#it reminded me of the mermaids and made me think of you

[squarebracket-trickster]

I think it is very important that every Writeblr have one irl friend who also is moots with them on tumblr even though they both are on tumblr for very different reasons. Occasionally my carefully curated dash will just have math on it.

I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to my Mathblr irl friend, and only my Mathblr irl friend, for the 20-something straight STS asks I reblogged. RIP your dash. Hope you can find all the math under there somewhere<3

The rest of you followed me for Writeblr content. I'm not sorry for what I've done.

[nothing0fnothing]

Most parents decide they're going to use their child's innate naivety and trusting nature to instill a sense of wonder. Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, mermaids are real, Disneyland. All that.

My parents used it to create an invisible panopticon that only existed in my mind so they could easily deny its existence if I reported it to anybody.

Basically, was told at a very young age, that there were tiny hidden cameras I couldn't see everywhere in my home, and in my clothes, and in my school. They gave my stepdad 24/7 round the clock acsess to view me whenever he wanted to. He said these cameras could not only record my face, voice and actions, but that they had special technology that could read and translate my very thoughts.

I was at the "mermaids and unicorns are real" age, so not only did all of this seem totally plausible, it terrified me. I was changing under the covers of my bed, worried he could see me on the toilet or in the shower, and worst of all I started monitoring and censoring my own thoughts, convinced he could hear every one of them.

My mum noticed I had started taking longer to get dressed and ready than I used to, and asked why I was wasting time trying to get dressed in bed. When I told her about the cameras she tried to convince me they weren't there, and even did a sweep of my room to prove it to me, but I didn't believe her. I thought my step dad had so much power he could even hide these mind reading micro cameras from other adults. She just kind of brushed it off, assuming this was some silly thing I'd be over in a week.

I wasn't.

He kept reminding me of them, so I continued to be scared of them.

The second time my mother heard of these invisible cameras were when another parent, concerned, told her about it.

See I'd been playing at her daughters house, and I was asking her to call my step dad to ask permission for every minor thing I did.

"Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed to play in the garden?" "Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed to watch TV?" "Can you call my dad and ask if I'm allowed ketchup on my chips?"

She would assure me she'd asked my mum and my mum said it was fine, but I was adamant it be my step father she call. Eventually, she asked me why I was so concerned about his permission to do these things I'd been doing fine every other time I'd been at her house.

"Because he's the one with the cameras."

I said it so naturally. Like every family had a parent who had the cameras and another who was under surveillance by them. I was worried that if I conveyed the frozen still fear I felt over these hidden cameras, it would seem that I had something to hide.

"There's no cameras in our house so you don't have to worry about it." She tried to convince me.

"Oh no, they're in my clothes" I said. "They're so tiny they could be in a zip or a button or on my shoe laces and nobody would know."

She was, understandably, freaked out by this.

I'm not sure if she beleived my step dad had just sent me bugged into her home like a pervert or something, but I think when I started talking about how it can hear my thoughts like a regular camera can record voices, she realised that this was something else.

My mum pretended that I'd made it up and was lying for attention, even though she knew I wasn't. She knew that her husband had been terrorising me with these fake omnipotent cameras for weeks to the point I was losing sleep and dreaming about them. It was just easier for her to paint me as some kind of freakishly and manipulative child. It was really messed up, this woman's daughter was my only friend, I'd be friendless and alone if she decided she didn't want her daughter learning this behaviour from me.

The last time it was brought up to her was by my aunt. I'd had a bonding day out with her that ended in me crying on her couch after dinner. I vented about the cameras and how much pressure they were putting on me. I said I felt scared to be out with anyone, because if my daddy was watching and he heard their thoughts and he didn't like them, he could stop them from ever seeing me again. I knew she didn't like him, and he didn't like her. All he needed was video proof that she thought bad things about him and he'd have the perfect excuse to cut her out of my life. I didn't want that, I loved my aunt dearly.

My mum tried to pull the same "oh she's just making it up for attention" bit, but my aunt knew my step dad, and she knew he was exactly crazy and twisted enough to torture me like that. She believed me over my mother, and after that I never heard about the cameras again.

Over the weeks I wasn't threatened with them, I slowly started to think about them less and less. And by the time I stopped thinking about them entirely, I'd stopped believing in tooth fairies and unicorns and high tech invisible cameras that could hear my thoughts.

I never forgot about them though.

[sorbetisfruity]

Guys Guys GUYSSS I have oh, Oh so many Thoughts right now.

Imagine:

Kiss the Girl scene with MC and TWST’s version of Ariel.

Rielle (his fan-given name) goes to Azul, saying he wants to become a human forever to stay with a human he’s fallen in love with!!

And who’s Azul to deny him?

He quickly finds out that the human he’s fallen for is NRA’s one and only magicless hero.

You!!

And, of course, Azuls not one to make a contract without getting something in return.

Especially when Rielle’s into the human he’s got a teeny tiny HUGEEEE crush on.

Soo, he makes him a deal.

If he can kiss MC within 3 days by sundown, he becomes human forever, and gets to keep his voice.

And if he can’t?

Azul keeps his voice, and him, forever.

Rielle makes the deal without thinking, throwing a scale he ripped off into the pot, allowing Azul to take his voice.

Azul sends him away after the transaction is complete, handing a shell-shaped locket to Jade and Floyd, who were giggling, knowing how this would go.

After hearing the very stupid deal Rielle made, his friends quickly came up with a plan.

You two would have a romantic boat ride, and kiss there!!

It was full proof-it HAD to be!

After all, nearly two days have already passed. They have no choice now.

What none of them accounted for was you-unintentionally-knowing everything.

———————————————————————

“Rielle? Where are ya takin me?” You laughed as he pulled you along, not saying a word to you.

It seems as if he was giving you the silent treatment these past few days, not saying a single word.

It struck you as weird, if you were honest. Rielle was always a chatterbox, constantly talking about things he’d find on the ocean floor and his adventures under water.

However, after talking to his friends, Flounder and Neige, you found out he had a big performance soon and was on vocal rest.

You didn’t believe them at first, as they stuttered nervously throughout their entire explanation. But you knew at least Neige would never lie to you.

Right?

The whole situation reminded you of the original Little Mermaid, with his lost voice and all. He hadn’t even went into the ocean lately, which he tends to do after school.

It all brought a feeling of unease upon you.

Though, you knew Rielle wasn’t in love with anybody, let alone you.

There was no way he made a deal with Azul…right?

Rielle looked back at you, a playful smile on his lips as he brought a finger up, silently shushing you.

You rolled your eyes as you giggled, continuing to let yourself be dragged around by him.

Once you two reached your destination, he pulled back a curtain of long, glowing vines, revealing a small wooden boat.

Your mouth dropped, immediately feeling your stomach start to swarm with butterflies.

Either you were going crazy, or this is playing out exactly as it did in the movie.

The missing voice, the way he’s been weirdly close to you these past two days, not going into the ocean…and now this!?!

You’re going to kick Azuls ass.

Rielle snapped you out of your trance, giving you a worried look.

“Ah, sorry! Don’t worry, I’m fine.” You nervously laughed it off, chewing on your bottom lip.

Rielle got into the boat first, testing the durability of it. Once he felt that it was fine, he reached his hand out to you softly, looking at you with eyes filled with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You blushed as you took his hand, allowing him to yank you into his hard chest.

He held you there for a moment. His other arm around your waist as he held your hand close to his heart.

You didn’t dare look up. You wouldn’t allow yourself to.

You gently pushed yourself away from his chest, clearing your throat.

“So..you took me out here in the middle of the night to take a boat ride, huh?” You smiled, giggling a bit.

He grabbed your hands once again, making you look up at him.

You regretted it almost immediately.

He looked undeniably gorgeous under the soft yellow lights of the fire flies around you. A dark red covered his cheeks, and even his ears! The color rivaled his hair. His mouth was slightly agape as he stared down at you, seemingly speechless.

He nodded quickly, letting go of you and pushing the boat off before you had time to sit, making you fall back.

“Damn, a warning would’ve been nice..” you said lightheartedly, rubbing your sore back as you looked down at the water.

Your eyes widened as you looked down, swearing you saw a green tail quickly swim past…

You felt Rielle grab your hands with his own, clearly looking apologetic.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!! I was joshin, don’t sweat it Rielle..” you reassured, feeling something bump the boat.

‘Shit…that’s gotta be Jade and Floyd!!’ you thought, biting your bottom lip again.

You looked at Rielle, seeing how his gaze was fixated on your lips. Your face flushed, suddenly feeling hot as you shuffled in your spot.

“Rielle, listen…” you trailed off, watching him snap up and meet your eyes.

“I know what’s happening to you. I know you’re cursed, and I know you have to…kiss me..to break it. I know everything, Rielle.”

You felt another bump under the boat, this one more aggressive than the last.

Rielle looked upset, distraught, concerned..he gripped your hands tighter as his mouth moved, but no sounds came out.

“It’s okay!!! It’s okay. I’m gonna get your voice back, don’t worry Rielle. But first…”

You practically ripped your hands away from his, standing on the boat as you struggled to find your balance.

“I’ve gotta grab something.”

You eyed one of the green, slippery tails that has been bumping into the boat, before grabbing onto it with a tight, firm grip, yanking up one of the tweels onto the boat.

“Shrimpy?” “Floyd! What the fuck?!”

“If you don’t go and get my friends voice back right now, so help me god I will-“

“Calmmmm dooooown Shrimpy! If you want this little mermaids-well, used to be little mermaids-voice back, you’re gonna have to kiss him!! Ooorrrrr, go hunt down Azul.”

“And we are not going to let that first option happen.” Jade chimed in, leaning against the boat now.

“Okay, first of all, I’m gonna hunt down Azul either way. I thought he was better than this but apparently he’s not-and YOU TWO aren’t either.”

“And you!” You turned to Rielle, “you sacrificed your mermaid powers for me?? WHY?! You can turn into a human anyways! There was no need to sacrifice that for me! I’m not worth sacrificing shit like THAT for! Let alone anything!!” You stressed, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, turning back to Jade and Floyd.

“Take me to Azul. Now. I’m gonna have a little..talk with his octopus ass.”

“Rielle, go back to RSA. I’ll come for you in the morning and let you know what happened, okay? Stay safe. Don’t make anymore stupid deals.” You leaned down to his height, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek before getting yanked away by Floyd.

“Awwww come onnnn Shrimpy!~ Do we get kisses nowwww?” Floyd whined, squeezing you tightly.

“No, you guys aren’t getting anything from me until Rielle gets his voice back. Now let’s go.” You spoke sternly, wiggling yourself out of his slimy embrace.

“Of course, come on, let’s head back to NRA.” Jade chimed in, turning back into his human form as Floyd did the same, knowing you couldn’t breathe under water like they can.

You gave one last look at Rielle, a look full of determination, before walking off with the twins, sighing as Floyd began to talk your ear off.

———————————————————————

Part two Mayhaps?

This scenario has been playing in my mind since the live action Little Mermaid came out btw, I just hadn’t decided to write it out until nowwwww!!

I doooo have a pretty sick idea for a part two where MC (aka YOUUUU) gets Rielles voice back, but I’d love to know if you guys would like a part two just in case!

Byeeeeee guyssss >:0)

[lina-lovebug]

New Years Kiss

Orm Marius x fem! reader

_

Orm Marius couldn't admit he liked you.

As the son of King Orvax, he was prideful, cunning, malicious and stubborn. He always knew he'd have to fight for his throne, and because of that reality, he's spiteful.

But he's also Atlannas' son. He never spent much time thinking of how they both cared to the brink of it hurting them, or how his love was displayed in actions whilst hers was in encouraging her son to do better with his newfound freedom. In looks, he is his mothers son, but his pride held onto him steadfast.

"(Y/N) is coming."

"(Y/N)?"

Arthur mused, "oh now someone's paying attention."

Orm said nothing but rolled his eyes. His elder brother, Arthur, had a habit of teasing him. Sure, he had grown used to it and had his own retorts, but it had only gotten worse since Arthur figured out that Orm has a crush.

On a human.

"She's hosting, so you better not fuck this up."

Orm sneered, "what are you talking about?"

"New Years Kiss, little bro!" He went to mess up his hair, but Orm dodged him, "when the clock strikes midnight, humans have a tradition of sharing a kiss," Mera explained to him whilst feeding Jr..

"I don't know why you're telling me this because I have no intentions of courting her-"

"When you sound like that, you don't," Arthur cut in, his voice loud even from the kitchen.

Orm is Atlantean, (Y/N) is human.

Logically, it would never work out.

So why even try?

But even as Orm would remind himself of such a glaring difference, the thought would vanish the moment he saw her. He had seen hundreds of Atlantean women in his time, even mermaids, but somehow they were dull in his eyes compared to her. She wasn't just different because she's human, but she genuinely cared about everyone around her. He first claimed she was strange for giving her food to the homeless, or how she was odd for asking the barista how her day was.

Because it's a pure act of innocence that he hadn't seen in a long time.

And its what drew him in even further.

Despite his claims, Orm still found himself picking off any piece of lint or fur on his clothing and made sure he smelt just like that candle she loved so much.

And a dash of that cologne that Arthur wears.

"Oh, he just keeps growing! Jr, I thought we talked about this. You need to stay cute forever," (Y/N) loved seeing Jr.. Her face lit up in joy anytime she saw the little prince, and Orm felt a pang of jealousy.

Then realized.

He's jealous of a toddler.

"Help yourself! The potato skins are almost done," You had done the most to avoid Orms intense gaze but with those eyes? It was nearly impossible.

"Orm, how was your Christmas?" You asked, a tad bit nervous as he came inside and took his shoes off. He was always respectful of your home.

"Arthur gave me a fish."

"Did you name it?"

He looked at you for a moment, ". . .his name is Triton."

His deadpan voice with that line made you smile, and you brought out a small box from your back.

"What's this?" He asked carefully, watching it in your hand.

"Well since I couldn't make it for Christmas, I thought you could have it today," you explained, a small feeling bubbling in your stomach. You saw it and immediately thought of him, but never saw Orm wear jewelry a day in his life.

"It's for me?" He felt his heart skip a beat as he took it carefully and unwrapped it. It was a small box and went it opened up, his pupils dilated at the gift inside.

"I know how it feels to not be able to go home," you explained as he pulled it out of the box, admiring it, "so I thought you'd like something that reminds you of it."

It's a ring with carefully carved ocean waves along the side. You could relate to Orm in that way - being exiled. Well, it wasn't exactly exile, but it was always one way or the highway with your parents.

Choosing your own happiness came with a cost.

"And it's stainless steel, so it won't tarnish in the water," I added nervously.

"It's beautiful," he finally spoke up, slipping it on his right hand. He met your gaze with a nervous smile, "you didn't have to-"

"(Y/N), I think the potato skins are burning!"

"Fuck!" You shouted, running to the kitchen. Orm admired the ring for a bit longer, enjoying the warmth it brought it him before joining the others.

