail…it looks disgusting.”

[luvriablack]

First date

Pov: U met Patrick in a club and u both decided to go on a date together one day to get to know each other better

Warnings ⚠️: age gap, AGE GAP AGAIN, teasing? manipulation, possessiveness, forced, affair

You were in a club with some friends. It's not usual for you to go on clubs or parties, but since your friends were older than u, you decided to go for once. Your friend asked you to get her a beer, so u headed to the barman . As you were walking, you bumped into someone.

Patrick looks over his shoulder to see who he just bumped into, and his expression changes from one of annoyance to one of surprise as he recognizes the beautiful woman standing before him. He can't help but be taken aback by her beauty, despite his usual dismissive and arrogant disposition towards women.

"I'm terribly sorry," Patrick says as he steps back to create some distance between them.

It was a bit awkward, and I smiled gently. "No, it was my fault, I am sorry," I say and look at him. He had a clean gave, and he was tall and muscular. He was handsome, and he caught me staring.

Patrick smiles back at the lovely woman, feeling a strange sense of connection between the two of them. Their eyes lock for a few seconds, and he experiences a feeling he has never felt before. Something about this woman captivates him, and despite his cold demeanor, it seems he is beginning to develop an interest in her.

"Would you mind if I bought you that drink?" Patrick asks, motioning toward the bar. His eyes remain fixed on hers as he waits for an answer, intrigued by what comes next.

I look at him again. " Um... this is for my friend," I explain to him.

Patrick's brow furrows, clearly disappointed that he won't have a chance to buy the woman a drink. But he's not easily deterred –- maybe if he stays near her, he'll find an opportunity to chat more.

"Well... can I buy you a drink?" Patrick asks, his voice oozing with a confidence and charm the likes of which he's never felt before.

I smile gently. " U don't have to waste money, it's okay. Besides, I don't really drink, " I say

Patrick is now even more intrigued. What kind of beautiful woman doesn't like to drink? And more importantly, what does she mean she doesn't want to waste his money? He can't help but be intrigued, and he presses further.

"That's fine, I don't believe I got your name, miss-" he says, his tone full of confidence and charm.

" Y/N...and you are?" I ask, waiting for his answer . *Patrick smiles, pleased with himself for getting her name.*

"Patrick Bateman. Pleased to meet you."

The two stand in front of each other, neither one wanting to move away, their eyes locked on each other. Patrick begins to notice small details in Y/N's appearance, like the way her hair shines in the moonlight or the way her lips curl up at the corners when she smiles.

We got zoned out until someone pushed me towards him by accident, and I almost fell embarrassing myself . Patrick watches as Y/N is suddenly pushed toward him, and he instinctively grabs her arm, stabilizing her and helping her to stay upright. Their eyes meet, and they share a moment of connection, his grip lingering on her arm just a bit longer than strictly necessary.

I move a bit away from him. " Thank u," I whisper and look back at my friends. " I think I need to keep going through," I say at Patrick

The feeling of connection between Patrick and Y/N is palpable, and even though their meeting was short so far, Patrick feels a strange urge to see more of her. As she turns away to go back to her friends, Patrick suddenly speaks up again.*

"Y/N...wait-" he says, reaching out to stop her.

I stop my movements and turn around to see him.

Patrick feels a rush as she turns to face him. His gaze is intense, and he takes a moment to catch his breath before speaking again.

"Y/N...can I have your number?" he asks. "I'd love to see you again."

I smile and think about it" sure yeah" I say happily and give him my number

Patrick's face lights up at her response. Though they've only just met, he has an undeniable feeling that Y/N could be someone special. As he enters her phone number into his phone, he takes a moment to remember some small detail about her, so he'll have something to say when he reaches out.

I smile at him, and then I wave as I go to my friends . He watches as Y/N rejoins her friends and laughs as she engages in conversation with them. Though he's happy he was able to get her number, there's a lingering feeling of disappointment that their meeting had to be interrupted. As he turns to go back to his own friends, Patrick checks his phone to confirm that the number he entered was indeed valid. He sends a quick text to Y/N to ensure that she has his number as well.

I didn't check my phone as I went to my friends but when I got out of the club I saw the message and smiled " Hey Patrick it's Y/N" I text

Patrick sees the message from Y/N and can't resist smiling. The feeling of potential between the two of them is too strong for him to ignore. As he's about to reply, he feels a tap on his shoulder and looks up to see his friends waiting for him.*l

"Come on Patrick! Let's go!" his friend says.

"Just a minute!" Patrick replies, taking a moment away from his friends to see if Y/N will respond.

" Patrick , how old are you?" I text

Patrick is surprised at the directness of Y/N's questions but responds quickly.

"I'm 27, how about you?" he texts back. He feels a surge of excitement as he waits for another response from her.

" oh...I am a bit young" I reply

Patrick's smile fades as he reads her response, suddenly feeling anxious about his age and how it will affect his chances with Y/N . He texts back quickly.

"That's okay, how old are you?" he asks.

" I am 18" I reply a bit anxious

Patrick's stomach sinks as he reads the reply, realizing that their initial attraction to each other will probably not work out. As he's about to respond to Y/N, one of his friends calls out to him again.

"C'mon, we're leaving! Let's go!" his friend calls.

"Ok, ok." Patrick replies, turning back to his friends. The feeling of disappointment is still present, but he tries to push it away and return to the conversation with his friends.

Timeskip

The next morning, when Y/N wakes up and checks her phone, she sees a message from Patrick waiting for her. He must not have realized how young she is, or maybe he's willing to make an exception. Either way, she opens his message with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

"Good morning," Patrick writes, "Did you have a good time last night?"

Y/N's heart jumps to her throat as she reads Patrick's response. While it's not exactly what she hoped for, she feels happy to receive a message from him and quickly texts him back.

" hi, good morning " I text back" yeah it was good, how about u?"

Patrick's face lights up when he sees the message from Y/N. He's relieved to know that she responded and is responding cheerfully. He considers his answer for a moment before sending a text back.

"I had a great time too" he writes, "Sorry we didn't get to talk for very long though. I had to leave kind of abruptly."

" oh its okay, I thought u changed your mind and didn't want to talk," I texted back

Patrick feels a pang of guilt at hearing that she thought he didn't want to talk to her, and he quickly typed back.

"No way, how could I not want to talk to someone as beautiful as you?" he writes. "I hope I wasn't too forward last night, it's just that I really enjoyed being near you."

" great! Wanna go out sometime?" I ask

Patrick's heart races as he reads the message from Y/N. He couldn't have dreamt up a better answer. He quickly texts back, with a few typos from his excitement.

"Of course" he writes, "I'd love to take you out! How about this Saturday?"

He presses send and hopes he gets the response he's looking for.

" yeah sure" I reply "Um where should we visit?"

Patrick is thrilled that the date is set, and he immediately begins trying to come up with a place for their first date. He takes a minute to think, trying to pick a place that will impress her and show off his taste and style.*

"Well, let's see..." he replies. "I know this great Italian restaurant downtown. I can make reservations there for Saturday night."

" Yeah, great, what will u wear?" I ask a bit hesitant

Patrick smiles at her, asking what he should wear, and he texts back with confidence, remembering that first impressions are important.

"I'll be wearing a nice suit, and I don't think you can go wrong with a dress or something similar." He adds a wink emoji as a playful reminder to her that it's a date. "I'll pick you up at 7pm sharp. Don't keep me waiting."

" Do u know where I live?" I ask

Patrick's confident demeanor fades slightly for a moment as he tries to come up with an answer. He texts back, his tone shifting to be a bit more casual.*

"Not yet, but I know you're not too far from me. We could take a taxi to the restaurant if you're ok with it?"

" Okay, so we will meet at the local park of the town and then take a taxi,"i text

Patrick feels slightly annoyed at having to meet at the local park but quickly shifts his focus back on the task at hand. He's going to see a beautiful woman that evening, and it couldn't be more exciting. As he texts back, his tone is once again confident and charming.*

"That sounds perfect. I'll be waiting for you at the park at 6:45pm. Until then, I'll think about how you look in that dress of yours."

He hits send and then quickly adds two more messages.

"Sorry, that was cheesy!" he texts. "I'm excited to see you"

" It's okay, I will see you on Saturday then! Byee :)" I sent a happy emoji

Patrick is pleased with the way the conversation went, and his anticipation of the date is sky-high. As he texts back, his tone changes from charming to flirty.

"Looking forward to it ;)" he writes, adding a wink emoji. "Until then, try to find a dress that will catch your attention as much as I'll be catching yours."

Timeskip

to the local park

Patrick is dressed to the nines for the date. He's wearing a sleek, well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt and shiny leather dress shoes. He's also got his usual product in his hair, and he looks stunning. When he approaches the local park, he sees Ria waiting for him near the entrance. He takes a moment to take in her appearance, which fills him with a mixture of admiration and lust. As he walks up to her, he flashes a confident smile to greet her.

I finally spot him and smile. I was wearing a skirt and a cute top." Hi" I say shy as I approach him

Patrick is stunned when he sees Y/N approach. She looks stunning, in the light pink dress. Her hair is curled just right, and her makeup is minimal but still highlights her natural beauty. His gaze follows her as she walks towards him, and he's finding it difficult to form a coherent thought with all the blood going to a certain other area of his body. Once she's in front of him, he snaps out of it and speaks softly with a smile.*

"You look gorgeous," he murmurs as he looks her up and down. "Shall we take that taxi?"

I smile and nod" Yeah sure..." I say

Patrick smiles back, still a bit distracted by how pretty Y/N is. But when he catches her looking at him, he shakes his head to regain his composure. He offers to take her arm and lead her to the taxi stand, which she accepts. They reach the stand, and Patrick takes out his wallet to pay for the taxi.

Patrick gives the taxi driver the address of the restaurant and he starts driving.

At first, we were silent but then my phone buzzes. It was my mum" Hey mum" I say nervous "Yeah yeah I am with Sabrina don't worry" I lie to her" Okay bye" I say and close my phone.

Patrick watches as she takes the call and then lies to her mom. He feels slightly worried about the situation, but he also understands that she's young and maybe a little nervous about the date. He doesn't say anything to her, just smiles and pats her arm to let her know that he's there for her.

"Is everything ok with your mom?" he asks. "You don't have to lie if it'll put you in trouble."

As soon as Patrick's says that, he immediately regrets it. He knows that a comment about a girl's parents can be a dangerous thing.

I sigh" My mum would kill me If she finds out I am with you" I explain to him

Patrick nods slowly, absorbing this information. He was only trying to be thoughtful but now feels like he's gotten himself into a complicated situation. He's trying to think of a way to address this without coming off as a creep, but it's not easy. He starts to get anxious.*

"I promise I won't do anything to get you in trouble," he says. "If anything, I'll make sure you make it back home safe."

His tone turns a bit more flirtatious, but he immediately regrets it

"Maybe I could keep you safe all night too..."

I giggle a bit" Thank u , u seem nice" I say

Patrick can't help but let out little a laugh at his attempt at flirtation. He quickly recovers, though, and nods softly.

"I guess all we can do at this point is just go out and enjoy the night," he says. "Who knows, we might even be good friends by the end of it."

He gives her a reassuring smile as the taxi pulls up to the restaurant.

"Here we are," he says, getting out of the taxi. "Ready for our first date?"

"Shall I treat you like a princess and open the door for you?" he asks with a little laugh. "It may not be the height of romance, but I always like to pull the door for a lady."

He gestures toward the restaurant, his tone playful.

"Let's go inside. I'm sure our table is waiting for us."

I blush and we get inside the restaurant "Wow, this is such a luxurious restaurant " I say impressed as I look around and I hold Patrick's hand

Patrick smiles as she holds his hand. He looks down at her and thinks that she's even more beautiful up close. Her small and delicate fingers fit perfectly into his much larger and rougher hands, and he's tempted to just pick her up and carry her up the stairs.

"I know, right?" he says as he looks at the restaurant. "This might be one of the nicest restaurants in all of Manhattan. I hope you enjoy it."

Patrick is trying to not be so distracted by her presence, and he hopes that he can stay focused on the evening ahead.

We go and sit at our table . Patrick pulls out her chair and helps her sit down, then takes his seat across from her. He smiles at her, impressed by her beauty. He can't help but check her out with subtle glances throughout the meal, especially at the collar of her dress with the slight glimpse of her pale, slender skin. He tries his best to remain calm and respectful, but he can feel his desire for her beginning slowly begin to grow as he looks at her.

Patrick then sits in his chair and we look at the menu. Then i look back at Patrick " what will u take?" I ask

Patrick glances again at her pale, delicate neck and he's finding it difficult to stay focused on anything else besides her.*

"I think I'll go for the fettucine al burro," he says. "And maybe a few glasses of white wine to wash it down. And you?"

He quickly looks back to the menu before he accidentally says something that might be inappropriate.

I look at the menu" can I take the same as you?" I ask him

Patrick nods excitedly and closes the menu.

"Perfect! That's a great idea. Are you sure you're up for a few glasses of wine as well?"

He looks back at her with a smile and his eyes move towards her neck again. He forces himself to look back up at her face.

" um...no no....I will probably drink water" I say shyly

Patrick takes a breath and tries to control himself. He understands the situation, but it's incredibly difficult for him to hide his true feelings.

"Ok, sounds good," he says, trying to make it sound like he doesn't feel disappointed.

He smiles again, hoping that she can't see through him. "What are you studying?"

" I am studying (job/dream job)" I say and then I add" what about you?"

Patrick nods.

"I'm working on Wall Street as an investment banker," he explains. "It's a really demanding line of work, and it takes up a lot of my time. But it pays well, so I'm not complaining."

He smiles at her, feeling a little proud of himself.

I smile and then my mum calls me again" Mum I am with Sabrina yes" I say and then I pause" No mum I don't know when I will come home" I tell her" Yes Sabrina is next to me bye!" I say and hung up

Patrick tries his best not to laugh, sensing the awkward situation she's in. He's not trying to get her into trouble, but there is a tempting part of him that wishes he COULD keep her out late tonight.

"Is everything ok with your mom?" he asks. "She sounds very concerned about you."

*He can't help himself from touching her small and delicate fingers when he says this.*

"Your mom must love you a whole lot," he says. "And with a daughter as pretty as you, I can't blame her."

" No, it's not that. She is really strict. She doesn't like when I am around boys, especially older ones" I say and hold his fingers

Patrick's heart drops slightly when she says that. A part of him knows he should take her home, but another part of him is filled with the desire to keep her with him.

"We could just...not tell her...it's easy!" he says playfully, his fingers interlocked with hers. "I'm sure she doesn't have to know everything going on in your life..."

Patrck immediately regrets what he says and hopes that it doesn't seem too manipulative. He knows that she could get in trouble for spending too much time with him.

We order and after some time our dishes come in our table.

"Are you sure you don't want any wine?" he asks. "Just a glass. Come on, just one little sip..."

He looks into her eyes with a playful demeanor, trying to convince her to go against her better judgment.

I shake my head no" I 've never drank wine"

Patrick can't help but tease her slightly.

"Come on, please? We're celebrating our first date" he says playfully. "I insist that you have just a little sip of a glass of wine. It'll be fun, trust me. I'll take care of you."

Patrck is aware that he might be pressuring her a bit too much, but there's a part of him that doesn't care about her concerns at this point. He's filled with the desire to keep her with him as much as possible, no matter the cost.

I sigh and take his glasses " just one sip" I say

*Patrick is happy that he managed to convince her to have just one sip of wine. He orders the wine and fills her glass with a small amount. They both raise their glasses together.*

"Cheers!" *Patrick says, taking a sip.

Patrick watches her take a sip and his eyes slowly move down to her chest again. He begins imagining how her small and delicate white fingers would fit perfectly against him when he undresses her later tonight.

I take a dip and then I noticed that he I'd zoned out" is everything okay Patrick?"

Patrick snaps back from his small daydream and looks back up at her.

"Yes!" he says. "Everything is fine."

Patrick smiles nervously and watches the wine enter her mouth. He stares at her lips and can't help but feel his desire growing. The wine is giving him a bit of courage, so he makes his move.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asks.

I nod" mmh yeah" I say

"Would it be too forward to ask you if you could come home with me tonight?"

Patrick looks at her and smiles, his tone slightly flirtatious. He doesn't wait for her answer and immediately moves closer to her, his body almost touching hers now.

"It's just that you're really beautiful and it's our first date...I thought maybe we can keep it going back at my place?"

He's fully hoping that she will accept, despite her earlier reluctance.

I look down " I am not sure, my mum expects me home and...I feel more safe with other people around us" I say the truth and how I feel

Patrick feels slightly disappointed at her response, but he makes an effort to not show her it

"I completely understand," he says, his tone gentle and sympathetic. "I apologize for pushing too hard. I got a little carried away."

Patrick notices that she's looking down and feeling a bit nervous. He knows that she feels conflicted and he wants her to feel comfortable and safe in his company.

"Maybe some other time, then?" he says.

He tries to give her a reassuring smile as he leans slightly away from her.

"How about some more wine?" he asks after taking another sip. "Or maybe some dessert?"

He continues to look at her as he asks the questions, his face completely focused on her. He's not so subtly staring at her lips and small neck, his mind filled with the image of her naked body and his own desire to possess her.

I smile" whatever you want" I say

Patrick can see her smiling and can't help but feel a bit of pride. His flirtation has paid off, and now he has her agreeing with everything he says.

"Let's order some dessert, then" he says playfully. "You can pick, I trust you have good taste."

He chuckles a bit at his attempt at another light-hearted joke and leans forward once more in his seat.

"We have to celebrate tonight, after all," he says. "It's our first date and hopefully not our last."

Timeskip

Patrick feels a sense of victory after getting her to agree to come home with him. He was hoping he could convince her and now he's going to have her all to himself. The taxi ride to his apartment is relatively quiet, Patrick thinking about what he hopes to do to her once he gets her inside. He can feel her body pressed up against his own and notices her soft and delicate hands resting on his leg. He wonders if she'd let him kiss her or go even further than that...