The evening was quite eventful, to say the least.

Arthur ate half of the food all whilst sharing pictures of Jr., and then Mera had started to feel ill. You apologized if something was overcooked or undercooked, but Mera insisted she had been feeling off all day.

Leaving you and Orm.

Alone.

He sat on the couch like a stuff board, suddenly hyperaware of his own breathing and kept glancing at you across the couch.

"I-"

"What-"

You chuckled, "sorry. You first."

Orm said softly, "it is nothing of importance. Please."

"Want to see the fireworks? It's almost midnight," Orm hadn't heard much of them before being banished to the surface. Only that they were loud and he refused to go outside.

But for you?

He'd say yes.

Since it was cold outside, you grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around you before slipping on shark slippers.

"I'm sorry if this has been a rough New Years Eve. I'm usually a better cook than tonight," you apologized, "I've just been feeling weird lately."

"Is it a human sickness?" Orm questioned, still keeping a small distance from you, for fear his heart might burst from his chest.

You blushed lightly, taking a small step closer to him, "something like that."

"Well. . .I hope you feel better."

Dense as always.

You took the initiative to step closer to him, your hands keeping themselves on the railing of your porch. The wood creaked lightly, and Orm wanted nothing more than to hold your hands.

"Humans get cold easily, correct?" He knew this but wanted to sound dumber for this.

"Yeah, why?" You asked, looking up at him.

He said nothing else but gathered your hands in his, cupping them together. You faced him but looked down, completely sure your face was scarlet.

"Guess I should have worn gloves," you muttered.

"I like it better this way," Orm confessed, meeting your gaze in your own shock.

It's now or never, he thought.

"I hated your kind," what a fucking way to start, "and what you did to the ocean. I wanted to blame all of you, for surely no one was innocent. . .but I have never seen something so pure in their efforts. You are shameless with your kindness, and it used to befuddle me. Why would anyone do things without expectations? Nothing to return back?"

"Orm," you breathed out. Surely he wasn't going to say it? Surely the fucking Prince of Atlantis didn't fall for a land dweller?

"You're incredible," He confessed, a small smile teasing at his lips, "You're the best of your people, and. . .and I. . ." He felt like words couldn't describe what he felt.

So he led with action, and kissed you.

His lips were nothing like you'd imagined. They were soft, and supple against your own, which you were lucky enough to remember your strawberry chapstick today. You leaned further into the kiss, and one hand came up to cradle your cheek. He wanted to continue on, memorize your lips against his - the very euphoria it brought him.

But a loud bang separated you both.

The fireworks started, bright reds, greens, blues - all lighting up the sky. You leaned your head against his chest with a laugh, "that scared the shit out of me."

His arms wrapped around your frame, ensuring your warmth as the colors in the sky danced in his eyes.

"I was your New Years kiss," He said absent-mindedly, and you looked up at him.

"Did Arthur tell you to plan this?"

He chuckled, "oh no. He may be older but he's not that smart."

"You're so mean," you playfully smacked his chest.

"But never to you," He planted a loving kiss on your forehead, silently thanking his brother for having Mera fake her illness so that he could do this.

I'm a fucking dumbass. I wrote this but passed out at 1am 🤦‍♀️

[swarvey]

Can I ask for reactions to Farmer having real bad, MASSIVE, resting bit@% face. please 🙏

I don't care who you do it for, have fun with it. :3

when you have a resting bitch face | shane, haley (separate!) x gn!reader

summary -> your resting face has never been . . . the kindest, to say the least. it couldn't matter less to them, of course. warnings -> none! wc -> 502

a/n: this request is so funny and real i love it. i decided to do it with those who i headcanon to also have resting bitch faces. enjoy!! <3

shane

"fuckin' hell — what's up with them?"

as someone who also typically does not look the friendliest, shane feels like he has the right to judge

he's barely phased tho, thinks it's hilarious watching you go around town handing people gifts with such a stoic face

it all changes, tho, the day he sees you smile

he doesn't recall what made you laugh, only remembers thinking he wished it was because of him, bc damn

any thoughts he had about your resting face are gone

now, he only cares about being the one to break it

not that he'll ever admit it, ofc

(at least, not until you and him have matching mermaid's pendants)

it starts off with awkward small talk, as stuff typically does

"hey." | "um, hey." | "..." | "... do you need something?" | "no! no. nothing." | "okay." | "okay."

no one told him talking was hard, okay?

(the chickens usually think he's pretty funny, he swears)

something he said to you must have been right, tho, bc one day, he's on the way to joja and is stopped by you

and you have a container in your hands. for him. of pepper poppers.

"i heard you liked these ... so i decided to try and make them."

your typically hostile exterior is gone, replaced with ... is that embarrassment in your eyes??

he can't say shit, tho, he can feel a flush of heat creeping up his neck

"oh, uh, thanks, i guess. i mean, these are my favorite, so, yeah. thanks."

he wants to crawl away into a hole for the rest of his life.

his antics are rewarded nonetheless, seeing that he made you laugh for the first time

(which, in turn, gives him the chance to make you laugh for the rest of his life)

haley

"why is the new farmer looking at me like that? do they have a problem or something?"

definitely takes offense to it at first, disregarding her own major rbf

thinks you have something against her personally until emily reassures her it's just your resting face

she'll scoff and think it's stupid at first

but then she goes into the bathroom, looks into the mirror, and pretty much shrieks, scaring the hell out of her sister

"what, what?!" | "i have it, too!" | "have what?" | "the resting face! the one the farmer has!"

(emily reminds herself of inner peace before shutting the bathroom door and walking away)

after her monumental realization, haley is more understanding of you and decides to try and get to know you better

very pleasantly surprised to find your exterior doesn't match how you truly are

and when she finds a sunflower on her doorstep, along with a short letter written to her?

she's smitten.

haley's used to getting what she wants, and it's no different with you

"hey. you gave me this, right?" | "the sunflower? yeah, i heard you liked them..." | "so, wanna go on a date?" | "huh?!"

the rest is history

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (8) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous part / next part

prequel

4.6k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, manipulation of someone's feelings, drinking away problems, mental illness, mentions of suicidal ideations, savior complex Finnick and reader, codependent relationship, allusions to trafficking and forced sexualization of body, mentions of death/violence happening to children, unedited, no use of y/n, arguments, self-hate, self-doubt, a love triangle that really isn't a love triangle

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh, you look so beautiful." Cambrie was crying, actually crying. Standing behind you in the mirror, staring the the gorgeous dress she'd designed. You wanted to cry too because even if she'd always treated you more like a doll than a living, breathing person it did hurt to know you'd never see her familiar presence again. 

“You did an amazing job, Cambrie, it reminds me of home." Truthfully the dresses shimmery deep blue did make you think of the waters of home and the seaweed and pearl based jewelry was a nice touch. Of course it was a too low cut for your liking and regardless of the colors would be completely translucent if the light hit it right, it was stunning.

“You really think so?" Her eyes were full of tears and you nodded your head turning to hug her.

“Yes, thank you." It pained you too think about how even if she never treated you fully human she would still be deeply hurt by your death. Her favorite muse.

“I don't know who I'm going to model my designs off of anymore, unless you come back or course, but you make it so easy." Of course she had ulterior motives, but it was somewhat amusing to hear her problems when yours were so much more lethal. She pulled away from you, “I wanted to go more bridal, but President Snow wanted Katniss wearing her wedding dress, so we're going to go for the more subtle route.”

It wasn't subtle in the slightest, a similarly shimmering, translucent veil was in your hair although not covering your face and adorned with sea thrift. Your arms had bouquet-like bracelets of yarrow, lavender, and sea oats from your shoulders down to your wrists. Then there were the sandals covered in pearls and seashells, if it hadn't been purposefully forced to be more sensual you would have genuinely loved it. More of a “natural" makeup look had been preferred to create the essence of more of a sweet mermaid than a sultry, seductive siren.

Suddenly you could feel the tears threatening to pour over, “I wish you would have been able to just design my wedding dress with normal circumstances. Thank you for this.” 

"Oh you're such a sweetheart, I can't fathom how they could do this again to such a sweet girl. Everyone loves you, there's so much outrage. You'll certainly have lots of sponsors.” She cupped your face, shaking her head sadly. "We'd best be on our way.” She sighed, leading you out of the room for the last time.

There all the tributes stood waiting in their line, Katniss was already waiting in her wedding gown. She caught you staring at the dress, "Snow made me wear it.” 

"Make him pay for it.” Johanna remarked ok the side, in another one of the tree related get ups her designer has such an attachment too. She looked you up and down,"Even in death they just can't leave you alone?” It was true, you were basically naked if people were staring at the way the colors caught the light.

“Just making sure to squeeze out every last drop before I go." One last glance at the body they'd controlled before you took it back forever. Johanna scoffed.

“Make him pay for that too." You took your place in the line next to Finnick, whose shirt was heavily unbuttoned.

“Is this our own wedding get-up?" He asked, arm sliding around your waist. You hummed a yes as you pecked at his lips.

“Do you like it?" You asked, hand playing with his sleeve.

“You look stunning. Do you like it, would it be your top contender when I finally get you that real dress?" He asked, a loving grin adorning his face. 

“Maybe, if it wasn't so see-through. Reminds me of home though.” Finnick nodded in agreement.

“Look like you came straight from the moonlit waters, angel." You rested into his warm arms which were a godsend when the fabric did even less to protect you from the chill in the air. Cashmere and Gloss both proclaimed how difficult it would be to let go of their friends from the Capitol. How they were all like brothers and sisters to them, trying to further manipulate the audience's feelings into somehow getting them to prevent the games. Snow would never let that happen, but taking a shot at it couldn't hurt. Enobaria and Brutus both acted like it was a normal game, with just as much intensity as they had the first round. Wiress was rambling on and on, sometimes coherently, but the audience simply laughed like it were some huge joke about how unstable she was. Beetee’s rationalization took hold, talking about all he had done, all he'd offered to the Capitol, and questioned how legal this type of Quarter Quell was, couldn't it just be unwritten since it would have such a negative effect? Finnick rubbed circles on your arm as you nervously tapped your foot. “You've got this, my love." He reassured you as you were lead to wait off stage.

“Our very own Capitol Princess!” Caesar Flickerman’s voice blared and you put on your most charming smile to enter as he said your name. Waving at the audience, blowing kisses. The cheering soon calmed down and he turned to look at you, “Now, I think we're all a little bit upset with you and your husband. Aren't we?" The audience gave out enthusiastics agreements. 

“I'm sorry!" You giggled, breathily. “We didn't want to take away attention from the star-crossed lovers."

“Oh we have enough love for the both of you!" The audience cheered in agreement.

You looked out at the crowd, “And we love you! It breaks my heart to know we won't get to share our journey with you." The tears that wanted to spill about other things you willed to appear now.

“So a secret marriage? How did that come about?" Caesar asked after the ooh’s and aww’s had quieted.

“We just knew that if we were going to die in the arena, we needed to be one with each other, and the waters." The first tears began to roll, “Now that we know we can't ever again have those moments. Especially to share them all with you." You could vaguely see tears on obscured faces and you knew it was working. "We'd been quietly planning how we'd get engaged in front of all of you, but when the Quarter Quell announcement came it just couldn't wait. So now we can't do the dress, and the wedding, and the house decorating, and the kids with all of you.” Wiping away the tears falling down.

"We'll certainly mourn that just as much, won't we?” The crowd boomed with agreement and cries. "One more thing, last time you were here you were also going into the arena with a romance, now it's happening all over again, does that add to the emotions we’re feeling tonight? The idea that if you win you'll have lost another love?”

Your tears glistened under the lights as you nodded, "All I have to say about that Caesar is that I have no intentions of leaving that arena if I can't be with him. We are one and I couldn't bear to live my life without knowing I'd see him everyday. This hurts so bad because I know it'll be my last time seeing all of your kind faces.” By now the audience was sobbing and suddenly the tears began feeling real, creeping up on you.

Caesar nodded solemnly, “And we'll be sorry to see you go. Ever romantic, our Capitol Princess!" Tears were blinding you and it was difficult to find your way to the pedestals where the other tributes were standing. Suddenly your face was being held and honey tasting lips were on yours, Finnick. You could hear the audience cooing and crying, he wiped the tears once he pulled away and led you to where you needed to stand.

"Sorry, Ceaser I couldn't help myself." His warm voice filled the room, his gorgeous smile being zoomed in on by the cameras.

“Oh no worries! Making ever the entrance, Capitol darling Finnick Odair!" The audience let out a resounding cheer for him. “Finnick, can I be honest?"

“Of course, Caesar." That gorgeous, sunshine smile rested on his face and it was no wonder it left the Capitol citizens swooning for more.

“I don't know what we're going to do if you don't come back. Right?” The audience loudly agreed and Finnick chuckled. "I mean you've been such a favorite, both of you have, and the world will not be the same without it.” How ironic, if it would be so painful then they really should make more of an effort to put a stop to it, but they wouldn't.

"I'm very sorry about that Ceaser, but my hands are tied. If we could, we would spend every moment with all of you, we're so grateful for your love.” A bold-faced lie, every party to keep up appearances, each call from the Capitol was far more draining then just spending a peaceful day together which could be endless.

“We wish you could too. Being married in the arena, how's that going to work? I mean we've heard from her that there's no grand plan for her to come back, but I assume as the husband you might have something to say about that?" This elicited a laugh from the audience and Finnick nodded.

“Well certainly, Caesar, what kind of husband would I be if I let her have her way in that? I will say, my love, you have my heart for all eternity, and if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” You were sick, honestly nauseated with grief. This was so unfair, you'd tried not to think about it, but in just over 12 hours you'd be forced back into the arena and risk losing each other.

"We wish you the best luck with that." People were weeping in the audience and Finnick's face had become so sober that it was jarring how naturally it fell back into an easy smile. “That's Finnick Odair, Capitol darling." Soon he was right beside you on the podium, kissing you again for the audience to be giddy with joy, but also hearts ruptured for the lovers torn apart for only the first time of the night. You could taste your salty tears mixing with the honeycomb of his lips before he pulled away, giving another grin to the audience.

His hand stayed intertwined with yours, but something wasn't quite right about his demeanor. Even if physically he kept up the same presence as always you could feel the shift in his aura, in his touch. He was upset, but not in the way you were. You couldn't stop yourself from continually glancing over at him, silently trying to get his attention so you could see what was wrong. Squeezing his hand with yours to try and get a response when he finally did meet your eyes it hit you that the look was disappointment, dread and when you shot a quizzical look back he looked like he was going to cry as he put his focus back on the stage.

You were stuck in your own head no, had it been something you said? Did? It was all for the performance which he had to know. Your foot was tapping and you were zoning out of the interviews until all the sudden the audience was shrieking. Katniss’ wedding dress disappeared in clouds of black smoke and when they disappeared the dress had transformed. Upon lifting her arms you could see what it was, a mockingjay. A public symbol of the rebellion, Caesar was trying to cover, but the cameras already would have caught it.