(Part 2?)

[panfluidme]

Little Rambling

Okay, so I love crossovers. They were easily one of my favorite things, so here's a little ramble about a crossover I probably will never write, but might eventually

Wild Kratts meets DC (specifically Young Justice)

Jimmy's parents are rich who deal specifically with technology. They don't have a rivalry with Wayne Enterprises, instead they have a good relationship with each other. After Bruce adopted Dick, he suggested that he and Jimmy hung out together because they were both the same age

Eventually, Jimmy figures out that Bruce is Batman. He convinces Bruce to let him fight crime with him. He became Falcon Claw, but usually was just called Falcon

However, Jimmy gets into a really bad car crash then kidnapped for three weeks. He had to get his right leg amputated and had to go to the hospital. After, Jimmy decided to step away from the superhero life indefinitely

The Tortuga Crew hired Jimmy to be their pilot (a skill he had heard from Hal Jorden). Jimmy stopped exercising as much, so he got out of shape

Batman calls him to see if he would be interested in joining the Team, but he declines because he's enjoying himself with the Crew. Batman is a little disappointed because he does miss Jimmy, but is understanding of his decision

I also love the idea that Jimmy has superstrength. So like, he eats a lot because he burns through the calories a lot, even if he isn't working out all that much. Jimmy got secret abs, y'all

I'm thinking that this AU could be called something like:

Ex-Superhero Jimmy Z

Feel free to like, add onto this and make fanart if you want to. But if you do and it's specifically inspired by this post, please tag or credit me in someway

[pansexualhousecat]

this is how I think Morpheus and Hob felt about each other (and themselves a bit) throughout the centuries

Morpheus:

1389 - Wants a plaything and goes to get it. Excited to see a human begging for Death. (Sadistic motherfucker)

1489 - Finds him interesting, likes the love Hob has for human inventions and wants to see how he lives further.

1589 - Disappointed and bored, he expected more from him so he went to find someone more interesting and with more passion than current Hob.

1689 - Scared of losing him but then seeing how Hob still has love and hope for life has him falling in love fast.

1789 - Fully in love and wants to share more of himself with Hob, but they get interrupted. Flirty af. But also was disappointed in what Hob did with the slave trade.

1889 - Is happy and content to see Hob again, wants to hear him talk all day long. Proud of Hob for being a better person, but also understanding of his mistakes. Gets called out being fond of Hob and gets overwhelmed and storms out like a drama queen. He could've evaporated into sand but preferred to go out in the rain because he's so fucking dramatic.

1989 - Wet sad cat imprisoned. Release him. Sad that he was forced to miss meeting Hob especially after their fight.

2021 - He finally gets to meet Hob again after too many years. He's so fucking happy and also so relieved to see that Hob is right there, just waiting for him even after all this time. He smiles easily at him now, happy and completely in love with this foolish human who waited for him and even marked around the old inn to show him where he was. Morpheus is a fucking simp at this point but honestly after all of his romantic life being fucking terrible, he just settles for friendship for now.

—

Hob:

1389 - Definitely finds Dream super strange but also hot. Believes him even if not fully.

1489 - You can count him on being scared and horny. The man doesn't know what he got himself into but is very enthusiastic to tell Dream all about his life and what he finds interesting and cool.

1589 - Wants to make Dream proud. He's living like this thanks to Dream so he must do something amazing of his life so that he continues living, right? So why is his stranger looking the other way and leaving him alone even after all the cool things he spoke about himself? He feels angry with himself but there's also some jealousy there that he doesn't understand very well.

1689 - He's fucking miserable at this point. Though is fucking nice to finally see someone who actually talks to him like he's a real person and not a pile of shit on the road. He also missed Dream very much and wondered why he hadn't saved him, but after stopping the want to die he understood that that life was Hob's to live alone and not Dream to interfere. He misses Dream even more when they part ways this time.

1789 - Finally got his life back around and is presentable to see his stranger. I'm 100% sure he finds Dream super hot right now I don't care. Definitely figured out his feelings after the last meeting in 1689 and was super excited to meet Dream again and show his worth. Is annoyed at Dream for trying to interfere in his life because he has never done that before, even when he was at hos worst. He understands after the explanation and feels shame. The fight ensues and he knows, he knows that Dream most probably doesn't need his help but he's going on 50% instinct to protect who he loves and 50% on showing off to Dream lol. Flirty motherfucker. They should've fucked this year istg.

1889 - Hob has reflected on his terrible mistakes and got better, helping instead of harming. His mistakes still haunt him, though, so he still feels shame for the horrible things he did. He's happy that Dream interfered at the time. A bit depressed. Reflected even more about his feelings for Dream and wanted to suggest for them to meet more, to make this more intimate and not like it's a business transaction. He's not stupid either, he knows that Dream at least sees him as a friend at least, he wouldn't care so much about him if he didn't. He tried to explain about it but it went terribly wrong. Hates himself for opening his big mouth but at the same time doesn't regret a thing. He trusts and loves Dream, even if the guy is a total drama queen.

1989 - He knows he said he trusted Dream and all that but he's actually so fucking nervous. What the fuck will he do if Dream doesn't show up? And then Dream actually doesn't show up. He waits all day for him, hoping to see the tall man clad in all black. But to no avail. He gets super stressed after knowing that the inn is going to shut down, so he obviously does the most rational decision... buys a new fucking inn and names it The New Inn so he can hopefully see his stranger again next century! Fucking simp.

2021 - He's a teacher now and every afternoon after his morning classes he goes to The New Inn to wait. Hob's hope never faded, so he couldn't do anything more than just wait for his stranger every day for all these years. He even continued in the same city without leaving, afraid of being discovered again after the witch trials... But he needed to stay there for his stranger. And then he finally came to him. Hob is simply and completely in love with this man, even after being made to wait so many years for him.

[olderthannetfic]

People going on about how they're representing this whole Greek thing are missing that that one anon had a pretty good point about how "cultural appropriation" rhetoric gets misused. People do really need to be more specific about what the issue is, or it very easily turns into basically just arguing for cultural segregation. I've seen that happen numerous times on this website over the years. I've seen people argue that it's appropriative to do something like *learn about* another culture or learn its language. I think it's really important for people to keep an eye on what are the actual issues with cultural appropriation (mostly about exploitation and colonialism) and not just the idea that cultural mixing is bad, or that being interested in a culture that isn't your own is bad. Because the truth is, whether you intend this or not, if you're just arguing that everyone should only keep to the culture of their ethnicity or their place of origin or both, then you're basically in agreement with white supremacists. It's not that cultures mixing is bad; most culture is a result of some mixture. It's when it's done in a way that's exploitative and/or disrespectful: like reducing sacred symbols like indigenous war bonnets to a fashion accessory, or incorporating the art of another culture into your own art without giving credit and without paying anyone from that culture who taught you or added to your work.

FTR, I don't think you can "appropriate" ancient mythologies. I think people are getting twisted around though because there is a genuine history of colonial exploitation of Greek artifacts by colonial powers to fill their museums, as with the Elgin marbles. I do think it's still a good idea to be properly informed about them, regardless, at the very least because those make for the more interesting retellings. For all that people (who IME, largely haven't read it, I'd love to hear if people who have read it disagree though) rag on Song of Achilles, I actually thought it was a pretty good example of a retelling because the author, who has an educational background in mythology, takes great pains to try to recreate the society and cultural norms of Greece at that time rather than sugarcoat it. Achilles may be even more of a jerk than he was in the original Iliad, tbh. It's telling to me that the author's other books that are less "shippy" don't have as negative of a reputation on here in that regard as Song of Achilles, despite being fairly similar, and it makes me wonder how much of that is because it's popular among "fujoshi fandom" so people just assume it MUST be shallow and fandomified, and I was super shocked at how much it really wasn't that at all. As well as I saw that a lot of people expecting something more like that were disappointed by all the period-accurate misogyny and so on.

Which brings me to another point: another reason I'm skeptical of a lot of this discourse is that it seems like often it's more of a high-culture, low-culture thing. A thing that is popular with M/M fanfic writers can't POSSIBLY be doing it right. A thing that is a popular video game or Tony-winning Broadway musical that is popular with the fandoms for those things, can't possibly be accurate. And I get that a lot of that is because a lot of populist things that took from Greek mythology have been inaccurate (Disney's Hercules, for instance) but if you're going to criticize the accuracy of something, I think it is worth engaging with the original work and what it actually does rather than just assuming It's Popular It Must Suck. It feels like a lot of this turns into lording that you were into it before X over others. And being aware that Tumblr Recommendations often do a poor job of actually giving you a good idea of what the work is really like.

As well as, of course, asking yourself - as we should with any sort of historical inaccuracy etc. - if the inaccuracy was deliberate or not. Sometimes people are not really telling that story in order to tell the most accurate version of something but to make a different kind of point, and so the changes might be deliberate. I would argue this is true with something like Hadestown.