One more interview before the night would be over and you'd wait to be shipped back off to the arena where certain death awaited you. Charming Peeta insisted that he and Katniss too had a secret wedding to have the traditions of District 12. The audience ate each crumb he gave right out of his hands when suddenly he made the world stop, “If it weren't for the baby." Shock, outrage filled the room. All of these people who'd been fine watching children fight to the death and suffer after they won for personal entertainment couldn't stand the fact that Katniss could be pregnant. The irony of it all, how smart Peeta had been on his feet made it hard for you to suppress the smile. As Caesar desperately tried to do damage control once again you noticed how everyone of the tribute's hands began linking, placing your free hand in Beetee’s who bobbed his head before holding Wiress’. Hands joined, you lifted them above your head increasing the audience's screams and Caesar was yelling for lights to be turned off, all this did was illuminate your figures in the low lights. 

Then you were being filed off of the pedestals and to the hallway. You instantly met eyes with Haymitch, holding some glass filled with some type of drink. You didn't say a word to him before taking it from his hand to take a drink. 

“Dealing with pre-game jitters with alcohol really seems like a great idea." He said sardonically, scoffing. He didn't try and grab the drink back though even when you scowled at him. Right when you'd taken another drink of the bubbly liquid it was Finnick who took the drink from your hand, handing it back to Haymitch. "What? Trouble in paradise?” He took a drink too.

“Just need you to be rational instead of hungover in the morning.” Finnick muttered, he was angry at something, that much was obvious. 

Haymitch took something off of his wrist and handed it to Finnick, “Show her this and she'll realize I gave it to you, since she won't ally with you of her own accord." It was a gold bangle and Finnick nodded as he slid it on his wrist. They were whispering something to each other and you pulled away to an Avox holding a tray of more bubbly drinks nearby. Grabbing one you nodded a thank you, swallowing it down as fast as you could before Finnick had grabbed it again, looking at you sternly.

“I'm not going to be hungover.” You rolled your eyes and he handed the second, nearly empty glass to Haymitch as well.

"Well you don't exactly make great decisions for yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him as he ran his fingers through his curls.

"What's your problem? I made them sympathetic, I did what I was supposed to!” You couldn't fathom why that would upset him, it was a performance and he did the same thing.

"You have a death wish, that's the problem, I'm not letting you die for me!” You stared into his gorgeous sea-green eyes and scoffed before turning around to walk straight back to your floor.

"Thank you, Haymitch.” You heard Finnick say before he was following you to the elevator.

"You're really gonna argue with me about what I said in the interview right before we head back into the arena?" You pressed the cold buttons before crossing your arms, refusing to look at him.

“When this started I begged you to talk to me, to stop punishing yourself for whatever you did six years ago to survive, but you still are. You didn't say anything until right before we headed back into the arena, informing the world all about how you plan to die in there.” The elevator opened and he stepped in as you followed.

“I don't plan too, I just expect it. I'm not going to keep going if you die."

“Yes, you are, Annie needs you, Mags needs you." He pointed to the bangle quickly to put off anyone who could be listening in, “Needs you. This insistence that you're going to die is ridiculous, angel, I'm not going to let you.”

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You stood backstage with Conway, having to consciously force your leg to stay still, to not keep tapping as you waited to do on stage. The air was chilly which wasn't helped by the thin material of your dress, it's low-cut, or the huge slit in it's side at least Conway got to be in a suit. Your eyes were glued to the screen where the male tribute from District 3 had just begun his interview.

“Now, how old are you?" Caesar asked, the boy was small, he couldn't be that old, it looked like the seat was going to swallow him whole.

“Thirteen." His voice was shaky and your ears started ringing. How were you supposed to do this, that was a child, a tiny kid whose family was sitting back home watching their baby boy be shipped off to certain death. You could feel the tears approaching and your breathing getting more shallow. Cold hands were suddenly on yours.

“Are you okay?" Conway asked, as you began to hyperventilate.

“I can't do this." You whispered out as the first tears began falling, “That's a little boy, I can't-"

“I get it." Conway reassured, his big, brown eyes trying to comfort you. “You've got this though, you can't do anything about him being here, but you can make a good impression with the audience. We have to focus on that no matter how screwed up you feel like it is. Go up there and do what you have to do.” What you have to do, charm them, be sweet, and pretty, but a little mysterious. Finnick had all types of angles for you. You gave a final look back at Conway who tried to give a reassuring smile, but you could tell he was bothered too. Caesar's booming voice called your name and you stepped out into the bright lights of the stage. Beaming for the audience, waving, giggling at their cheers.

“I have to say, everyone was blown away with how charming you seemed at the tribute parade, but then that training score came out. How did you do that?" Caesar asked as the two of you sat down, the audience murmuring in agreement. 

“Well, Caesar, a lady has to have some secrets for herself." You made your laugh airy and winked at the laughing audience. “I have to save some things for the show, don't I?"

Caesar nodded, laughing along. "Of course! You know when I saw your face at the reaping I couldn't help but feel like I recognized you from somewhere, did anyone else feel that way?” The audience cheered out agreements and your stomach knotted. What was he talking about? You certainly didn't know how they knew you. "I mean this was literally keeping me up at night.”

You leaned forward, the dress putting a little too much on display, but you persisted. "Well do tell.”

"Months ago we were doing a catch up piece of Finnick Odair and you were in some of it, very briefly, but you were.” The audience was wild, they adored Finnick and loved any type of connection. Your stomach clenched, how were you supposed to seem in love with Conway when this was being chosen for you.

You blushed, “Oh yes, Caesar! I didn't imagine anyone would remember that!" 

"Well we did and we love it!” He proclaimed and the audience agreed. "So tell me, just between us-” The audience laughed and you did too. "Are you and a certain victor pining for your return to tell us all some very exciting news?” You shook your head slowly, trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt. “No? I don't believe that, look at you, charming and obviously extremely talented. There was definitely something going on when that program came out, not anymore?" Time was running out and this was not going the way you planned.

So new plan, “No, Ceasar.” Your voice was light and sounded shaky on purpose. You shook your head.

"Oh, so this is a tale of heartbreak?” He asked and the audience cooed. "Well if you win, he'll have to take you back won't he? I'm sure we won't let up until he does!” He laughed and the crowd seemed to agree with him. 

“I'm afraid it's much more complicated than that." You smoothed out your dress even if it needed no smoothing.

"Oh! Is there another man as well, we live for the drama!” You nodded slowly.

"Yes and I'm afraid winning won't help me in either case.” You were alluding and there was only a few seconds left. Caesar stood up.

"Well now you have to win this thing, so we can all know about this tale of romance. It's going to be keeping me on the edge of my seat!" 

“And I'd love to share it with all of you." You let a few tears fall as you blew a kiss out to the audience who adored it. The two of you bowed as you walked off the stage. Heart pounding rapidly as you were escorted out to the hall where Finnick, Ondine, and your designer Cambrie stood.

“Oh you looked divine!" Cambrie announced, hands on your shoulders. “All of my friends are going to want to sponsor you, I'm certain you'll be the talk of Panem, leaving us on a cliffhanger like that!" She was basically shrieking in joy when she got distracted by some hors d'oeuvres an Avox was holding.

You buried your head in your hands as Finnick approached, “I didn't know they were going to side swipe you like that. It could be good for your image though." You were now hyper aware of the eyes on the both of you even if technically he was your mentor just giving you advice.

“Could be bad for that, unless he picked up what I was putting down." You pointed at the screen where Conway sat with Caesar.

“So Conway, I'm sure all of us were very impressed by your training score, a big, strong man like you, what's your strategy?" Caesar asked and the audience made comments under their breath, acting as if they were also part of the conversation. 

“Let's just say I know what I'm up against and am confident in the people I've decided to trust." Looking at him made you see flashes of your childhood, of him crabbing with your family as kids, hair billowing in the wind as he made sure you didn't slip on the water covering the boat’s deck.

Caesar nodded, “Well alright, making us wait for tomorrow as well?"

Conway smiled that kind, loving smile he gave everyone, “I guess you could say that.”

"Now everyone is dying to know if you have a special girl back home, I mean you’re a good looking guy and even girls in the Capitol are swooning.”

"Well, it's a lot more complicated than that, Caesar.” Conway and his boyish charm was sure to bring in more sponsors as well. Caesar took a second, looking at Conway and the audience with as much drama as he could, like he was slowly connecting the dots.

“You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" He asked and the crowd screamed in agreement, eating it up.

Conway adjusted his shirt collar, “Regretfully, I might be."

“Well isn't this straight out of a fairytale." A dark, corrupted one if that. “That sure complicates things doesn't it?"

Conway nodded, “Yes."

“You're certainly going to be keeping all of us on our toes, a love triangle. Well I certainly wish you the best of luck in your endeavors." Caesar laughed. What luck? Only one ‘choice’ would be alive if you won.

“Thank you, Caesar. All I can say is even if it's doomed, hopefully she doesn't pick the one who already broke her heart.” Even if it wasn't meant that way to you it felt threatening, hopefully you didn't or he'd be forced to kill you? You honestly had no idea what the best outcome was, maybe him asking you to take care of his family before sacrificing himself? But now you were overtly aware that you not only had him observing you, but all of Panem desperately wanting to know where you would land. 

            𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were laying on the bed, hands covering your face as Finnick went on and on about how self-destructive you were. Maybe he was right, but you didn't see why it mattered. It's not like you were going to do anything intentional, you'd just do what you could to get Katniss out of the arena alive and be with Finnick.

“How are we supposed to do this if you don't believe you can survive?” He was pacing the room,"The moment that gong rings you need to come find me, I need my eyes on you.”

"I will, Finnick! But you need to focus on other things too.” You defended, sighing.

"How am I supposed to do that when the person I love the most is a danger to herself?” He stopped moving for a moment to stare at you, even with your face hidden in your hands you could feel his eyes burning into you.

You finally moved your hands,"I'm not! I just want to go to sleep, Finnick, can't we just rest?"

“We can sleep when I can rest well knowing you're not going to make impulsive decisions or give up if I get hurt. Don't be dependent on my life, angel, you deserve to live." You stood up only to walk to the open bathroom door and begin removing your makeup. 

“I don't know what you want me to say, Finnick." He followed you and stood behind you watching you in the mirror. You were passive to his pleas, you couldn't understand why it mattered so much to him. If he died it's not like he would know if you did too and if he lived there were plenty of other women who would be glad to comfort him, plus the revolution would keep him distracted.

There was a pause as you continued with your routine before he removed the bottle from your hands and turned you to face him, he'd always been much stronger than you and there was no use trying to release yourself. 

“That your life matters to you just as much as it does to me and I want you to believe it when you say it."

You sighed, “Finnick I will do whatever you tell me to do, I'll stay right by your side if you want me too. All I want is to be with you, that's all that matters to me."

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, “I can't believe I let us get so codependent." You watched a tear make its way down his cheek and felt you swarmed with guilt. “I can't make this better overnight no matter how badly I want to, but I do want you by me every second in that arena. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for someone, anyone. Angel, I can't live without you either.” His warm arms brought you to him, caught in his embrace as the guilt overwhelmed the numbness. "We're both getting out of there alive, no matter what it takes.” He whispered and although your brain told you not to believe him, to accept your fate you would trust him to the grave so you nodded your head into his shoulder. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading and all the support I've been receiving, I love you all so much and am glad you're enjoying my little thoughts. next chapter we can finally get into the games of it all, not gonna like this chapter was a lot of fun to write but took forever because I was having too many thoughts. if you enjoyed it feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated. my inbox is always open! I love you all, thank you again! 💋

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[amournoir]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬

pairing: sarah cameron x f!reader

count: 3.3k

warning: smut [boob play, licking, sucking, oral receiving & giving, face riding, fisting, language?]

author’s note: your girl is in a mood so you get to be in it too. 🤭 this is my very first fxf so please bear with me & let me know what you think about it, i hope you enjoy it! 😌 quick reminder that this is 21+

You had come home early that day due to swim class being canceled which was a bummer since you loved it so much, your mother often joked you were half mermaid. Your parents had said they needed to talk to you later but since no one was home, you went over to your best friend’s house to pass time. Grabbing your bike, you hopped on it and pedaled to her house, parked it right in their front yard and dashed up the porch. 

You didn’t bother knocking, you just twisted the knob and invited yourself in. Her brother, Rafe, was sitting in the living room watching some show but at the sight of you, he yelled your name to his sister…per usual. You smiled and walked over to him, ruffling his hair a bit then skipped away to the stairs. You heard his chuckle before he was out of sight. 

You found Sarah sitting in front of her makeup table in her bikini. She was taking off her earrings and necklace slowly. You surprised her by running in and instantly jumping onto her bed. She shrieked as if you hadn’t been doing this every single time you came over so you laughed as always. 

“Fucks sake Y/N! Can’t you knock?” She asked, her hand clutching her chest. 

You beamed widely, “Yeah but it’s more fun hearing you scream.” 

“One of these days I’ll actually have a heart attack.” 

“Ooh can you? I need to put my CPR training to good use.” You asked with a grin. 

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I hate you.” 

“You’re not capable of it.” 

“Ugh just come help me.” 

“With what?” You lifted yourself up and propped yourself on your elbows. 

“My necklace is tangled with my bikini straps.” 

“Hmm I thought you said you hated me.” You wondered out loud. 

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

She sighed and tugged on a tight strap but nothing happened. She tried again harder and this time, her necklace broke free but so did her entire top. You had been watching her the entire time but her back was to you, she wasn’t aware yet. You saw the reflection of her body on the mirror in front of her, you saw her huge boobs and nipples. You wanted to tear your eyes away but you couldn’t possibly. It took her longer than a minute to realize it and that’s when she quickly covered her chest. 

You pushed yourself off the bed and walked over towards her, standing right behind. Neither of you said a word so you just offered a smile instead. She couldn’t meet your eyes, you could see how nervous and embarrassed she was but there was no need to be. Both of you were girls, both of you had breasts so nothing was weird as far as you were concerned. 

“It’s okay, you know.” 

She kept her eyes down, “What is?” 

“You don’t need to hide it, it was an accident. No big deal.” 

She sighed and looked up at you through the mirror then smiled, “You promise?” 

You stuck your pinky out to her, “Pinky promise.” 

One of her hands reached out and linked your pinkies together. You suddenly had the urge to see it again, this time up close. So with your eyes fixated on hers, you placed both of your hands on her shoulders then lowered them to her chest. You stopped to see her reaction but she didn’t do a thing, only watched you. You continued on until you reached her bikini top which you carefully pushed down until it fell on her lap and now she was bare chested again. 

Your hands came back up and slowly kneaded her breasts, both at the same time then alternated. Your fingers traced her nipples which made her let out a very faint moan so you flicked her nipple and again, she made the same sound. You liked it. You liked hearing her moan and you liked how huge her boobs were. You kept toying with them, rolling them around, pinching and squeezing as she kept moaning. You stopped and her eyes shot open and stared at you. She turned around in her seat then stood up and fully faced you. 