That doesn't mean you can't still dislike it for that reason, of course. I know a lot of classical musicians who dislike the movie Amadeus for being so inaccurate about Mozart's and Salieri's lives. I like it despite that because I think the point it is trying to make is stronger for not sticking to the historical fact. I just wish more people did know the historical fact, though.

--

One would think the "Is it bad if I learn to cook Thai food?" thing was a strawman... but I've seen it in the wild far too many times.

[persieee-yoohoo]

Easy to Love, Easier to Betray (Part 2)

Pair: Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: maybe ooc?, smut (I attempted gender neutral stuff), language

Summary: You had never been to the Summer Court before, but Rhysand finally gave in to your incessant bothering and brought you along with Amren and Feyre. Unaware of the real reason behind the Night Court's visit, you played your unknown role well and got along with Tarquin a little too easily. When the truth is revealed and people are betrayed, will anything be enough to bring two people back together? (Sort-of retelling of the Summer Court visit for half of the Book of Breathings and several events that followed.)

Note: this is my first time writing smut, so sorry it if it is complete ass, ;D

Also available: ao3

Read Part 1: Here

You kept your promise the following day, not wanting to disappoint Tarquin or even yourself. The liquid courage from the bottle of wine you'd consumed the night before had long-since faded, but the phantom heat of Tarquin's breath on your neck kept you from backing down from the opportunity to get to know the High Lord more. Your nerves caused you to take a few extra minutes that morning to get ready, which meant you missed the spread of breakfast that was most likely getting picked over by your Night Court company, but you wanted to look perfect.

There was no doubt that Tarquin seemed to want you as much as you wanted him, from the heated stares that seared your body and the desperate words that he'd scribbled on paper the previous night, but still you worried. He was a High Lord, despite how much he was teased for his age, and you were a spy. So many things could go wrong, but a sensual voice in the back of your mind reminded you that so many things could go right too.

“Going on a date?” Rhysand practically pounced on you the minute you stepped out of your room, his teasing mood overly compensating for the flash of disappointment that darkened his purple eyes for just a moment. He was dressed in his statement black with a feline smirk adorning his face as he sent a wink your way. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I don't have a date. I—” You gulped, knowing that any effort to lie would just be lost on your High Lord. He knew you long enough to see right past the bullshit, and you'd given him access to your mind too many times to think that this instance would be any different. “Tarquin requested my company for the day after our meeting. Is that a crime?”

“No,” Rhysand's grin only seemed to widen at your confession, “of course it isn't a crime. I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Besides, it'll give me a chance to get back in dear Feyre's good graces. She's upset with me, if you didn't know.” Well, that explains the disappointment.

As if she'd been listening in, a loud crash was heard from the room Feyre was still hiding in, and you both quickly found yourselves heading to the meeting room.

“Feyre was right.”

Tarquin quickly took notice of the gold jewelry adorning your body, the many rings, the layered body chains, and guided you to one of his court's treasure troves. The tour had been meant for Feyre, but Rhysand had whisked her away before she could even politely deny the offer once their talk of armadas and sailing had concluded. With your plan to already be Tarquin's for the day, you easily stepped in her place. The fae seemed so proud of himself at discerning an interest of yours that you didn't have to heart to explain that you only stepped out of your room that day dripping in jewelry for his enjoyment rather than your own.

As you stood in the center of the room, full of valuables beyond your belief, facing Tarquin while you held a box containing a necklace of black diamonds, you could almost swear that you felt a light tug deep within your chest. It was subtle, and you almost ignored it if the male opposite you hadn't twitched as if he himself also felt it. Tarquin wasn't facing you, but he looked over his broad shoulder to where you stood and assessed what you were holding. If Tarquin didn't deem the faint feeling as something worth talking about, then you wouldn't mention it either.

“What was Feyre right about? We've spoken about a great deal of things,” the male spoke as if Feyre was the last thing on his mind while in your presence, especially as he made his way to you. The closer Tarquin got, the smaller the room felt around you. You suddenly felt crowded by all the jewels and treasures, with nowhere to escape as Tarquin's broad body loomed over you. His height and stature made you scoff, but your breath hitched as a warm chuckle escaped Tarquin's lips. “Have I rendered you speechless already?”

Exhaling a long breath, you met his gaze before you spoke, “she told you that it would be easy to fall in love with you.”

“And you agree?” His fingers teased the ends of your hair, pulling at the strands only slightly enough to earn a gasp from you.

You didn't know if you wanted to respond. It would be so easy to give in, almost effortless, but that just meant it would be near impossible to pull yourself back.

Tarquin took your silence in and brought your focus back to him as his thumb and forefinger captured your chin. He kept you there, searching your eyes for what you truly wanted. “Y/N, answer me. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

Relief caused Tarquin's shoulders to sag, but he was still standing strong as he thought out his next move. Slowly slotting his lips against yours, Tarquin gave one final chance to back away, to stop yourself from regretting this— him. His lips were as warm as the heated air of his court, and you didn't mind getting burned by them as you deepened the kiss. You both continued your sensuous dance of lips and teeth, and it was clear who was leading and who was following.

Tarquin could kiss you however he wanted to if it meant he continued to hold you up by the strong hands that had sneaked around your waist after they abandoned their gentle hold at your face. You never wanted to drown in the sea, but there in that moment with him trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, you wanted to drown in the ocean of power that lurked beneath the heated skin of the Summer High Lord. Tarquin had bewitched you with his kisses, surrendered you with his gentle nips, and commanded you with his soothing licks across the marks he made on your exposed skin.

His presence surrounded you, blocking out any thoughts you had about the pricelessness of the objects that were scattered around you and filling your head only with thoughts of him. “Pick anything here, and it's yours.”

Tarquin had only pulled away from your skin for a moment, long enough to say his peace before he continued his exploration across your upper body. It was maddening, and it took tremendous strength to form together a proper response that wasn't just moans and gasps from your enjoyment.

“Are you trying to buy my affections with jewelry?” Your voice was breathy as you scanned whatever part of the room you could from where you stood with your arms clinging to Tarquin's back and your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. “I have no need for more jewelry, but you might win the affections of my female friends with what you have hoarded here.” Always working, always scheming, Rhysand would be proud.

“Just the females? What would Rhysand fall for?” As your High Lord's name fell from Tarquin's lips, you gently pushed him away. Your lips were bruised and your body was buzzing with remnant electricity from your shared heated moment, but Rhysand's name and the change in topics tampered your needy mood.

“If you give in to Feyre's fancies, he'll be sure to follow.” Even a small distance between you had your thoughts becoming your own again. You no longer ached to be one with Tarquin, but a tether deep within you longed for something similar as it continued to grow taught. “The Cursebreaker has sway over him, but I'm sure you were already aware.”

“Fine,” Tarquin huffed, coming down from the desirous high that was building between you and playing the part of a High Lord once again. “I'll let you humor me. What should I gift Rhys' emissary?”

“This,” You drop the necklace of black diamonds that you had picked up again after being dropped onto the floor in the heat of the moment into his grasp, and cross your arms over your chest. You looked at his chin rather than his eyes as you continued, “she'll love it, and it might be enough to have her lobby for an alliance with you.”

“You wouldn't lobby one for me? Even after the intimate moment we've just shared?” Once more, Tarquin's free hand found your chin and pulled your focus to his own eyes. “That doesn't seem like the rumors I've heard about the Night Court. I thought seduction was how you lot found the higher ground to get what you want?”

“I don't mix business with pleasure, Tarquin. If one is what you want, then you'll forfeit the other.” You couldn't help but think that this is what Rhysand wanted from your presence on the trip. A distraction for the untested High Lord of the Sumer Court so his plot could unfurl without a hitch. It was never as simple as your old friend giving into your desire to visit a new court, and you were a fool to believe that for even a second. “Tarquin—”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I pick pleasure.” Tarquin would have begged if that would've been what you needed to desire him the way he desired you. He would've dropped to his knees, which was quite a feat for the strong High Lord he needed everyone to believe he was. “I want pleasure, if you want it as well.”

It killed you not to let Tarquin in on your thoughts about why this budding relationship played right into Rhysand's hands, but you couldn't be bothered to as Tarquin guided you into another kiss and pulled you to the ground right in the middle of the treasure trove.

“I do.”

Tarquin took his time undressing you, first following your body from head to toe with his eyes, and then using his hands to strip you bare at an agonizingly slow pace. With the careful touches and gentle glances he gave you as more fabric came off, it was hard not to let your sighs come across as impatient rather than blissful. You needed him, and it was getting harder to ignore the heat pooling deep in your belly or the way your lower body visibly reacted to Tarquin.

Where other lovers might have teased you for your eagerness to be pressed against the cool floor under the weight of another's body, Tarquin only smiled. He enjoyed watching you squirm for more, for him to stop wasting precious time and just fuck you already.

“Tar—” His name was lost on the tip of your tongue as a whine ripped from somewhere deep in your throat. The frustration you were feeling, and hoping to warn the High Lord about, was replaced by immediate pleasure when Tarquin pressed a hand between your thighs.

You struggled to buck your hips against his hand for more friction, but Tarquin was already pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you flushed with the ground. He was in control, and you couldn't even arch your back off the ground to slide your chest against his.