Biting her bottom lip, she reached out to you and you let her. You didn’t know where this was going but you knew you didn’t want to stop it. Sarah didn’t reach out to kiss you, much to your surprising dismay, she reached for your top. You stood there as she lifted it up to reveal your black lace bra cupping your slightly larger boobs. She didn’t even bother unclasping it, she just pulled your breasts out one by one then bounced them in her hands as if checking their weight. 

Her eyes were fully fixed on your chest as her hands switched from soft massages to roughly squeezing you. A moan escaped you and that made her eyes flicker up to yours. Whilst holding that eye contact, she lowered herself and pressed a soft kiss between your boobs then on top of each one. You threw your head back so she kissed them again and again until she was licking them. You slowly pulled her up and held her hands as you led her to the bed where you laid down on your back and pulled her on top. 

With a smile, she tucked your hair behind your ear then leaned down and kissed your cheek. Your neck was next then her lips trailed back down to your boobs. She started with a few kitten-like licks then moved to sucking. You closed your eyes and relished the experience as your hands found their way to her hair where you tugged her head up. She lifted her head and looked at you then down at your lips, before you knew it, her lips were on yours. Your tongues explored each other, she was fully sucking you. You placed a hand on the back of her head to pull her closer and she placed hers on your neck which turned you the fuck on. 

Your make out session was hot and heavy in every which way, from grinding to sucking, you both couldn’t stop. Once it did end, the dry humping began. Sarah was on top slowly grinding her hips against yours to find some sort of release. You had placed your hands on her ass, pushing the bikini bottom between her cheeks. Your hands squeezed and dug into her ass, making her grind harder. Momentarily you stopped her and lifted your hips, removing your shorts and underwear in one go. 

Sarah stared at your bare cunt in awe, fully mesmerized. You smiled and ran your fingers between your folds, separating them as you gathered the wetness. You lifted your soaked fingers in front of her face and she opened her mouth instantly, her lips wrapping around you. She sucked and licked your fingers clean, even between the crevices. Such a hot dirty girl, you thought to yourself. You suddenly had a brilliant idea. 

“Can I taste you too?” 

“Only if I get to go down on you too.” She said with a smile. 

“Turn around and sit on my face.” 

Her eyes grew wide, “Wait I can ride you?” 

“Yeah, is it okay?” 

“I’ve always wanted to see you naked so this is a dream Y/N!” She exclaimed and immediately got herself into position. 

Sarah spread your legs apart for her personal viewing then kissed your inner thighs. Her ass was above your head, careful not to fall on you. Her fingers wandered around your outer area then inched their way closer until she reached your cunt. Without warning, she inserted two fingers inside your pussy very slowly then leaned down forward. 

She looked back to you and said, “You're so wet and pink.” 

You moaned in response instead and this made her wonder out loud, “How many fingers do you think I can fit?” 

“I don’t know, four?” You guessed. 

“Four?! Such a slut but I like it, let’s try.” So she did. 

Her lips kissed your cunt then she lowered her head even closer and licked your pussy. Your body naturally jolted and you moaned. Once she knew what made you react, she would repeat the action again and again. Her licks turned to full on sucking and her fingers pushed in and out, each time adding a new one. Four fingers in and you still wanted more. Out of nowhere, she spit on your pussy and pushed the saliva inside. 

Gone were your soft moans, now you were audibly groaning and rocking your hips to increase your release. Thank goodness everyone was out of the house. Her little sister was at some camp, her stepmom was on the mainland shopping all day, her dad was at his workplace, and you had heard her brother leaving minutes after you got there with his club friends. So you could moan as loud as you’d like, no one was around and the thought of that turned you on even more. 

You weren’t the only one turned on. Your moans and groans had gotten to Sarah so much that she was quite literally dripping. You felt it once but didn’t realize it until now, you thought it was sweat from you. Turns out, she had been getting off at the sight of you. To prove your theory, you reached one hand up to slide her bikini bottom aside and revealed her soaking cunt. Sarah gasped and slightly jumped at the contact of cold air. Your other hand came up to gather her wetness on your fingers and sucked it. Salty and smooth, you mentally concurred. 

“You get off by watching me Sarah?” You asked an obvious question but you just wanted her answer. 

“Who wouldn’t? My entire fist is in your squishy soft pussy and yet you’re still wet.” She replied. 

“You’re fisting me??” You hadn’t even noticed. 

“You’re so hot that way baby.” She cooed. 

“Fuck me deeper with your hand babe, I wanna cum.” I was so ready to beg. 

“Mmm you’re such a pretty girl Y/N.” She praises, “If only you could see how slutty you look with a fist in you. I’ll make you cum baby.” 

The thought was sending you to places further than you’d imagined. Sarah, your childhood best friend was naked on top of you with her ass in your face and her hand— fist, in your pussy. You now wanted to see it. A picture, video, anything to relive this after it was done. But it wasn’t, not yet because you hadn’t started. 

As your friend stuck her fist deeper into you and pushed in and out whilst sucking your clit, you lowered her ass closer to your face. Her cunt was now on your lips, you licked once then twice, each time Sarah moaned and pushed down. You could tell she wanted to ride your face and you wanted her to but not until you were fully satisfied. You used your fingers to spread her folds open then spit up inside and used your middle finger to push it in. You moved your head around to get a more comfortable position then spread your legs further apart as she kept going. 

Both of you were now eating each other out. You slapped her ass and motorboated her pussy, your tongue deep inside. This went on for a few minutes but you weren’t getting what you wanted so with a smirk, you slapped her cunt with your free hand. It hit you before you even realized it, she had squirted into your mouth which dripped down your chin. Her body convulsed as she placed her free hand onto the bed for support. She rocked her hips harshly against your mouth. 

“I want you to eat it all.” She said as she grinded harder on your face. 

“Yes Sarah, please give it to me.” 

She fully sat on your face then lifted herself up then sat down again. “Do you like that Y/N? Do you like me suffocating you?” 

“Hmmmph.” Your reply was muffled between her legs. 

“Can’t hear you. Speak louder or I’ll stop.” She lifted her hips up again. 

“Fuck my face baby, please use it.” You panted and waited for her. 

“Mm I plan on it. Now stick out your tongue, I want to fuck it.” 

You did as told almost immediately, you were very eager to please her. Sarah lowered herself on your tongue and got off then let it impose her again. She did this over and over, your tongue was being used as a dick for her. She bounced on it slowly then rolled her hips. Her hand was still inside you so every movement was turning you on again. You moaned wantonly against her pussy as she impaled herself continuously. Her head was thrown back, facing the ceiling, with eyes closed as she rode you. 

Her legs tightened against your head and you could tell she was close. She paused for a moment and threw her ass back into your face several times before coming on your tongue. Your lips widen to suck all of it in your mouth and down your throat. It was hot, salty, and smooth. She got off your face and rested on your abdomen, her wetness residue left on your boobs. 

She let out a sigh and looked back at you, “You’re such a good girl baby. Did you like mommy’s cum?” 

You nodded your head with a smile. “Mommy’s cum was a lot. I even made you squirt.” 

“It’s your turn now. I want you on all fours.” 

She removed her fist from inside you and you groaned at the feeling. Your pussy walls tightly held onto her fingers and this made her chuckle so instead she spit down on your cunt to loosen you up. With less effort, her hand was out and she rolled off of you. You could barely get up but the thought of being eaten from behind was enough motivation. You rolled to the side then lifted yourself up slowly, pulled your legs forward and used your hands to stabilize yourself. There you were, your boobs still in their bra but your underwear long forgotten on the floor somewhere. 

You looked back at Sarah and slightly wiggled your hips as you parted your legs. She grinned and came closer to you, her hands reached up to your bra and unclasped it, tossing it to join the mess on the floor. Your boobs immediately bounced around and this caught her eye. She reached down and pinched them, pulling them as if to milk them. You tossed your head back and moaned, your pussy clenching on thin air. 

“Fuck if I knew they were this big, I’d have done all this sooner.” She said, still squeezing and pulling on them. 

“You’ve thought of me?” 

“Hell yes. The amount of times I’ve wanted your boobs to accidentally fall out of your bikini or walk in on you after showering is ridiculous.” 

“Well now you can have me anytime.” 

“Anytime? Even in front of the guys?” 

“Sarah! We can’t do this in front of them.” 

“Why not? I want them to hear your pretty moans and see what a good girl you are when you’re fisted.” 

“Only if they can see you squirting down my throat. That was so hot by the way.” 

“Can I be honest Y/N?” Sarah asks, lowering her voice a little.

“Yeah of course.” 

“I’ve actually never done any of this before, I just saw it in some videos and I immediately thought of you. I was afraid you’d think I’m weird or something.” 

“Sarah Cameron, your kinky side is the hottest thing ever. I’ve never done this before either but I’m glad we’re each other’s firsts.” 

“Can I try another first?” She bites her lip as she looks at you. 

“Yeah, what is it?” 

“I want to eat you out on all fours.” 

You playfully shake your ass in front of her and say, “Bon appetit.” 

She grins and gets on all fours as well then moves closer to you. Once she has your ass in her view, she leans forward and slaps it softly then again harder. She lowers her head and licks from your pussy entrance to your asshole, this causes you to moan. She repeats it again and you push your ass back into her face, with both hands she grabs it firmly and sucks hard. She’s shaking her face around your pussy, her tongue deeply exploring your insides. You moan even louder, you instinctively arch your back so that you’re face down and ass up. 

The sounds coming from behind you make it sound like she’s actually eating. It’s wet and loud and it fully turns you on. You reach your hand back and feel her head then push her further into you. Sarah moans against your cunt and picks up the pace, her sucking becomes much harsher, you can feel her teeth lightly scraping you. You jumped forward, it’s all becoming too much but she follows you. She lifts her head up to take a breath then dives back in again, the cold air momentarily hits you and your pussy clenches. She spits into your asshole then lets it drip to your pussy, she does it again but the time spreads your cheeks wide so the saliva enters inside instead. 

You groan loudly, shaking your ass to get her attention back to your pussy. She notices this and sticks her tongue out then uses it to prod into your pink squishy hole, she tongue fucks you as you did her. One of her hands spreads your pussy wide open for her and the other comes down to pinch your nipples. You begin to come, she can feel the few drops on her tongue but she knows you’re not there yet. So she lifts her body up and uses her boobs to rub against your clit. With her tongue back inside your pussy, fingers pulling on your boobs, and her nipple grinding on your clit, you’re left coming in her face. You shake with so much force but she doesn’t let go on your ass, if anything she sinks her face further inside, sucking every last drop and swallowing. 

“Your pussy is so tasty baby. And you said I can have it whenever?” 

Your eyes are closed as you keep panting, unable to talk, you just nod. 

She tuts and slaps your cunt, “I need to hear you.” 

You jolt forward and quickly reply, “Yes, have me whenever.” 

“Sit up, I want you to suck mommy’s boobs again.” 

You do as told even if it does take you a minute then you look at her. “So we’re doing the whole mommy thing?” 

“Yeah, I like it.” She sits on the bed with her legs open wide and pats for you to sit in front. 

“Not surprised you have a mommy kink.” You reply with a smirk then sit, your cunts are so close to each other, you can actually feel the heat. 

“You feel that too?” 

“Yeah, can we?” 

Sarah smiles and says, “Another day, I’ll ride your pussy until we cum on each other.” 

“Fuck that sound so good.” Your hands reach for her boobs and you softly massage them. 

“Yeah? You want mommy to fuck your slutty pussy? You want our pussy lips together baby?” 

You nod before you answer, “Yes mommy, I want them to make noise and slide.” 

“Okay but now, be a good girl and suck my boobs. It’s feeding time.” Sarah places her nipple on your lip. You open your mouth and suck it in slowly, closing your eyes and your other hand gently slaps around her other boob. You were happy and you couldn’t wait for more. You’d be each other’s firsts for everything.

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[ratsonastick]

Clarisse with a mermaid/lake protector girlfriend? as if they were talked about a lot by the reader only appearing to talk to her or when Chiron called her, however she manages to transform into a human, and she doesn't talk to anyone other than Clarisse because she is shy and also doesn't like demigods ( except Clarisse, of course)

Lakeside

Clarisse La Rue x FemMermaid!Reader

A/N- I hope this is close to what you wanted!

Requests Remain Open

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Clarisse has never liked the lake, it reminded her of too much and she could never sit down and focus because of the many sounds. 

But one day she spotted something stepping out and walking towards the shore and she became curious. At first, she thought it was another camper, but then she noticed how you had a different type of shine to your body. 

She drew a dagger from her pants and crept forward thinking it was a monster that had split in. Taking shallow breaths she approached you. When she stepped on a branch and broke it she mentally cursed at herself as you turned to look at her with fright. 

You quickly ran back into the water, your skin merging and forming what looked like a tail. Clarisse had heard of you, a myth around camp that she never believed. 

You were the protector of the camp lake, saving drowning children and whatnot. Aphrodite cursed you for loving one of her children. It was said that the girl had asked her mother to get you to leave her alone and this was the first thought.

What was meant to make you ugly, simply only made you more beautiful – or that's what Clarisse thought 

She heard Chiron make an announcement once about leaving trash around the lake, saying the living species were getting upset. She didn't realize it was you they were upsetting. 

Once she left she still had the curiosity to see you again, she asked her siblings if they had seen anything like you but they all just brushed her away. 

So she left it up to herself to find you again. 

She went at the same time she did the day before, this time she went slower, being careful not to scare you. 

She spotted you once again, you had small fabric pieces covering you, and vines, necklaces, and bracelets decorated you adding to the shine of your skin. 

And most importantly you had legs again. 

The night before Clarisse had asked Chiron about you. He told her that you do exist, but you dislike demigods – or any type of god really because of your past. So if she were able to get to you then he would be amazed. 

She wanted to get to you … boy did she want to. 

She walked over the pebbles and cleared her throat, you placed your hands on the ground to quickly stand up but she put her hands up trying to show that she wasn't a threat. 

“I'm Clarisse” she spoke softly, taking a step forward. “What do you want?” You asked in a soft and shy voice which surprised her. 

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders, not even sure what her reasoning was, she just felt drawn to you. “I haven't seen you before.” 

“Good” You answered, simple and plain, not wanting to add more as you took another step away from her. “You're afraid of me?” Clarisse asked, but it came out more as a statement. 

You scoffed turning to face her “No … I hate you.” 

“You don't know me.” Clarisse challenged, if there was one thing Clarisse hated, it was losing a challenge. 

“I've heard the children speak from the boats, they are afraid of you,” you spoke softly, but there was a certain sternness in it that made Clarisse’s heart pump. 

“I’m sorry … but that is simply the way I am. Mean. But I will be nice to you … I’ll try.” Clarisse found herself apologizing for no reason, her shoulders kinda shrugged and she had a straight face. 

It wasn't long until she convinced you to sit down with her, and eventually, she got you laughing. Clarisse was still her anger-driven self, but she mellowed down when she was near you, bringing out a more flirtatious side of her. 