This was torture, you thought.

“I'm not going to rush this, my little pearl.” Nudging your legs apart, Tarquin settled himself lower on your body between your thighs. His hands remained where they were, one pressed against your belly and the other cupping your aching sex. The parts of his skin that you could see stretched over his muscle enticingly and you tried again to buck up against him.

“I'm the only one naked. It puts me at a disadvantage.” You spoke around another whine as Tarquin slowly dragged his tongue against the aching spot that you needed him the most. With his head dipped to hover just above your hips, you reached with your fingers just enough to thread them through the high lord's white hair. With the long tresses of his hair caught between your fingers, you pulled against his roots to get him to reach your stare.

Tarquin obeyed your summons, moaning deeply as his half-lidded eyes lazily met yours. His tongue was still resting against your body in a sinful way, but he paused his ministrations to give you the attention you had pointedly called for.

“Strip,” Your demand began as a whisper, the noise almost caught in your throat at the sight of him, but you persevered. “I want to see you like how you see me.”

“Say please, pearl.”

“Please.”

Even though you asked for it, even though it was what you wanted, you hated every moment that Tarquin was disconnected from your body as he leaned back into a kneeling position on the floor. With the room lit by warm faelight, Tarquin had a golden halo of light casted around his body's silhouette. The sight was godly, especially as he shrugged off his clothes and bared his naked body to you. Tarquin was beautiful, and you would've told it to him over and over if he didn't take your breath away by reaching one of his strong hands down his body to stroke himself several times before crawling back over you.

“Are we even now?” His voice was like a caress and you shivered beneath him. You still had no words, so you only nodded as your cheeks flamed beneath his gaze.

Rather than going back to your waiting sex, Tarquin settled for pressing his body flush with yours. His wicked mouth was curved in a smirk and he was no longer the same High Lord you met the other day. Gone was the look of unease that had tried to hide behind a mask of shaken confidence, replaced by utter cockiness.

“I can feel you practically dripping against me. Tell me what you want. Beg for it.”

With no unnecessary fabric separating your warm bodies, you intimately felt every inch of skin that pressed against you. Still though, it wasn't enough for you. You need friction, you needed movement.

And if Tarquin wasn't going to give it to you, then you would take it for yourself.

You weren't Azriel's spy for nothing, you had the necessary skillset that the job demanded from you. With a brief moment to rally your strength, you forced Tarquin to the ground as you followed his movements by rolling on top of him. The look of surprise that had his eyes widening and mouth slightly agape was quickly replaced by a look of failing restraint as your ass began grinding against his stiff erection beneath you.

“I'm not in the mood for games, either you fuck me or I'll go find someone that will.” It was an empty threat. You wouldn't go find someone else. If anything, you'd just retreat to your own temporary room and take care of the dull ache between your legs yourself, but Tarquin didn't need to know that.

“Oh, is that right? I better do something about that then.” Tarquin brought his ebony fingers to your pouting lips and coaxed you into taking two digits into the warmth of your mouth with teasing coos. “That's it…good pet.”

Once his fingers were sufficiently covered in your spit, he pulled them from your mouth and trailed them down your body until he got to your waiting entrance.

Tarquin worked one finger into you, making quick work of opening you up little by little before he added another. He needed you to be ready to take him, to handle that pleasurable stretch that would slingshot you to ecstasy. To silence the moans that were being dragged from your throat as he scissored his digits deep within you, you leaned down and lost yourself in a heated kiss with the High Lord. You'd barely even begun, and you were already beginning to come undone around his experienced fingers. “Tarquin, I'm ready…just hurry up already.”

A dark laugh struck you right in the core as he leaned back on his supporting arm to look you over as you sat above him, riding his hand, desperate for more.

“Just remember, pearl, you asked for this.” Tarquin guided you off of his fingers and lap just so he could reposition you on the floor. You felt the bite of the cool floor beneath your naked body as your lover laid you out on your elbows and knees.

Your knees were kept spread apart by his own positioned between you, and your upper body arched as you felt light kisses trail from your neck down to the lower dip of your back. The brief intimacy was the only gentleness you were allowed before Tarquin thrusted back into you, picking an unforgiving pace that had you reaching for anything to steady you on the ground but coming up empty.

A strong hand found purchase on your fleshy hip, digging into the soft, glistening skin as another pressed your back into a deeper arch that gave him a better angle to drive into you from behind. His deep groans and your gasping breaths were the only noises that filled the treasure trove, and the smell of your sins mixed together amongst the jewels and other riches.

The two of you created a symphony, an orchestra made from two people, an untested High Lord and a gullible spy. Every time Tarquin's body snapped against yours, a moan was drawn from your slack mouth, and every time you clenched around Tarquin's cock, a quiver passed over his tense body. It was a game of call and response, and every response increased in intensity and volume the closer you both got to finding a tandem release. The lewd echoing of skin against skin was drowned by the guttural noises being pulled from one another.

“Tarquin— I'm..ah fuck.. I'm so close.” You tried reaching beneath your body to reach the point between your thighs that ached almost painfully, but Tarquin beat you there. The hand that had stabilized his frantic movements as he was pounding away into you snaked around to your front where he knew he would be able to drive you over the edge almost immediately.

“Come with me. Say my name, let your dirty fucking mouth scream my name for everyone to hear.” Though he whispered his words quietly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, you heard every word. Tarquin's pacing seemed erratic now, no clear pattern being followed as he rutted against you.

You screamed out Tarquin's name as you splintered around his dick, his swift fingers relentlessly elongating the high that made you drunk on him. His release quickly followed your own, his hips slamming into you once more before stilling completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was hoarse and he collapsed against your back to recover from the intensity of the orgasm you coaxed out of him.

Even as he stayed seated within you, his hilt flush against your rear, evidence of both of your releases trailed down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. The two of you may have to take a few minutes to recover from that blinding high, but then you'd have to wear about cleaning the mess beneath you to erase any trace of your animalistic actions from the treasure trove.

And after that, you'd have to somehow face the members of both his inner court and your own, and deal with the consequences of your actions, whatever they may be.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Treasure - Captain Hook x Reader

Ship: Captain Hook x Reader

Trope: Love at first sight (Smut)

Warnings: Kidnapping, somewhat manhandling, abandon and boredom.

Note: This was nothing short of a challenge. But it was fun, honestly. I got to explore something I never did before with writing for an animated character and not one I would have thought about if I'm being honest. Hope you like it @disney-girl67 :).

The salt in the air lingered, the sun’s heat relentless against your skin, while you were watching people played around in the water. It was becoming traditional by now. At the end of spring, when the pools were opening again, you would always go to the beach. It dated back to a time in high school. That time when you had wanted to run away from adults and teens alike. Just jump in the water and hope it would take you somewhere else.

Your life was blatantly boring. It was a limitless horizon of disappointment and no expectations or responsibilities on your mind. Just a manageable job, and manageable dreams. The sea was long gone. Even so, the tempest it was lighting up in your heart resisted to be extinguished.

“Come on! The water’s warm!”

A wet hand grabbed yours and dragged you down the beach towards the water. Sharon had been a close friend of yours since kindergarten. She was the one who brought you to the beach back in high school. She splashed your face with the lukewarm water and it made you laugh.

“You look like you’ve seen the love of your life die. Tell me. What’s got you in that mood again?

-Always for the dramatics, huh?

-Don’t divert the discussion. Spill the beans.”

Just like the heat, she would not let you go that easily. You loved her for it and - sometimes - could even be grateful for it.

“I… I want to go. Travel. See the world, live on a boat and eat coconuts for a week. I don’t know, okay! I just… I feel lost here.

-Could it be the fact that Carter has dumped you that is influencing this?”

You both walked back to your towels and dropped in a huff.

“No. Well, maybe. I just… He was nice and sweet. I thought it could be enough but he said I didn’t pull my weight in the relationship anymore. He was right, that’s the worst part.

-Hey, if you could not pull it, there must have been a good reason for that and he didn’t dwell on that part did he?”

Your chuckle was drowned by the cries of some passersby, pointing to the horizon. Somehow, a boat - and a big one at that - was entering the bay you were in. Yet, there was no docks for the crew to accost. Oddly, a thrill ran through you when the ship got closer and you could see distinctively a flag with a skull on it. Could this be… a pirate ship? No. There would be no need for a pirates’ ship to come this close to the shore. They would be more interested in the open waters. Right?

“Sharon, what do you think this boat is doing here?

-I have no clue. But I have no intentions of staying to find that out. Let’s get back to the car, okay?”

You felt yourself nod quickly, but while she was gathering her stuff your gaze was drawn back to the shifting silhouette on the horizon. Another thrill ran through you, when Sharon grabbed your hand and all but dragged you towards the parking lot along with the rest of the people there.

Meanwhile, on the boat, the crew was pretty much just as bewildered as you were. “Smee! Smee!

-Y-yes, captain?

-What is this?”

The hook narrowingly missed Smee’s nose, pointing at the shore in front of them.

“I-I don’t know Captain… We followed your instructions to the letter…

Well, you must have followed them wrong, because this does not look like an island and even less like a treasure island does it?!”

Even though he knew deep down the question to be rhetorical, Smee could not help but answer. “No, it doesn’t sir.”

The captain ran a hand down his face, visibly exasperated by his second in command.

“Go and clean the deck with the toothbrush, maybe that’ll teach you exactitude!” Hook reached the upper deck and addressed the rest of his crew in a commanding tone. Even if half of them were still under the influence of rum and half sleeping standing up.

“Everyone to their posts! I want the ship cleaner than it ever was. You can thank Smee for the disaster this treasure hunt is going to be!”

Barely looking behind him, he turned around towards the sea. They were coming closer and there was no sight of a docking area. There were a few silhouettes running away from the beach. Some onlookers who probably got scared at his arrival. Good. His reputation must have followed him to these unknown territories. Hook’s hand reached inside his jacket, retrieving a map, a compass losing its north, and his loyal spyglass. He settled on a makeshift desk he had Smee built for him. As usual the man did a horrid job at it, but he did it and that was better than nothing.

“Let’s see…”

They had gone to a fairy on Neverland. She had promised him a treasure more valuable than anything he had known before. He only pretended to believe her. Not that she had no credits but he was always wary of the people of Neverland. Such as that tiresome boy. He clenched his teeth and focused on the map once more. Since last night it would not stop moving, the lines and rivers melting together, the seas drowning the coasts. He did not recognize any of the lands and would not be telling anyone any time soon. His mustache twitched before he settled himself, gripping and breaking the edges of Smee’s desk. Horrid work, indeed. He glanced back at the beach and noticed that one of the silhouettes was still there, as if watching - almost waiting - for them to arrive. He grabbed his spyglass and what he saw cut his breath right out of his throat. A woman. Her eyes shining as sea-pearls in the dark, the wind wiping her hair out in a wave, an air about her he did not recognize as being of this world. His mouth ran dry. Never before could he have sworn that his heart was going to beat out of his chest in agony. He had to know her. He had to be with her, to breathe the same air, to make her laugh, oh her laugh had to be extraordinary, and her eyes on him could only be described as hungry, as if she was seeing right through him, past the hook and the bravado and the handsome face. A deep desire took flight inside of him. There would be no return from this. Damn the treasure, damn the promised gold. He had to have you with him.

Before he could give any orders, another young woman grabbed your hand and drove you away. He swore out loud.

“How dare she?”

Licking his lips, he intently followed her movements, knowing deep in him that you did not want to leave. He would have you. You were his and he had to take you before that the other one reached her goal.

“Smee! Find us a docking point! I’m going alone with the craft, this could be dangerous business. You are to remain on the ship and take care of everything. Believe me, if my ship isn’t whole when I come back, you’re losing your head!

-Ye-Yes, captain!”

Poor Smee was panicked, yet Hook could not bring himself to care. He was in love.

* You had already reached the car when you realized your keys had fallen behind on the beach.

“Fuck.

-What’s going on?

-My keys, I… They must have fallen off… I have to go back.”

Sharon gestured to you. “Do you want me to go with you?” She was already on the phone with emergency services, trying to figure out what they could do. It appeared they were as clueless as everyone else on this beach.

“No need. I’ll do it quick.” You ran as fast as you could and reached the beach, already seeing the glint of metal buried in the sand. As you were about to pick it up, you felt a presence. A man, tall, slender and eyes the deepest dark you’d ever seen was looking at you as if he was seeing another human being for the first time. You fell on your back. Somehow, his presence was more surprising than threatening. He was dressed in a historical attire, looking out of place on this 21st century beach. You felt under-dressed, with your bathing suit and a makeshift skirt. His stare was starting to make you feel that. His hand reached out to you, yet your instinct made you recoil. He had a hook. Gleaming in the sunlight, sharp edged. That made you feel more and more threatened. You were heaving, eyes locked with his as in trance. It felt so very bizarre. You knew he would would not hurt you. How you knew that, was a mystery.

“Who are you?”

It seemed to snap him out of his trance. You got up on your feet, finally meeting on equal foot. Or so to speak, the man was really, really tall. Your chest tightened at the thought, bringing you a step closer to the stranger, hypnotized.

“You do not know of me? The great captain Hook? Chaser of treasure and defeater of the Neverland crocodile?! This land is indeed odder than I’d imagined…”

You tried to hide a widening smile. He was weird. You liked it. In a childlike manner, your hand brushed against his cheek, making him go stiff, his whole body almost snapping. You traced his face as if a delicacy, fingertips gracing his features and leaving him breathless. Hook closed his eyes under the sudden care. He was shaking, you could see it. He grabbed your waist and drew you in. So close, you could feel the tension in his shoulders under your palms, the smell of leather and salt and wood hitting you, his fingers digging in your skin in a delicious pain. Before you could process that train of thought, he dipped his head in your neck, close to your ear. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, in a an almost but not quite kiss. All you heard was “Mine” in his ushered voice, possessive and down right enticing. Then, you were hauled up in a small craft and the shore disappeared in the blink of an eye.

*

Boarding the ship had not been the hardest part.

The hardest part had been to keep the crew at bay.

“Who is this?” “A woman on board? We’re all cursed!” And other expletives you were very willing to forget.

Luckily, night had fallen rather quickly. Hook kept you in his chambers, to keep you safe. He did not want any of his fellow men to attempt anything ungentlemanly. As if kidnapping you was what a gentleman would do in the first place. Although, you had always had a thing for villains.

After the thrill and adrenaline had worn off, the fact that they were pirates - and apparently good ones at that otherwise that kidnapping could have gone very much sideways - hit you like a freight train. The most unbelievable part being the fact that they came from Neverland. Could they really be straight out of the Peter Pan’s book? You would not dare ask the question. If they were, then you were likely never to see those shores again. If they weren’t you were very likely to meet your end in these very same shores. You knew which option you preferred, even if completely unbelievable.

“Milady.”

Hook’s entrance made you jump. He closed the door behind him, after a deep curtsy. He brought food. You hesitated for a minute, before throwing yourself at it. You were starving. Not minding you one bit, the captain walked past you, putting his jacket and hat away. When you finally looked at him, the boat was swaying softly with the waves underneath you, and the man before you was merely covered by a thin shirt and heavy pants. Like that he almost looked harmless. Almost.

“Why did you take me?”

He smirked, toying with his hook. His steps were measured, slow. For each one he took, you took one back. Hence, you found yourself caged against the wooden wall behind you, food completely abandoned. Eyes boring into you, you would not look at him. In doing so, you were subjecting yourself to another kind of sight. The open linen. The beginning of the throat. The Adam’s apple, bobbing as if in anticipation.

The hook was cold against your chin, pushing your face up to meet his. A breath away, he stood his ground, chest to chest, his hand naturally molding itself on your hip. You could not find it in yourself to stop him.

“Don’t you know?”

Every breath you took, every movement you made, he felt. It was intoxicating. And captain Hook was not known for his restraint. He did not wait for your answer. Instead, his lips met your neck, harshly pulling on the skin, surely leaving a purple mark. The pain shot through you, your hand about to push him off when you heard it.

“Mine… All mine.”

His nose nuzzled the side of your face, his hot breath against the shell of your ear. You wanted not to believe him. You wanted not to follow him down that path. It was too late. If you had not wanted him to take you in the first place, you could have jumped and swam back to shore. Yet, it had never even crossed your mind, for you were not afraid with him. You were under a spell. Could it be a spell or just you being bored? Still, you were not willing to break it. You were bewitched. And he called you his. How could you resist that?

So you let him. You let him snap the straps of your bathing suit, one after the other. You let him grab your breast in his hand, the hook grazing down your chest, him sucking on your nipple like a man starving. No words could form in your mouth, only moans and lip bitten cries. Finally, he pulled the remainder of your clothing down your legs. You felt exposed and shy, but willed your legs apart when his hand caressed your inner thighs. His fingertips were spreading goosebumps up and down your body when he stopped.

He tossed his shirt over his head, hunger in his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed, and a wide mischievous smile drew on his face. Without breaking eye contact, he spread his legs wide a suave light burning in his eyes. The captain was watching you intently. You were standing still, against the wall, fearing you might fall if you took any step forward. The desire was dampening your skin, leaking through you. He licked his lip and your whole body tensed under his full blown pupils.

“Come here”

It was not a request, but a demand. You yielded easily. Heavy breaths after each step, he drew the hook out at the last one, bringing your wrist and your whole body to him. He pushed a piece of hair out of your face, the cold metal of the hook dragged down the length of your throat to the top of your breasts. The heated skin of his shoulders under your palms was not enough. A whine escaped you. He smirked and chuckled.

“Now, kneel”

You did. You were positively drooling as he undid his pants and threw them somewhere in the room. You could not care less as you were now facing the length of his shaft, the velvety skin already meeting your tongue for you would not wait a minute longer. Hook was taken by surprise, leading him to let out a moan that had you whimper. All too soon he regained control and put his hand behind your head. You took the tip of his dick inside your mouth, easing yourself around him. He would have none of it, putting your mouth to good use and pushing himself deeper down your throat. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every stroke he pushed in your mouth. Your nose was getting crushed against his pelvis, his hair’s scent imprinting itself in your mind. Despite his resistance to it, he could not help the sinful noises escaping him, the heavy sighs or the marvel in his eyes when he saw how good you could take him.