After a few weeks, another camper noticed the two of you talking, and when Clarisse was questioned she gave them an aggressive look and told them to ‘back off’ and that you were not theirs to know about. 

She wanted you to socialize with others, to get over your hatred towards others, but at the same time, she liked having you all to herself. She couldn't help it but it was in her blood to be selfish. 

So the day when she saw you talking to another camper she lost it. She stormed up to the two of you and watched as you stroked the kid's back. “What the hell is going on?” Clarisse pretty much growled at you. 

But the look you gave her was unphased, and that made her even more annoyed. Her arms were crossed as she looked down at the two of you. “He was drowning … it's my job to save the children.” You spoke softly looking back at the kid. 

When Clarisse walked around the kid to see his face, she noticed the snot rolling down his nose and how he was drenched. She felt stupid, but to keep up her strong act she rolled her eyes “You're fine, now get lost.” She told the kid, tilting her head towards the cabins so he would get the hint. 

The little kid who was terrified of Clarisse got up and stumbled away. 

Clarisse watched the kid leave and then turned to face you as you stood up, “You let your imagination control you.” you spoke softly meeting her gaze, “Nothing controls me.” 

“Except for your anger and jealousy.” 

Clarisse scoffed and shook her head “Whatever I'm leaving.” 

“Don't,” you called out to her as she was already walking away, she stopped and swung her foot so it almost twirled her body for her.  She stopped, still a distance away from you as she waited for something else. 

“You're my only friend … I want your company.” You admitted for the first time since she started talking to you. Clarisse couldn't help but smile, so she looked down trying to whip off the smirk and play it cool. 

“Fine only because you are so sweet.” She teased, but she was gonna stay anyway, whether you wanted her to or not. 

She sat down and you followed her, you shyly scooted your hand towards hers, still afraid that Clarisse might get angry and curse you, like that camper had done in the past. 

But Clarisse smiled and took it, letting her hand interlock with yours, feeling your skin and how your hand was so smooth compared to hers. 

You sat together in silence, Clarisse drew patterns into your skin with her thumb, enjoying how you felt, and for the first time, she enjoyed sitting by the water. 

[kirimoochi]

pearl jewelry.

₊˚ ᗢ mermaid! kazuha x gn!reader.

⤷ when his attempts at a marriage proposal flies over your head.

⤷notes; based on this thread.

Mermaid! Kazuha, who thinks that it’s been more than enough time to pop the question for you. 

He has consulted his other friends about the process. This was his first marriage proposal, and he certainly wasn’t going to want something similar to everyone else. Yoimiya suggests that he offer you a pearl necklace, so that you may never lose it. He pouts at the idea, saying that it was tradition for humans to give each other rings and that perhaps you would want a more normal proposal. The bubble quickly popped when Gorou clarifies the notion by saying: “If they wore a ring, what if they go off to fight? What if they lose it? It’s better to give them a necklace so it stays on longer!” 

And so he makes it his absolute mission to get you the best of the best. He searches the bottom of the sea for weeks while you were traveling Mondstadt. He even made sure that it was approved by Kokomi to have the roundest shape. He wasn’t going to give you just any pearl! It would be an insult to his culture if he were to give you something so half-baked. 

It’s been nearly a year since the two of you met. And your routine hasn’t changed much for the most part. You still come to the shores to see your favorite platinum-haired boy, and he would come back to you with the same smiling face you’ve grown to adore. Although you’ve long traveled the seas, visiting places like Liyue and Sumeru, you end up coming back to visit Watatsumi Island to see him. No matter how far you may be, or how dry the lands are, his memory remains fresh like salt water.

You’ve been teased on many occasions by Beidou. She comments that you’ve been staring off into the sea a lot more than usual, perhaps too much with that lovesick look in your eyes. You try to brush it off by saying you were merely friends, tied and bound together by your love for travel. Though she begs to differ. That expression was much like her own, and she too has been infatuated by the strange, mystical creature of the sea. At last, she leaves you alone when you wish to depart the Alcor. 

Stepping onto Watatsumi Island, you make your way to your favorite spot. Tucked in hand was another book that you bought from a bookstore in Mondstadt. It was about the history of grilled fish, and you thought Kazuha might like it. It was rather simple, but you figured that he might appreciate it a little more if it was something that reminded you of him. He was sort of one big fish after all. One that liked to jump into your arms more often than not, leading to the two of you being covered in sand.

To your surprise, Kazuha was sitting on a rock, already waiting for your arrival. He fiddled with something in his hands, his face looking quite nervous and shy. You smiled as you approached the man, sitting down next to him as you stared off into the horizon. You both share a conversation about your recent travels and how beautiful the nation of Mondstadt was, from their windmills to the sound of birds singing, it was nothing short of lovely. Though you would let slip that instead of listening to the drunken bard at Angel’s Share, you loved to listen to Kazuha’s singing.

At this comment, he blushed profusely. He shakes his head in denial but you know him too well to see that he was rather flattered. Finally gaining enough courage to show you what was hidden in his hand for the longest time. He opens a clam, revealing to you a neatly tied pearl on strings. It shined underneath the sun and you found yourself rather captivated. Smiling, you allowed him to wrap it around your neck, the pearl settling neatly on your collarbone. Pressing your fingers against it, you feel those same butterflies jitter in your stomach.

“This is the nicest gift you’ve given me so far,” You giggle, bringing your knees close to your chest, “What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s a lot more than that,” He whispers, leaning his head against your shoulder as he lets out a deep breath. 

He’s been planning this moment for months and everything seemed to go by so quickly. You accepted it so easily that it made him wonder if you even knew the implications behind this gift. While he has given you more pearls in the past, there was nothing more special than how perfect this specific one was. It takes a lot of dedication and time. You would only give something like this to someone you wish to marry, so for you to accept it so easily… 

He snaps his head up at you, looking at you with a confused expression. 

“Kazuha?” 

“Do you… know what this means?” 

You raise your eyebrow. Were you missing something? The gift was lovely, especially when he offered it to you in such a romantic way. It sort of makes your gift for him a lot more lame. You blink several times, unsure of what to say at the moment. So silence fills the air.

 It takes a few moments for everything to click in your head. This necklace must be extremely special. Was it something regarding mermaid culture? You were certainly unfamiliar with the ways of life for him, and the only time you’ve learned much was from Beidou. "That woman I was talking to you about," She started, looking out at the grand ocean, "She used to gift me a lot of pearl necklaces. I didn't understand the sentiment until she told me that it was her way of asking me to be hers," The captain grinned, "Do you think Kazuha would give you something like that?"

Was it a proposal? You stare back at him with a surprised look. He suddenly raises his hand, covering the lower half of his face with his webbed fingers. His cheeks are as bright as apples, and his ears were red. He was embarrassed that he had to spell it out for you in your human language.

“Do you think I’d give something like this to just anyone?” He murmurs, shyly peeking at your eyes. You tighten your hold on the book in your hands, your breath hitching at the sight.

“You wound me, Starling. This is… our equivalent of marriage. So please treat my heart kindly.”

trying out a new format for writing small ideas that sort of feel like fics but aren't super long! i just had to write this one and post it because it's gonna be stuck in my mind if i dont!!

thanks to @maehemthemisfit for the idea ♡♡

[wlntrsldler]

thinking non-canon luke thoughts because i just remembered the story of orpheus and eurydice and i had to take a breather

im thinking about how when luke was starting to have doubts about kronos’ plan; when he was slowly realizing that what the titan was planning was not going to fix everything the way he thought it would, kronos could feel luke slipping away.

im thinking about how it probably wouldn’t have been too late for luke to turn back and return to his friends, his family, and beg for their forgiveness, had he just not shown kronos his weakness, his achilles heel; but he did.

it was in a dream, it started out comforting, like it always did. luke was cleaning up after some of the younger campers in the hermes cabin. no matter how many times he told them to not leave their things on the floor and to throw away their snack wrappers, they wouldn’t listen. luke didn’t know why he wasted his breath reminding his siblings.

you were leaning against the door frame, a mischievous smile on your lips. “what’s up, cinderella?”

luke, startled, dropped the pile of dirty laundry he was holding. when he realized it was you, he rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head, “i told you to stop calling me that.”

when you first called him cinderella, he was a little confused. the disney princesses all blurred into one entity in his mind. was she the one who ate the poisoned apple? the one who pricked her finger on the needle? there’s no way she was the mermaid, right?

when you returned the following summer, you managed to smuggle in a dvd of cinderella and one of those portable dvd players. the two of you watched it in secret while the rest of the campers were away at the bonfire.

at first, luke scoffed at the comparison, “how am i cinderella?”

“you always clean up after your siblings, silly,” you laughed.

he was still a little hurt by it, especially since he harbored a massive crush on you. why couldn’t you see him as a rugged prince or something? he thought maybe wishing that you saw him as a knight would be too cliche; but he accepted the kind-hearted pet name because it made you laugh. it was luke’s favorite sound.

the scene in his dream changed quickly after that. your mischievous smile turned into something more sinister as the darkness from outside trickled into the cabin. the pile of clothes he dropped on the floor disappeared and the floor began to crack, as if trying to swallow him whole. then the voice came.

luke knew that kronos knew about you then; how luke felt about you, how if there was anything that could stop him from joining, it would be you.

as the days went on, the pull to return back to camp was getting stronger. luke wanted to see you. he needed to see you. so he did.

behind the trees of your cabin, he stood there, watching you talk to your siblings. if he concentrated hard enough, his mind could replay the sound of your laughter. he was too far to actually hear it then, but he thought of it. he imagined it.

he even let out a silent chuckle when he thought about how badly you would tease him for spying on you like this; in another life, you’d catch him and joke about how he couldn’t get enough of you. in another life, maybe, he’d hear your laugh again. maybe he’d be the reason for it.

when kronos learned of luke’s escapade, the titan grew angry. the nightmares felt more personal after that. kronos seemed to know all of luke’s weak spots and threatened to act on them if luke disobeyed again.

there was one night that was particularly difficult. the titan was growing stronger and it was the first time luke couldn’t fight him off, the first time he felt himself losing control over his own body, his own mind. luke tried to wake up from his slumber, but it was no use.

kronos dangled a promise in front of him; a promise that if luke continued with the plan, a promise that if luke didn’t look back, kronos would leave you alone, that you’d survive. luke agreed to it. luke would do anything to save you.

but the pull was still there. kronos was right. luke wanted to leave, this he was sure of now, and the night he saw you just made it more difficult to follow through with the plan. he missed you.

in the final battle, luke was too weak to continue fighting. there was so much blood on his hands that he lost track of who he had hurt. he was tired. as he was about to succumb to his fate, he heard it.

“cinderella,” you called out. “hermes cabin is a mess. they need you back.”

luke was distracted by you. only you would be making jokes at a time like this. luke sent you a crooked smile and he received that mischievous smile of yours right back. he thought that it might morph into something evil, like it was one of his dreams, but it didn’t; it turned into something worse.

there was blood spilling out of your mouth. you froze in your spot before falling to your death.

“you looked back.” that voice.

he found enough strength then to do one last thing; with a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, luke stabbed himself in his mortal spot.

[s-che]

Monsterhearts 2: Plotting Anti-Plot

Last week I had the fortune to MC (and play) Monsterhearts 2 for the first time as the Dream Library begins a unit on monsters, monstrosity, and monsterfucking which will carry us through November, and boy howdy am I glad we managed to do it. 

For those who (somehow) don’t know, Monsterhearts is a game that bills itself as being about “the messy lives of teenage monsters.” It cites Twilight, Buffy, Ginger Snaps, The Vampire Diaries, and The Craft as media touchstones, it’s not joking when it says that these monsters are 1. messy and 2. teenagers. Monsterhearts is angsty, horny, frightening and, above all else, extremely fun to play. On top of that, Monsterhearts is also one of those games that, if you’re in a certain sector of the indie RPG scene, people will remind you is extremely fun to play all the fucking time. It feels sometimes like every designer I know has a good Monsterhearts story, and as much as Avery Alder’s reputation on a larger stage has been defined by The Quiet Year, I get the sense that for people who like what Monsterhearts is doing it’s an extremely hard game to beat. 

So to be totally honest, I was more than a little anxious MCing for my first time actually playing the game. There’s a sense in which hosting a game which you know is great can be way harder than hosting games you think might be bad — after all, if the session goes poorly, there’s nobody to blame but yourself. On top of that, Monsterhearts moves through some tricky territory: underage sex is a core element of the game, and the eight “Small Towns” (short, pre-prepped settings for quick starting the game) all deal more or less explicitly with histories of racism and colonialism in communities across North America. While these are interesting places to go in play, the idea of taking them on myself as host made me shy away a little bit (and I’m excited in the next session to look at things from a player’s perspective). 

All in all, though, I think the session was a resounding success. I went in with basically no prep and as much familiarity with the book as I could get (not enough to realize the quick reference sheet we were using for the first half of the session was from Monsterhearts 1, but so it goes), relying on the game itself — which leans away from strictly organized plots and encourages you, in true PBTA fashion, to let characters and their needs bounce off each other until the conversation goes somewhere interesting — to get us smoothly into play. I would call my efforts there a mixed success: while Avery has a real skill for writing pedagogically, giving you the explicit frameworks you need to get into play (if you’ve never begun a session of The Quiet Year by reading the rules book aloud to each other, you should go fix that now), the session was hampered a little by some awkward pacing and uncertainty: partially driven by my chronic tendency to waste time on slowly establishing things in one-shots rather than swinging as hard as I can in the first five minutes and letting the players lead from there and partially by player character relationships that lead to clear, decisive actions... which left one of our players bored at work while the other two went off adventuring. We ended up taking a moment, after returning from the normal mid-session bio-break, to chat and refocus ourselves, figuring out where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see in the last hour or so of the session, and then jumping back in and — thankfully — playing hard to reach a strong conclusion. In the end, I’m not interested in tracking down exactly where the first half of our session lost its footing (although I have some ideas for how I could have hit harder as an MC). I’m more interested in celebrating the way the table was able to come together, talk explicitly about what we wanted, and get the game somewhere satisfying for everyone involved. We closed on, among other things: an underwater fight between the Fairy (Mermaid?) Queen and a Kraken-Leviathan-Hellmonster, a throuple sneaking off from a beach party to hook up, and the messy end of a South Jersey summer (complete with a tsunami and a beached whale front of the boardwalk). It was a good time. 

Most striking to me in this moment, however, is the way thinking about Monsterhearts as a plotless game positions both me as MC and the other players. It really speaks to the way that capital-T The capital-C Conversation works in Powered by the Apocalypse games (good ones, anyway) to let play flow not according to the rules of a paced narrative, but along lines of player interest and highly-charged emotional incident. It is, I think, part of what makes all the PBTA games we’ve played in the Dream Library sing (in no small part because we pruned the last unit and didn’t play any PBTA games I think are bad, but that’s a different conversation) and it suits this game — with it’s emphasis on sex and messy desire — extremely well. It also fits in nicely with a point I’ve heard a couple of people make recently: that thinking of RPGs as first and foremost collective narrative engines is, at the very least, a narrow view. 

Anyway, this week I’m fortunate enough to be joined by a new host (hi @jdragsky) so I can check out MH as a player, then we’ve got a couple of two-shots planned for the end of the month before we move on to our next monstrously intimate game: Bluebeard’s Bride. You want in on an upcoming game? Have a link. You want to hear more about Monsterhearts? One of my players wrote up some of her thoughts as well.

Otherwise, well, get out of here. Scram.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .4

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Mutual masturbation; Come eating; Angst; Vague mention of abortion; Discussions of child neglect; Discussions of unwanted pregnancy

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Some of this is so… phew… idk what came over me or how i come up with some of this shit. sorry (but not really). Joel’s a little nasty in this beware

Art is by Denis Sarazhin.

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

.4

A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

To think that despite his momentary acquiescence to your need for space, he was not, afterwards, made into a raving, snarling beast prowling its cage after having tasted you, would be fallacy – because that was what he was calling it in his mind, for now. Not yet ready to accept it within himself as a full blown rejection, so yes, for now, space, time.

He returns home with Sarah after the lakehouse – Eva gone off with her girlfriends on an extension of the weekend, wanting to draw out the farewell to summer just a little longer – to their routine of lunches and snacks and daycare and evenings playing mermaids and dinosaurs in the little pool in the backyard that he’d gotten for her at HEB. He tries to be good, to remain calm, controlled, but it’s just short of impossible. He feels as though he still has the taste of you on the surface of his tongue, the sounds of your moans ringing in his ears at all hours of the day, in bed at night, hard and aching and alone, wanting you. This turns out to be a different type of hell to the one he’s usually used to, that of monotony and loneliness and resentment. No, this is burning and painful, a type of fire that whips through his arteries and chars his bones and leaves him dizzy and disoriented.

He’s never experienced something like this before. Not in his entire life. 

It is not easy, per se, but productive, to lose himself in his work, and the start of Sarah’s school year. She’s in a 3K program for the fall, her first time going to a real school, and the work and preparation and pure fucking anxiety induced at the thought of his baby going to such a big school is overwhelming. No small feat to accomplish all on his own. 

But at night, after he’s worked himself into the ground all day, and read Sarah her bedtime story, at least three times, sometimes up to seven, but never passing ten, that was their very strict rule, and tucked her in and checked the closet and under the bed and behind the door for monsters, when he’s finally found himself alone and quiet and with a spare, but infinitely painful moment to think of you, he lets you in, in full force.

He pulls his shirt up over the back of his head, tossing it into the hamper as he passes his closet into his restroom, undoes his belt and jeans, pulling his contraband from the pocket, to push them off as he reaches to turn on the shower. 

As he lets the water heat up, he pauses to look at himself in the mirror. Tall, long frame, still pleasing to a woman, he’d imagine. Well, he hopes so. He’s still strong, his shoulders broad, his chest built from the long hours of hauling and climbing and exhaustive physical labor. There are a few grays threaded through the dark curls at his temples. Sprouting, just in the last year, to remind him that he’s getting older. One of his buddies had told him that eventually everything went gray, everything. That weirded the fuck out of him, to be honest.  He hates the thought of you seeing that, thinking of him as old. You’re so much younger than him. So pretty. Too pretty. His middle has gone slightly softer since hitting forty, but only slightly. There’s no helping that. And the small creases at the corners of his eyes… shit, he’s getting old. But his cock is still long and thick, and he’ll give that to you as much as you’ll let him. If you ever let him. All the time if he can. All he has to do is find a way to see you again, to convince you to let him see you again.

He feels a small bitter ribbon of self consciousness curl through his stomach as he takes himself in. He doesn’t want you to think of him as some old man. Some old, sleazy man who’d seen you and been so fucking desperate for you, he hadn’t cared that he was married, that you’re too young for him, that he has a family, and responsibilities and a life, like some pathetic fucking pervert. You’re just so lovely, so soft and pretty and you smell so good, always. And he’s been so alone for so fucking long. He is lonely. And you, you’d looked at him, you’d seen him, you’d wanted him back just as fiercely as he’d wanted you, even if just for a moment. How was he ever supposed to be strong enough to resist that? And further than your wanting, you’re good and kind and smart and so fucking funny and adorable. Joel could be strong when he needed to be, but he could also be weak, and he thinks that you, perhaps, have the power to make him weaker than anything else. 

What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the person who you could very well fall, probably, very deeply in love with?

Because yes, even now, he is emotionally aware enough to recognize that. More than anything, he can recognize that he has, as of yet, never been in love, but that you present the great, great possibility for that. And yes, it’s too soon, and maybe nonsensical or crazy or what have you, but Joel has always been a man that’s known himself well. When he knows, he knows, and when he chooses, he chooses, and he is very close to knowing and choosing you. 

He looks down at your panties laying on the bathroom counter – the ones he’d stolen. After you’d slipped them off, too wet from your come, from him making you come – they’re his now. 

He runs his thumb and forefinger along the silk lace at the edge. They’re a pretty, soft blue. He loves the color blue now. It will, forevermore, be his favorite color after this. The cut in the back is high, he knows the soft flesh of your ass was left mostly uncovered by them, he remembers he felt it when you rode his thigh. He wishes he could have seen it. He hopes he’ll have another chance to see it. 

If he thinks about it hard enough, he can imagine that the middle gusset is still damp from you. He brings them to his face, presses them to his nose and inhales deeply. The scent: still faintly musky, but also, slightly sweet. He sticks his tongue out to taste the fabric, and a violent shiver passes through him. He has to clutch at the countertop to hold himself upright. His cock is fully erect and leaking now. 

He has to taste you. He has to get the chance to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’s sure of it.

He brings the soft lace down to his aching erection. He doesn’t care if he’s disgusting. He doesn’t care about anything. All he wants is to feel you. To temper this fire churning in his blood. He can’t remember the last time his body felt like this, the last time he wanted something this fucking badly he felt like he’d die if he didn’t have it. Maybe never – he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this. He wraps your panties around his hard length and starts to jack himself off. Strong, tight strokes from base to tip with the tiny, blue silk sliding along his fevered skin. The sound of your orgasm, the look in your eyes as you humped his thigh, ground your little clit on him and soaked his denim. He should’ve touched you more when he had the chance. He wants to fuck you so badly, wants to sink into the tight, wet clutch of your cunt and fuck you full of his come. Mark you. Brand himself into your skin so that you’re never without him. He wants you to smell like him. He wants to feel the wet gush he felt on his jeans on his cock and dripping down his balls, and Jesus fucking Christ, he comes at that. Long, thick ropes of white spend, spitting from his swollen tip at the thought of your pussy coming around him, a desperate whimper escaping in the quiet loneliness of his restroom.  

-

He thinks of you constantly, what seems like every moment of the day, in the weeks that follow. As much as he tries to keep a straight head on, he can’t. He craves you, dreams of you, fucks his hand to the memory of you coming for him, spilling his seed over and over again in the shower at the remembered look in your eyes and the sounds you made for him. He can’t help himself. 

Outside of that, everything else in his life is bleak and slow and… and he doesn’t know what else to call it, except for sad and wanting. Lonely. To have touched something so alive, so beautiful and sweet and perfect, and then be forced to return to the barren landscape that is his life in everything outside of his daughter, it’s jarringly difficult to do. He wants to be strong, to do what you asked of him, but it had been so long since he’d really wanted something for himself. Couldn’t remember what the last thing had been, really, and so to now have something to desire, something to want and think of, it makes him weak and fills his head with all kinds of excuses to see you, to call you – he’d forced Tommy to steal your number for him out of Gerri’s phone – to go to your work and wait for you to come out, just so he can catch a single glimpse of you.

He restrains himself from that, though. He forces himself to focus his mind on other things, Sarah and school and playdates, and he works himself like a dog, taking on more contracts than he ever has before. He doesn’t give himself any time to rest, any time to think, and in the few moments that he does, when he stares at your number on the screen of his phone, imagining what it is he’d say to you if he called, if you answered, what the sound of your voice would be like saying hello to him, saying his name, or in the moments when he fucks himself raw and spent and sad, those are the moments when he feels weakest, when he feels most alone, when he’s almost overwhelmed with wanting. 

-

He only lasts a measly three weeks after the lake house before he’s outside of the elementary school, one late Wednesday afternoon during the second week of the new school year. The sky is dark and angry, on the verge of a downpour, and he’s been waiting, agitated and anxious, for about half an hour, before you finally come out the double doors. 

The lightest sprinkling of rain is starting up, and he jumps out of his truck’s cab, jacket in hand, to approach you. He says your name softly as he comes up on your side while you’re distracted, digging in your purse for something.

You jump slightly at the sound of his voice and turn your wide, worried eyes on him, “Joel–” your voice, soft and breathy, so sweet, “Is everything okay? What are you doing here? Is Sarah okay?”

He holds his hands up in what he hopes is an appeasing, non-threatening gesture, he doesn’t want you nervous. Fucking Christ, asking for Sarah with that look of worry in your eyes, “Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” how in the fuck is he supposed to not be obsessed with you? “I was just – I was just hoping we could talk, is all.”

You look around at the sparsely filled parking lot, as if searching for witnesses, or perhaps, an escape, but then you turn back to him and pause to take him in. He watches the sweep of your eyes down his body, and then back up, stopping to search for something in his eyes. Whatever you find there must give you the answer you need because you nod your head once, “Alright, we can talk,” you say softly.

“My truck? Can we drive for a bit? I’ll bring you back.” You nod again, and he drapes his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from the drizzle as he leads you to his truck. “S’bout to come down hard,” he murmurs as he opens the passenger door for you, taking your wrist in his hold to help you up into the truck. He can’t help himself, he reaches for your seatbelt and buckles you in himself – is filled with an obscenely embarrassing fizz of pleasure at the gesture of it. 

You’re looking at him with the most concerned little frown marring the soft spot between your delicate brows, “Are you okay?” your voice slow and unsure, and then more of him being unable to help himself, to keep his hands to himself, because he reaches up and gently brushes his thumb over the little frowning wrinkle, nods his head once. 

“I’m okay, baby.”

He drives for a bit, takes you to a spot up in the hills he likes to come to sometimes when he needs to think. Somewhere the two of you can be alone and quiet, just for a moment. He parks the truck by a copse of trees, a view of Austin on the other side of the two of you. The rain has turned into a violent downpour by now. He shuts off the engine and looks out at the view of the city. 

-

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t bother you – you asked me to stay away, but –” He lets his head fall back against the headrest and sighs, and the sound of it is so weary, pained in a way that’s so very, very sad. It makes you hurt for him. You reach across the center console to grip his bicep, you can’t help yourself. You could see from the first look at his face that something was wrong. You know he wouldn’t have come to look for you if he didn’t need you now. 

“You’re not bothering me. I know I shouldn’t, but I wanted to see you too.” You only confess this because of the look in his eyes. The glassy, burdened look of them. You wish that you could climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, press your warmth into him. The rain hits the windshield like bullets, the sound deafening. The world outside of his truck’s cabin seems distorted, as if this liminal space the two of you sit in now, has been carved out of the rest of the real world, and the two of you exist here now, only, together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” he wraps his hand over yours on his arm, drags his thumb over the smooth little hills of your knuckles. His gaze out the window is so far away, lost, something almost childlike in its desolation. You watch the strong ripple of his neck as he swallows, clears his throat. “Nothing – just wanted to see you. ‘Dunno… Felt so tired today.” He closes his eyes for a moment, “Couldn’t stop myself. Wanted to just give myself this one thing.” He lets his head roll against the seat to look at you, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile. So beautiful and so sad, and you can tell that something is endlessly wrong. You feel afraid, for one moment, that he’s going to start crying, the sadness in his eyes is so overwhelming. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand the sight of his tears, you think they might break you. “Just wanted to look at you, to sit here with you, just for a little bit.”

“Alright.” You’re quiet for a beat, watching him watch the rain. Part of you wants to give him space, give him quiet, but you need to know what’s wrong. You can’t bear the look in his eyes right now. “Did something happen?”

He’s silent, as if gathering his thoughts or his strength around him, and then: “Eva had a pregnancy scare this week.” A jagged shiver slices through you.

“What?” You croak, you try to pull your hand back, but he clamps down on your bones, holds you to him. “But I thought–”

He shakes his head, “Not mine.”

“Joel… what? Are– are you–” You blink furiously, at a loss. What do you say to the man who you’re kind of having an affair with when he tells you his wife, who is also seemingly having an affair, might be pregnant with another man’s child? This is all so, so fucked up. So ugly. You swallow, turn to look out at the rain. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t seem to help the tears from pooling. A bombardment of recurring images from your childhood slingshotting through your mind; your mother, leaving, angry, cold, quiet. Always pushing you away. The sound of her crying through her bedroom door, your child’s ear, pressed to the cool grain, trying to get as close to her as possible even though she doesn’t want you. Always shutting you out. Your father, dead to the world on the sofa in the living room, drowning in his liquor and yearning and hurt. The sight of a tall, handsome stranger, coming up the front walk to ring the doorbell, to take your mother away with him. The way he’d crouched down from his great height to ask you what your name was because she hadn’t even bothered to tell the man she was having an affair with, the man she was leaving you for, what your name was. 

What is it about being unlovable, you wonder, and why is it that some are cursed with it so cruelly, while others are not?

“Hey,” Joel tugs on your wrist, pulls you closer to him. “I told you, we’re not like that, we’ve never been. I don’t want you thinkin’ somethin’ else, that I haven’t been honest.” He drags the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone, tips your head back to catch your eyes. You let them flutter shut and swallow, open them again. If you talk you’ll cry, but he needs words from you now. You swallow again, shake your head. 

“It’s– it’s not that. I believe you. And even if it was otherwise, I have no right–”

“Stop. Don’t say that. You know that isn’t true. You have the right to honesty after what I’ve told you, after what we’ve done.” You try to pull back, but he brings his palm to wrap around the back of your neck and grip you by the scruff. “Stop,” he grits, “Don’t pull away from me.” 

You bring your palms up to his chest, clutch at the collar of his shirt. “I’m not. I’m not, I’m sorry. It’s just–” you huff a sharp, bitter laugh, “Sometimes it’s like you’re just telling me the story of my childhood, over and over again. Like you’re living it again for me. This all sounds very pathetically familiar.” A tear finally falls, you can’t help it. A weeper in a long line of weepers, always. 

“Sweetheart…” he brushes the track of your tear away with his thumb.

You shake your head. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Is she?”

“She’s fine. Took her to the doctor this morning.”

“God, Joel– I don’t – I don’t know how you do this.” Another tear. You think of your father, how weak, how broken he was after her. He could have never shouldered the things Joel does. You feel very sad, very sorry, for the both of them, as different as they are. You feel sorry for the whole miserable lot of you, really.