“Good… Mine…Yes… Yes…Just like…”

Your hands ran from his tone thighs to his ass, looking for a way to hold on to something. The movement made him even harder in your mouth and before any of you could stop, he bottomed out in you. You swallowed it whole, and you could have sworn he twitched when you did. Finally he pulled out, sweat-beads all over his scarred torso, a fond wicked smile across his face. He bunched his shirt in his fist and used it to clean your mouth. You let yourself nuzzle against his hand as he did so. He helped you up before pushing you down on the bed, so hard you yelped.

“What…?

-Shush now little mouse. Let me…”

The words stopped in his throat. He was parting your legs and could already see, smell, and soon feel the luxurious wet mound waiting for him. He gathered some on his tongue and moaned at the taste.

“All of this for me? You shouldn’t have, darling…”

Your back curved into an impossible crescent, he pushed down on your stomach to stop you from writhing so much. But how could you not? His mouth sucking hickeys up the length of your thighs, meeting your clitoris with that much hunger and thirst? You were trashing around well before he finally started licking you. You were shivering in fever as he kept sucking, licking and biting. The coil in you was only growing stronger and stronger with each new touch of his tongue, when he pulled your lips apart with his hook. The new sensation threw you in for a new loop. He applied gentle pressure against your clit, painting the metal with the waters you were delivering him with. Once satisfied he started licking it himself, leaving you plenty of time to catch your breath and ogle him while he did. All the while, not noticing his hand finally coming to rest on your mound, before he pushed two fingers in. The pain was exquisite. He did not move, leaving you to clamp around him in agony, sweating and begging for release.

“Please, please, please fuck me, please I’ll be good, please…

-Well, when it’s asked so nicely…”

The dark tone in his voice made you shiver. He pulled out completely, towering over you. You did not have time to think as he turned you around face first in the mattress, ass up in the air. His patience was running thin, yet he still took the time to squeeze your ass cheeks, tracing invisible lines up and down your skin. All of a sudden, he pushed inside you and your toes curled. From then on, he was relentless, his rhythm merciless and strong, while the echoes of your cries were filling the room. His dick was swallowing all your thoughts and fears, hitting a spot in you you didn’t even knew existed. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had. Hook sneaked his hand between your thighs to your clitoris, controlling the peaks of pleasure in you still going at you, screaming your pleasure, weakening your voice with each thrusts, all the while keeping you down at his will. Soon enough, your release coated the sheets and his trickled down your thighs. Breathless and high on sex, you let yourself be guided under the covers, the room dampened by the heavy air. Before you could act, a swift salted breeze blew past you, a pleasant chill running through your bones. The captain had opened a small window, letting the outside winds in.

He joined you, his skin scorching hot under your fingers. It did nothing to stop you from touching him. Only then did he asked for your name.

“I shall treasure it with all my heart.”

Only then, as you gave it, did he realize he had missed something. The fairy had never mentioned a physical treasure of gold and jewelries. She had hardly mentioned anything at all if he could recall.

You were his treasure. How he could have missed it, well that was probably - most assuredly - Smee’s fault as usual. He let his palm up your arm and settled on your neck, making you look at him through the haze you were still in.

“Hook…

-James.”

You smiled at him, understanding his meaning immediately. Definitively the best dream. Alas, one which had to end.

“James, I have to go back.

-No, you don’t.

-My friend is waiting for me, she’s probably afraid and…

-No. You won’t go back.”

His tone left no place for question. He pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You wanted to stay. Desperately. Your life was not worth it. It was not worth abandoning something - someone - that felt this good. Reason was telling you to leave. Your heart, to stay. Even if this was indeed a dream, staying in it longer than what was needed could not hurt anyone. You knew it wasn’t, coming to terms with the fact that this was indeed real and alive and there for the taking. You could write letters to Sharon. And your family. They would understand. Hopefully.

A nod was all it took. As if he thought you would refuse again, he let out a not so discreet sigh. For the first time, he called your name. He called your name, silently, hoping you would not disappear. The look of utter awe you gave him was enough. He pushed a little closer, bringing his leg around yours, his lips finally meeting yours. You faced him fully, bringing your body impossibly closer to him. Never before had you felt this kind of connexion to someone. The kiss was heated, barely breathing, exchanging nips on each other’s lip, leaving both of you wanting more.

“What now, Captain?”

He smiled a devilish grin, his hand sneaking behind your head, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. It thrilled you.

“Keep calling me Captain, until you can not speak anymore.”

The order was followed through, to the letter.

[catboybiologist]

1 month HRT update and journal thingy!

So as I said in my pinned post, I'm gonna be doing a monthly kind of progress check on HRT. Well, it's been 32 days, so here it is! Here's some measurements of interest:

But, I found that the raw measurements, and a single "other column" wasn't sufficient to really catalogue my experience. So I wrote a long, probably overly detailed account of some of the things I've experienced in the past month.

And holy shit, what a month it's been.

So first off, lets start with what’s not happening. Some good, some bad. I think I missed the skin softness gene or something. I’ve really noticed no change in skin texture, and that’s often cited as the first noticeable physical change from HRT. My skin was somewhat soft before, but nothing like the transfemmes I know irl, so this was a bit disappointing. But in all honesty, it’s not that big of a deal.

The other thing that I haven’t noticed yet is a reduced aerobic capacity or physical ability. I’m sure this will come in time, but the interesting thing here is that one of my main physical activities, freediving, is actually a far more direct measurement of aerobic capacity than most others. I can’t do this in nearly a consistent enough way to actually log it, but my casual breath hold times in the couple of times I’ve been freediving since starting HRT haven’t changed. On a fairly standard dive, I usually stay down 60-70 seconds, and that’s still true. With good prep and good air conservation on the bottom (I like to hold onto rocks and kelp, and stay motionless while looking around lol), I can get 90 seconds or beyond (I don’t like pushing it). Part of the problem is that so much of this is variable, and is highly dependent on how good my equipment prep is that day (insulation and weighting), water conditions (cold and rough=more energy=shorter dives), and my boy physiology (how much I’ve eaten, caffeine intake, etc). But in general, I haven’t noticed major physical fitness changes yet. 

Weight gain has been intermittent. I’ve always been a bit swingy on my weight, and can easily go +/- 5lbs in no time at all. At one point, I was 4lbs over my pre-HRT weight (3 week interval), but now I’m down to 1 pound over. My waist is slightly thinner than it was pre-HRT, but that seems to be normal fluctuation. Where did the extra 1-3lbs go? We’ll get to that, LOL.

My waist measurement hasn’t changed, but anecdotally, I do think there’s changes going on there. The 43 inches measurement is still at my widest point, around my thighs (which have always been pretty good). Now, however, I’m noticing what seems to be some growth on areas that aren’t covered by the exact circle I’m using to measure that. My butt seems slightly bigger, although I could just be lying to myself. Time will tell.

Onto the stuff that has changed!

Mood. Oh my god mood. My resting state is no longer a crackling misery. I don’t think I was ever suicidal because of dysphoria alone, but I was certainly pushed to that point far, far easier when it was a contributing factor. I also just… didn’t enjoy anything about my body. When I was happy, it was a distraction. Now, it’s already much better. I still don’t like my body. I got a long way to go. But, I’m seeing progress, and it’s been incredible.

Emotions overall have been more intense. I’ve had a couple of downswings, and I get misty eyed easier. I haven’t had a proper cry yet, though. I get excited about things again, which was a COMPLETELY dead feeling. And I have also gotten angry at some things, which is also something I killed as a teenager because I was scared of where it took me. It hasn’t been as uncontrollable as I expected, however, and the negative emotions I’m experiencing more viscerally have been immensely cathartic. 

            And then, there's the big one. Hopefully that's literal. And that's breast growth. Almost immediately I noticed some kind of perking up, but no breast bud formation and no immediate growth. At about week 2, I was able to feel the distinct disks of breasts buds under my nipples, and my bust size started increasing. Now, at 4.5 weeks in, my bust size is 1.5 inches larger than it was pre-HRT.

           This is ludicrously fast. As in, so fast it has me questioning if I'm actually intersex or something. I think my E levels will be enlightening.

I really, REALLY don’t want to get too hopeful. But overall, if some of these trends continue… I’m gonna get a LOT curvier. Honestly, my ideal body would be pretty tight and trim… but I’m fucking estatic anyways. I’m just really, really hoping that the breast growth trend continues, and also that the tiny observations I’ve made about a bigger butt and thinner waist are actually real. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to boymode like this LMAO.

There’s also the opposite fear: if my estrogen levels are too high, it could signal the end of “puberty” too early. It’s looking like a possibility, but I gotta wait until next week for my levels check.

There’s one final set of observations I wanna put here, but y’all gotta not be weird about it LOL. I WILL block you and erase this part if you treat this as anything more than impartial observations about myself. Got it? Good. NSFW warning for the next bit.