“She needed my help, she was scared–” his thumb sweeps a slow, hypnotizing path up and down the back of your neck. The rough callus on his thumb catches at your sensitive skin and makes you feel hot and sweaty and overwhelmed for the feel of it on every other tender place on your body. “Terrified, really. Of being trapped like that again.”

“Trapped?”

“Sarah was never her plan. Neither of us were. She never wanted any of this.”

“You told me the marriage wasn’t conventional… but I didn’t – I didn’t think Sarah was included in that…” Your stories are too similar, the similarities too painfully familiar.

“We met at a bar, it was–” he looks away, and you watch a hot flush flood his cheeks. He’s embarrassed to tell you this. “It was a one night thing. Her birth control failed, and then – it was just – well, ending the pregnancy was never an option for her, and I told her from the get go that I’d do whatever she wanted, support her in anything she chose. She chose to go on with it. So I asked her to marry me, it made sense, it was– it was the convenient thing. At least, at the time – in my mind, it seemed so. But we – we were strangers, there was no connection. And then… I don’t know. It wasn’t, eventually – it wasn’t the right thing, at all, for any of us. She never wanted to be a mother. She told me once, after, that she’d chosen wrong, she’d made the wrong decision. And I always tried to be supportive, but by that time, well – we had Sarah by that time, and I– I loved her more than anything I’d ever loved in my whole life. Didn’t even know it was possible to love anything that much – and it made me so fucking angry with her – to–  to hear her say something like that, that she should’ve gotten rid of her. It was – I don’t know – a very complicated and painful thing –  for the both of us to grapple with, I guess. But I–” he pauses, takes a deep breath. His eyes shift madly, looking out the window as if the rain will bring with it an explanation or an escape for whatever it is that’s churning inside his mind as he tells you this. “There was never really anything to be angry with, I don’t think. No real reason or focus for my anger. I realized it’s impossible to fault a person for not being what they were never meant to be. She never wanted this. And I hadn’t planned for it, it just happened. And the decisions we made were made, and then things just ended up as they did. Sometimes – I don’t,” he frowns, shaking his head, “I don’t know how to say it, but–” He turns to you now, a wild, pleading look in his eyes, “But how can I say that we made a mistake, without saying that Sarah was a mistake? Because if I’ve ever done a single thing absolutely perfect, in my whole entire life, it’s that little girl. She’s perfect. You know what I mean?”

You nod, swallowing back your tears, “Yes.”

He frowns at you, his eyes filled with infinite tenderness, “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” you lie, turning to press the back of your hand to your hot eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it reminds me of myself, of my own mother. She – she was the same, I think. Never meant to be a mother. But not bad. It’s just what it was. And hearing you, hearing this, it makes me so sad for you, for all of you. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, wraps his hand around your jaw to press his brow to your wet cheek and just holds there. The two of you breathe each other in, match the cadence of your breaths to the other. You snake your arms around his broad shoulders to press yourself closer to him. It scares you, this feeling of necessity he forces out of you, like you need him, even this soon, for strength, for comfort, for happiness. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s coming on so quickly, overwhelming you. You feel like you need him, and if you don’t have him you’ll never be happy for the rest of your life, you’ll never be able to forget him, to let him go. He shifts to nuzzle against your cheek and then your jaw, and then the hot press of his lips to the tender spot behind your ear. A violent tremble moves through you at the feel of his soft mouth against your skin, and you dig your nails harshly into his shoulders. 

“I just– lemme just–” he mumbles against your skin, and then that hand wrapped around your jaw is turning your head and forcing your mouth open so that he’s kissing you, licking into your mouth and everything goes tight and painful and white hot inside of you. “Jesus–” he says against your mouth. He forces your head back to deepen the angle, his other hand coming up to fist painfully in your hair, and you whimper into him. His answering groan is deep and rumbling and so, so wanting. Your heart feels like it’s flipping and squeezing and pinching inside your ribcage. You can hear how much he wants you, this, in the cadence of the sounds he makes. The kiss is wet, sloppy, full of teeth and all the desperation and yearning of these past few weeks. The days and days of not seeing him, of remembering your encounter in that dark room at the lake house, the way he’d made you come against his thigh, the sound of his own orgasm, the inhibition, the flush in his cheeks as he spilled in his jeans for you. The desperate, pathetic nights of your cunt stuffed full of your fingers, so wet and aching and still not enough even though you’d made yourself orgasm multiple times at just the memory of him. You claw at his hair and neck and back, you want to draw blood, imprint yourself on him in some way, the same way he’s imprinted himself on you. He brings the hand in your hair down to your waist to press you closer to him. The center console digs painfully into your ribs and you want to climb over it and settle in his lap, but you know you shouldn’t, that if you end up over there you’ll let him fuck you, and that you’ll never come back from that. Not ever. He drags his hand up to your breast, grips the heavy weight in his large palm and squeezes, and it hurts and it feels so, so fucking good that you rip yourself away from his mouth, push at his broad chest to force him away from you. The both of you stare at each other, wide eyed and panting great, heaving gasps. His hair is sticking up at all angles, messy from your pillaging fingers, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed almost feverish. 

Oh, you want him so badly. This will be your undoing. 

“We– we can’t– I didn’t come here with you for– for that,” you gasp, pressing your fingers to your wet mouth.

“I know– I know– shit, we–” He passes a palm over his mouth, and you feel another tear slide down your burning cheek. You’re surprised you don’t see steam rise at the contact. “Fuck – fuck, baby, please. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I got carried away– ”

“I’m not crying– I’m not.” Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll be true. You turn to wipe it away on the hill of your shoulder, try to hide your face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you

“I wanted you to. I want it so badly,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You feel inconsolable. 

“I know– I know.”

You want him so badly, so badly, so badly, you want him to keep touching you forever. “It hurts, Joel. It hurts–”

“Jesus, what hurts? Tell me.” He leans forward, gripping your knee painfully tight, and you press yourself into the door at your back, “Fuck– is that sweet, little cunt aching for me? Tell me, baby.”

You nod

“Fuck, what if– what if we just – just watch each other? What if you pet your cunt for me, and let me watch? Just– just to make the ache go away? Would that be okay?”

You shake your head, unsure, but your hand is clutching his over your knee now, digging your nails into the top of his palm and letting him slowly push your knee open further. 

His voice is so coaxing. Oh, he shouldn’t use that tone of voice against you, you’re powerless to it. “You can, it’s okay. It’s just to make the ache go away, it’s okay,” and you have no choice but to capitulate, no desire to not give in.

His palm on your knee slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt to bunch at your hips, and he hooks one finger into the side of your panties to pull them down as you lift your hips, allowing him to divest you of them. So easy, you’re so fucking easy, and you don’t even care. All you can focus on right now is the throbbing ache between your legs. 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he says, “Spread your legs… that’s it.” 

“Don’t– don’t look–” you stutter as you bring your shaking fingers to your core, and he’s leaning back to undo his belt and drag his zipper down. You can’t look either, you can’t, if you do, you’ll lose, you know it. You see the peripheral movement of him reaching into his clothes to pull the heft of his cock out, the shift of his upper body as he lifts his hips to readjust his pants to free himself. Your cunt is slick and throbbing, painfully swollen. 

You watch the movement of his shoulder as he starts to jack himself, “Just your clit first, baby. Soft, little circles, yeah… how does that feel?”

“Good– good, yes.” You’re panting, mouth hanging open. There is fire in his gaze, all for you, only for you. 

“Yeah? You need more?”

“Please, Joel–” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but you don’t think it’s for your touch alone. 

“Give yourself one finger, sweetheart. Just one – tell me how wet it is? Are you soaked for me?”

You press one finger inside, and yes, yes, your’re fucking soaked for him, you say. He groans at that, the rhythm of his shoulder gets faster. “I have to look, baby. Please, please, I have to see how wet it is.” The tops of his cheeks are flushed red, but as you watch the downward shift of his eyes to your spread sex, the place where you’re impaling yourself with a single finger, his eyes flare, the flush seems to ricochet even higher, hotter. You pull your finger out to cup yourself, hide yourself, burning with shyness and lust, but fuck, the look in his eyes, it’s bright hot, devouring. No one has ever looked at you like that. Never. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, “Put ‘em back in. Fuck yourself, make yourself come. I have to see it.” So fucking gorgeous, you hear him mutter under his breath, and you finally give yourself permission to look down as you stuff two fingers back into your desperate pussy. Fuck your rules, you have to see him.

He’s huge.

Thick and long, the size of his cock is not made smaller by the massive breadth of his fist holding it in a vice-like grip, jacking it, tight and fast. The head is flushed a deep, angry red, the slit at the top weeping a pearly stream of precum that makes your mouth water and the muscles in your pelvis tighten – you want to taste him, you want him to fuck your mouth until you’re forced to swallow his load. There’s a thick vein running up the entire length of the underside of the shaft that you’re sure you’d feel his pulse in if you set your tongue against it. He’s pulled his heavy balls out over the edge of his jeans too, and he cups them and squeezes. 

“Spread yourself wider for me – yeah like that… Lemme see you stretch that cunt.”Oh, he’s so dirty. 

You’re sucking in quick, shallow gulps of air, on the verge of hyperventilating as you watch his massive palm beat at his cock, almost dizzy with lust, your blood rushing in your head, your pussy sopping wet, tight as a knot. This isn’t enough, you want to stop, you want to go further, you want him to touch you, to climb into his lap, to take that heavy, thick weight inside of you and feel him stretch you to the point of pain. “Don’t look– you shouldn’t look–” you don’t know why you say it, maybe because you feel you have to, but it’s nonsensical when your eyes are glued to him. 

“I have to look, baby. Please, don’t ask me that. I have to see it – fuck, you’re so gorgeous, look at you. Prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Stop,” you moan, arching your back further to crook your fingers inside of yourself, hitching your knees higher to pet at the spongy, tender spot inside you that you’d like him to own. “St– stop– I’m–  m’not your baby– don’t– don’t– oh fuck, I’m gonna come–” your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his choked growl, his eyes glued to your stretched sex, the sounds of your wetness and his slick palm echoing in the truck cabin. 

“You are, you are – even if you won’t let me touch you, won’t let me have you – you fucking belong to me now. Already, even like this – look at you, about to come for me with just my eyes on you.” His hips start to lift into his fist, his hand almost a blur for how fast he’s fucking himself, teeth gritted, tendons in his strong neck popping starkly under the surface of his flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Fuck– fuck, it’s so pretty.”

“Stop– please, Joel, I need–”

“Wanna taste it and fuck it and fill it with my come–”

“Oh my fucking God–” you’re going to come, now, now, it’s right there. You tell him.

“One more finger – lemme see you stretch yourself… yeah like that… my good fucking girl,” grunted as you stuff a third finger inside and start to spasm, mewling high and desperate for him, grinding your clit against the mound of your palm. You want his cock to stretch you like this, and you tell him. The sound he makes at your desperate plea, as if it’s been ripped out of him, painful, desperate, savage. You watch the wide head flush an almost deeper shade, verging on purple now, and he squeezes the base cruelly, his sack fisted tight in his other hand, and he starts to come, a thick white stream of milky spend that makes your mouth water, sliding over his fist and spurting onto his exposed belly. “Oh God, Joel, I want it.” You can’t stop the words, the sight of his orgasm forces them out of you. 

“I know, baby, I know. I want to give it to you,” he says through clenched teeth. 

You both stay frozen like that for a moment as you come down, panting and staring at each other wide eyed and flushed and trembling. That was, perhaps, no, it was without a doubt, the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced with a man, and you’d barely even touched each other. Pain and pleasure coalesce to leave you shaking and sweating, your skin hypersensitive. You’re scared you’re going to start crying again and scare him, give him the wrong idea – that you’d not liked this, that you’d not wanted this. When the truth is that nothing could ever compare to how much you wanted, needed it. How much you’ll want this forever now. You want to take him inside of you. The sheer force of your desire almost has a flavor, a shape to it. The strength of it, so potent, it is almost made sentient – a living thing. 

You pull your wet fingers out, and he snaps forward suddenly, to snatch your hand towards himself and brings the slick digits into his mouth, his tongue laving hot and wet between the spaces, sucking on them. All the while his eyes are zeroed in on the space between your legs, on the place that is still clenching and stretched, so ready and eager for him to fill. You gasp at his ferocity, at the feral look in his eyes because you can see, you can see that almost sentient desire you’re filled with, reflected in his own eyes. 

“Joel–” you whisper as he presses one final kiss to the wet tips of your fingers, his eyes fluttering shut as he holds there for one moment. 

“I know–” he whispers back, and when his eyes come back to yours, there is such a depth of understanding in them. You realize in this moment, in this shared look, that the two of you are the same in an essential way. It isn’t just your desire that connects the two of you now, it’s so much more. A loneliness, a sentimentality, perhaps, a keen sense of familiarity. That vein of shyness, of being closed off, that fear of opening up, of being hurt, of being left. He’s the same, you can see it, feel it. 

You’d never thought you had a very good sense of self identity – your perception of yourself skewed in the image of your mother, of who she was, of her shadow, of the things she’d done, but in this moment, looking into the reflection of Joel’s eyes, you feel you see yourself very clearly, almost securely, for the first time. It is recognition the two of you are sharing now, for some reason, in some way, you recognize him. And you find it ironic, that now, in this moment of all times, when you’re doing the very thing that you’d always been so afraid of, of turning into the thing that you’d always feared because of your mother, it is ironic that you are finally able to cast away her shadow, her image, and see only yourself, so clearly, so wholly, because of him.

And yet, despite the sudden, blinding clarity, oh, it was all so dark, so dark, that it be this man, this unavailable, married, unreachable man, that would make you feel so wholly seen, so understood, so connected. 

Your wrist is left wet and sticky where he’s gripped you with his spend covered fingers, but you’re careful not to wipe it away. You want to be left with the tightness of his dried come over your skin. 

“Don’t say that we shouldn’t have done that,” he tells you.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“I was going to say that I wish we could do it again – that I wish we could do more.”

“Shit–” he whispers, passes his dry palm over his mouth and then up into his hair, to tug at the messy curls. You move to right your clothes, and he follows your lead, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Me too.”

You let your head rest back against the window as the two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment. It’s comforting, filled with companionship, understanding, the intimacy of the moment the two of you just shared. Your cheeks feel hot and you can’t help but smile at him, just a little, a small laugh escaping, and then he’s returning it, smiling and laughing softly too, until the both of you are wracked with the most ridiculous, schoolyard giggles, like two blushing teenagers. It’s a wonderful moment for the purity of it, the two of you together, laughing. Later, you’re sure it will make you very sad and desperate to relive it, but now, oh, now, it really does feel so wonderful. You wish the two of you could live here forever, together in this moment, in the warm, intimate space of his truck’s cabin.

You talk for hours after that, about nothing and everything. His work and yours, your art, his love of building things, of taking care of things, music and movies and books and Sarah. Always, Sarah. 