I want to make some remarks on libido and erogenous sensitivity in general, because that has also been one of the most notable changes.

First off, I heard so many stories about HRT killing libido. Holy fuck, this has not been true for me. I’m going crazy sometimes LOL. I absolutely have a somewhat higher libido on average, but its already changed the way its expressed itself.

First off, my entire body is more sensitive to erogenous soft touch. The right kind of touch and care on my waist will feel very similar to more traditional erogenous zones. I’ve NEVER had this before, and was completely blindsided by it. I’m absolutely fascinated by what neural change caused that, but its really cool even if I don’t know the underlying explanation.

Second off, my libido spikes and hot flashes sometimes. I think this is pretty typical of anyone going under a hormonal change, and tbh I’m not surprised.

Third off is the weirdest one, and something that I’ve asked other transfemmes about, and none have been able to answer. My chest sensitivity seems to be going through very distinct mini-cycles, on the approximate span of time being one full “cycle” per week. Essentially, when I started HRT, my chest first got very sore, itchy, and sensitive to sources of pain and itchiness. It stayed like that for a few days, and then all sensitivity to the area cut out. My nipples pre-HRT were always more sensitive than other cis men, and in this phase, they were actually less sensitive than they were pre HRT. This lasted another couple of days… and then there was a period of massively increased erogenous sensitivity. Soft touches made me wild, and I started wearing  bra not for the support, but to block my shirt from rubbing against them and distracting me. Holy FUCK, this phase is insane. And then after that, they went back to sore again, and then dead again, and then erogenous again. Right now, I’m in the erogenous “phase” of what I think is the fourth cycle here since I started HRT. I have no fucking clue what’s going on. It’s not the period that some trans women report getting, its not a monthly thing. It might just be my body adjusting strangely to new hormones in general, but yeah. Its weird, bc it seems like a pretty unique thing. 

So yeah. That’s a journal thing. I had a LOT more thoughts about HRT starting beyond just the initial measurements, because so much hit me way faster than I thought it would, so I wanted to write something long form. I think I’m going to write something similar each month along with my measurements update, but I expect future writing to be much, much shorter. It’s been incredible so far, but I’m guessing less will be novel- I think things will only be different when I change aspects of my HRT regimen. We’ll see.

[c-schroed]

Podcasts I Adore - Re: Dracula or This Year, Our Friend Jonathan Has a Podcast!

"I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Memorandum: Get recipe for Mina.)"

I wanted to join "Dracula Daily" ever since I heard of it. To me, this is a stroke of genius; it's just the perfect approach to this book. I mean, not only is Bram Stoker's horror classic an epistolary novel with precise dates given for every journal entry or letter written by one of its protagonists, it also spans quite an ideal amount of time, i.e. roughly half a year. Long enogh to give it a feeling of something interesting and important slowly unraveling, short enough to not feel like too much of a commitment.

So yeah, I really wanted to join "Dracula Daily". Especially because I wanted to read the novel in English for years already (so far I've only read its German translation, because that's my native language). But, alas, I do not find the time so easily to add a book to my to do list, so I ended up not joining this lovely book club last year, fearing I'd miss out on most of the entries sooner or later.

Enter "Regarding Dracula". Right after seeing it for the very first time I knew this will be perfect for me. I already have a habit of listening to audio drama on my daily commute, and preferably in the form of fictional podcasts. So quite literally, @re-dracula had me at hello.

And gosh, they did not disappoint. Although I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed to find out that the format is more that of a classical audio drama, with voice actors speaking every line of their respective character. Originally, I was hoping for a more podcast-like approach, meaning that each actor speaks all of the text of a journal entry or letter, period. As if Jonathan would make a podcast instead of notes in his journal. I simply like it when audio fiction uses the possibilities of podcasts, and "Dracula" felt like something that could profit from this way of storytelling, too. So yes, I admit it: I was a bit disappointed. But not for long.

After hearing just a few sentences of Karim Kronfli as Dracula, I immediately understood the decision to breathe life into each character this way. I mean, I love Ben Galpin's work as Jonathan, but Dracula really, really profits from Kronfli's nonchalant but still breathtakingly powerful and confident take on this charakter.

And Mr. Kromfli is not the only one who makes a redefiningly marvellous job here. So far, all the voice actors go far out of their way to make me fall in love with each and every one of them: Ben Galpin's Jonathan is heartbreakingly relatable, Isabel Adomakoh Young's Mina is capable and charming beyond measure, and Beth Eyre's Lucy is just gorgeous. Yes. I'm in love.

In addition to all that talent of its cast, "Re: Dracula" also has a neat and absolutely on point score and sound design. And, just like the basic idea of "Dracula Daily", it really gives you a feeling of how time passes between the journal entries and letters. Haven't heard anything of Jonathen for a while? One does start to worry a bit. Lucy answering to Mina just two days after the Mina's letter? Wow, that was quick, I guess (not sure how quickly the postal service worked back then, though). Even if one has read "Dracula" again and again, I am sure this form of presentation can grant new insights!

So, if you, like me, are a more eager listener than reader, or if you happen to like close-to-perfection audio drama, then please give this a shot! I bet you, like me, will soon be finding yourself eagerly, yearningly awaiting the next bit of news from your good friend Jonathan, who hopefully soon returns from that terrible business trip of his. 9 out of 10 points.

[jesncin]

Honestly, you are like the most based person ever. A Martian Manhunter fan and a MAWS critic? F YEAH!

I'm so disappointed with MAWS' Lois :( Her romance with Clark could've been so good. SO GOOD. But they decided to go for fan service instead. She just gives off Lena (from cwsg) vibes and that's never a good thing.

Speaking of Supergirl, what's your opinion on the show? And on the show's portrait of J'onn. It baffles me how much hate the show got for the same things fans are willing to overlook now on MAWS. Aren't those some double standards, geez...

Aw shucks thank you! 2 incredibly niche but based things to be...

Sob! Call it the ace in me but whenever people think MAWS!Clois have chemistry because they're easily amused by seeing hot characters undress I lose life force. I didn't witness a couple that grew mutual respect and affection, I saw an insta-crush that led to Lois becoming so entitled to a guy she'd known for less than a week to the point of demanding full transparency of his private life before they even started dating. And then the narrative says it's Clark's fault for having reasonable boundaries, and then they're a couple. What is this.

I've briefly talked about CW Supergirl before, but my takeaway is: if people think MAWS is genuinely good writing then they should absolutely watch CW Supergirl because it must look like high art in comparison to MAWS. Maybe people are less judgy when something's animated and that's not fair. If we want to take animation as a serious medium we should hold it to the same standard and not coddle it. As someone who watched a few eps when CW Supergirl aired and then revisited and watched the whole thing years after the show concluded, I feel that the misogyny surrounding people's discourse around the show has led to people judging the show based on a fanon idea of it rather than its own merits.

more under the cut!

CW Supergirl is a show with great highs and lows. This results in things being hit or miss. But when something hits- CW Supergirl is not given nearly enough credit as it deserves. As a Martian Manhunter fan, I believe that their take on J'onn is the most competent and well adapted in not just adapted media, but all of comics canon. That doesn't mean I like everything they did with his lore and character, but I can acknowledge that they actually bothered developing him outside of the comics/cartoon's fixation with making him mope about his Origin Story all the time. He gets to find love, have adopted daughters through Kara and Alex, reckon with what it's like to preserve aspects of a culture he doesn't fully identify with, deal with his dad going through Martian Alzheimer's disease, and most importantly MAKE PEACE WITH HIS BROTHER. CW Supergirl has hands down, the best take on Ma'alefa'ak in all of canon.

I think Lena is a great character on the show. She's dealing with the trauma of being constantly manipulated by her own family, the legacy her name carries and who she is in all that. But because the supercorp ship permeates the way people perceive the show, she's reduced to that by discourse. When Lena has drama over Kara's secret Superhero identity, it's something that's built up to and informed by trauma, trust-issues, and TIME. We are shown that she has these problems. It gets melodramatic at times, but it's still something that was built up to. Meanwhile in MAWS Lois just tells us she has daddy issues and that it's why she really needs the cute guy at work to spill all his personal info to her even though she gets to lie to him for her own personal gain multiple times. I appreciate what CW Supergirl did to bring more attention to what was an obscure character. Whenever I bump into Lena in the comics, it hasn't stacked up to the character I met on the show.

I've called this out before but while CW Supergirl isn't perfect by any means especially with their treatment of Jimmy Olsen as a love interest to Kara and a generally sidelined Black supporting character, they still discussed and acknowledged Jimmy's identity as a Black American man! Sure it was heavy handed many times, but that's way better than MAWS straight up ignoring Jimmy's Blackness and even making an unintentional jab at it!! Like cw Supergirl Jimmy knows bigotry and has experienced it. MAWS Jimmy thinks bigotry is being ghosted for a camping trip. I have seen the exact same critics call out cw Supergirl for Jimmy's treatment while gleefully thinking Jimmy's treatment in MAWS is so uwu perfect. It makes me sick! Am I going insane?? It's the double standards for me.