“She has an obsession with bats right now, weird kid, and there’s a sanctuary up town. We spent a few hours there on Saturday, she loved it. Scampering around in this Snow White princess dress she’s refused to take off for the past three weeks. Won’t part with the damn thing, not even to let me wash it.”

He loves her so much, and it makes your heart pinch and your eyes go hot and weepy. He is, you think, an exceptionally good father, an exceptionally good man. 

Eventually, however, it gets late enough that the two of you realize you need to get home. He drives you back to the school in the most comfortable of silences, your hand intertwined reassuringly in his strong embrace. It feels worryingly natural, right. 

“Will you let me see you again?” he asks when he pulls up next to your lonely car in the school parking lot. 

“I don’t– I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Joel. This will only go further from here if we continue. And I don’t– I can’t be your–” you frown, shaking your head, disgusted at yourself for even having to say the words, “I can’t be your mistress,” you tell him bluntly.

“I would never, never ask that of you.”

“So, then what is it supposed to be? You’re going to leave your wife? That– that isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be the thing that breaks your marriage up, your family, that leaves Sarah in a broken home. I cannot be that.” It would be your worst nightmare come to life. 

He says your name in the most serious tone you think he can muster, as if he can imbue the understanding of his words into your stubborn skull with the resonance of it, “There is no marriage to break up. She’s leaving soon, I know it, I can tell. She’s done. She’s leaving Sarah, and I don’t think she’s coming back this time. I don’t think I can let her just – just come in and out of our daughter’s life like that. Something needs to stop or change. I have to do something to make this better for my girl.”

“I understand that, and I can’t– I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that for Sarah. For you. Really, I understand more than I can tell you – but still, when it comes to you and I, or you and her – I can’t … I can’t get into that like this. I– I, I don’t–” you pant, “I don’t know. I’m sorry. But I can’t do that, this. Not now.”

“Baby–”

“No, Joel. You don’t understand – I watched my mother cheat on my father my entire childhood, until she up and left us one day, left him. I watched him love her for years, unreturned, suffer for her, and then I watched him kill himself slowly, drink himself to death until I buried him.”

“That isn’t what Eva and I are–”

“I cannot have an affair with you. I know – I know that’s basically what we’re already fucking doing – I know I’m a hypocrite–”

“You’re not–”

“But I can’t also be the reason you leave your marriage. It would kill me – do you understand?” your voice cracks, you’re shocked you’re not crying right now. “Please, Joel.”

He looks at you for a moment, you’re afraid you can see anger in his eyes, but then they go soft, understanding, and he says, “Yeah… yeah, sweetheart. I understand.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a shaky breath, relieved, but at the same time, filled with a sick twist of disappointment. What would you do if he pressed you, if he forced you? You know part of you would like it. “Can I at least call you? Only sometimes, please. Just to talk – to hear your voice.”

You start to shake your head, but when you open your eyes and take in the pleading look in his gaze, you can’t say no. “Alright, yes… yes, you can call me. That’s okay.”

“Can I kiss you? Just once more?” You lean over the console and press your lips to his, sudden and rough, as an answer, your teeth clicking together harshly. Of course, you want to kiss him again, of course. 

One long, tight moment, you clutch his wrists to keep them from pulling you in closer, and then you’re pulling back, scrambling out of the truck and forcing yourself away from him. You need to get away before you lose all strength of will and just let him do whatever he wants to you. You hear him get out, as well, and follow you around to your driver’s side door, waiting behind you as you dig for your car keys in your bag. You open the door, and then turn back to him, you can’t help yourself, and he lifts a hand to drag his thumb across your cheekbone, along the edge of your jaw. His eyes look so sad, like he’s afraid this’ll be the last time the two of you ever see each other again. The tears are back and angrily demanding release, but you try and take deep breaths through your nose to keep them at bay while your entire frame shakes and shivers at the restraint. He nods once and leans forward to press a long kiss above your brow, and then he turns and walks back to his truck, gets inside. He waits until you’ve gotten in your own car and are driving away, great heaving sobs wracking your body, overwhelming you, before you see him finally turn his truck on and start to drive back home, back to his wife and child.

Chapter .5

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

End Notes: This was kind of a heavy one, if there’s anything you’d like to chat about (or yell at me for all the angsty bullshit) pls come do so :)

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i was thinking about how ariel from the little mermaid is criticized so harshly for "giving up her voice and family for some guy" when there was definitely a lot more to it than that.

ariel had dreams outside of eric. she wanted to see the world, she wanted to get acquainted with humans and human traditions and she wasn't satisfied with her life underwater. that was the whole point of "part of your world", she barely mentions eric in it. he was just a bonus in her new life, not her entire purpose.

why am i talking about a random disney movie? it's because i was thinking of lumity, and how amity also rebelled against her family for a new life. except.. amity really only mentions luz (and "the others" because let's be real, she did not give a shit about willow and gus at that point). amity's sole reason to go against her family's values was luz.

this, if anything, could be considered "giving up everything for a love interest" but people don't see it that way because amity's parents were shitty to begin with. but if you look at the little mermaid from a different perspective, you could argue that king triton wasn't a very good parent either.

he literally throws a temper tantrum just because his teenage daughter has a crush on a guy. ariel is legit terrified in that scene, and regardless of whether triton had good intentions or not, he made his daughter feel unsafe and turn to an impulsive decision in a moment of emotional distress.

all of this to say, you could argue that ariel had no reason to stay with her family either, given that her father lacks emotional sensitivity and does not sit down and try to communicate with his child, instead of destroying her collection and scaring her away.

coming back to amity, i can understand that luz inspired her to actually do something about her abusive parents, and that's sweet. but we never get to see what else amity wanted. since they never established a friendship arc between amity and gus or willow (she apologized to willow, sure, but the rekindling of their relationship happens much later on), all we know is that amity is tired of being abused and she wants to be with luz.

from an abuse victim's perspective, amity standing up against her parents was powerful. but unlike ariel, amity doesn't seem to want anything besides luz. and she never explores what she wants to do, now that she has successfully cut herself away from her mother's influence. her whole life revolves around luz after that.

there was that abomination brawl episode but even that ended up being about luz. the brawl was just a quick montage, it only existed for the emotional drama that came later on. in fact, even when the plot was focused on amity, it was more about her relationship with her father rather than her autonomy and personal interests.

there's a reason why a lot of people liked the mean girl version of amity. she had personality, she had interests and goals, she had CHARACTER. it was all fake and a result of trauma, but it was there and it helped flesh out her character. but after she is redeemed? there's nothing left of the old amity, not even the more positive/neutral traits, and her only personality is "luz's awesome girlfriend".

amity's arc should have been about exploring what she wanted outside of her parents' wishes. abuse often turns you into a shell of a person and recovering from years of trauma isn't as simple as getting a romantic partner. it takes therapy (and that is canonically an option in the boiling isles, let me remind you), it takes self-reflection, it takes giving yourself the permission to choose your own destiny and explore yourself outside of your abusers' expectations.

and amity gets none of this. her trauma and arc was resolved too quickly, even for a show that was cut short. they just gave her a makeover, got her into a relationship with luz and called it a day. the only reason people aren't giving her the ariel treatment is (probably) because lumity is a queer ship.

[doctorbunny]

MILGRAM THEORY: The Girl in the Weakness Drawings

So in Haruka's first song Weakness, we see a variety of crayon drawings he made. Most are characters we already know:

Haruka and his (two faced) mother

Godzilla (no copyright infringement intended)

Snakes and butterflies under a big tree [I have no proof of this but it always invoked the idea of the garden of Eden in me] which also makes an appearance in Undercover on the drawing pad

But there's always been one uncertainty:

Who is this drawing depicting?

This was a heavy point of discussion back in T1 and this post by @mrgoodenough254 suddenly reminded me of the discussion

The conclusion I came to back then is that it must be Haruka, after all he's standing in front of it. It could represent how he views himself now he's older and no longer recieving the attention of his mother. A self loathing monster~

Of course, this wasn't the only explanation, some thought it could be his still unseen father or something else entirely... But having gone back for a second look, I have a good guess

The girl (who might be Haruka's sister but we don't 100% know yet, either way the one he strangles)

First: look at the hair At first I thought it was just messy like Haruka's But the part that would be Haruka's fringe trails lower, and appears to be tied into a green bow. More like a clumsy attempt at drawing how the girl's hair leads into a plait

Second: The colour of the eyes Haruka's eyes are a blue-green. But the drawing has glowing purple eyes Now, we haven't seen the girl's eyes yet. But we do know someone who has a similar colour of purple hair to her. And she has purple-pink eyes

So we can guess this is the girl's eye colour.

Third: the "mermaid's tail" The drawing doesn't specifically have legs, which is part of why I thought it looked like a monster or mermaid

It looks jagged at the bottom and there's a bunch of lines running through it However, whilst in weakness the girl is wearing a nice dress, we know she died in a middle school sailor uniform, which often have longer skirts

(you can tell because of the sailor collar, also look! her plait falls on the same side as the hair in the drawing, this will be important in a second-) This means the lines could represent the skirt folds

Final note: How the girl is drawn The first and most obvious thing to say is how she was drawn to look like a monster, what with her glowy eyes and spiky teeth And this is a common, if childish way siblings who don't get along may depict each other You don't like your brother? Draw him as a big ugly monster!!!

But I think the more interesting thing is everything else: Part of why I thought this was a drawing of Haruka for so long is because behind the hair is blue scribbling, which I figured was just part of the hair However, in weakness we see something else coloured blue

Blood (We know Haruka killed her via strangulation but its possible when she fell back she hit her head on something? Or Haruka just associates death with bleeding) The drawing also shows the arms bent at odd, stiff angles And the neck is long and crooked The 'skirt' is also ripped and covered in something green (grass stains??)

This may not just be a drawing of Haruka's sister But one depicting her death

(artist's rendition)

[sincere1ystar]

Seashore Sweetheart

sailor finnick x mermaid reader au (fluff)

Growing up by the sea Finnick’s heard stories about all sorts of creatures who live down in the abyss called the ocean. He’s heard of fishes, sea monsters and of course mermaids. The mythical creatures that some fear and others are fascinated by never struck much interest with Finnick.

With him being a sailor one would except that Finnick would be familiar with all sorts of creatures that reside within the sea. And he is, he could rant about the different fishes and dolphins he sees on a day to day basis. Maybe a bit about sea monsters too from the stories he’s heard as a young child. But mermaids? He knows everything there is to know about them, who doesn’t? To him, mermaids are just like humans except they have tails instead of legs. They’re simple creatures aren’t they?

Atleast that’s what he thinks before a typical day in the summer where he comes to the docks later than he usually does and all the sailors are already gone for the day.

With everyone already gone leaving him with no work to do, Finnick sits by the shore .The sounds of the waves fill his ears and he can’t help but close his eyes and smile. A feeling of solace washes over him near as the tide comes to shore and washes away all of his worries.

His eyes open suddenly when he hears a splashing noise. With the others gone until evening who could have caused that noise?

“Surely not the fish”, Finnick thinks to himself, “Those little creatures can’t come this close to the shore. No sea animal could. But then what could it be?”

He plays it off as one of the guys playing a prank on him until he catches the sight of a tail. Not just any tail, a mermaid tail.

“It must be the heat getting to me. Mermaids don’t come this close to the surface.. No no it’s just the summer heat making me see things”, he thinks to himself.

The mermaid slowly comes up to shore and her eyes meets Finnick’s. When your eyes meet his, it’s then when Finnick realizes he doesn’t know a single thing about mermaids at all. Yes he’s heard stories about their lucious hair and shiny tails, but he never knew how beautiful one could be.

The other sailors usually describe Finnick as the “charmer” of the group, yet here is in front of the prettiest being he’s ever seen, with his words stuck in his throat.

You on the other hand seem too curious for your own good as you see the tall sailor with tanned skin and with eyes that reminded you of the shells you used to collect when you were a little mermaid.

You’ve heard about humans. You’ve even went as far as to spot a few walking on the sandy beaches, but the way you were looking at him made you realize you’ve never truly took the time to really look at a human before, let alone a man.

Before he can say anything, you cut him right to it as you ask, “Are you really human?”

Usually he would scoff at a silly question like that, but instead he was occupied by the sound of her sweet voice running like honey through his ears. Him and his buddies would laughs about fools who spent their days being captivated by the melodic voices of mermaids, but now it seems like it wasn’t so foolish after all or maybe. Or maybe he too is now a fool, he decides.

“A mermaid… A real mermaid. You are real aren’t you?”, he babbled as he watches you in awe.

“Depends. You’re a real human aren’t you?”, you replied as you study his form.

“Well yes what else would I be? A turtle?”, he remarked.

This causes a laugh from you as you add, “Well I guess that means I’m a real mermaid then”.

After that encounter Finnick finds himself purposefully coming to the docks late to catch a sight of you all while you found yourself just conveniently wanting to get some sun the same time he’s around.

He shows you all sorts of objects that aren’t common in your home in the ocean, or “human inventions” as you would call them. Finnick adores how you treat the mundane things he uses in his everyday life as the most interesting treasures.

You swim down to the deepest parts of the ocean and bring back pearls that are the same shape as his eyes. Other times you bring him objects you’ve found in sunken ships and ask him to identity them for you.

Finnick never would have imagined that he would would fall in love with a mermaid, let alone be friends with one. Yet it seemed to work with you. You would help him open his eyes under water so you could show him little things in the sea he never noticed before and he would carry you in his arms around town giving you a little tour at night when everyone else was sleeping.

On days where you’re apart, you can’t help but think about him. You think to yourself that it would never work out since you’re a mermaid and he’s a human, yet that doesn’t stop you from falling asleep on the chest of a statue you’ve found that reminds you of Finnick.

Sometimes you see him on his ship with the other sailors. You don’t approach him though, just quietly watch as you hide behind a rock. He can’t help but smile as he sees those gorgeous eyes of yours that he dreams about every night.

One night when the two of you are sitting by the shore watching the stars like you always do, Finnick can’t help but admire you in the moonlight.

“You ever wish you had legs instead of a tail?”, he asks softly.

“Sometimes. Only to be closer to you, to relate to you more. Maybe then we would have made an ideal match”, you whisper back in response.

“You’re already perfect. In fact I think you’re it for me, mermaid or human doesn’t matter”, Finnick objected.

Your mind can’t comprehend his words. “He can’t be serious”, you think to yourself. Him, a human sailor who probably already has many girls who would be eager to be with him wants to be with… a mermaid?

“You must be out of your mind”, you chuckle, “My mother was right sometimes humans are a bit mindless”.

“Maybe I am”, he responds simply not leaving any room for argument.

You’re about to give another one of your witty responses like you always do, but then your eyes meet his. Just like when you first met, you can’t help but be mesmerized. It’s then when you realize that you don’t want, no you can’t just let him go. You can’t just have him as some human you occasionally visit, you want to have him in a. different way.

The way Finnick looks at you makes you think he can read your thoughts. “Maybe humans aren’t so stupid after all”, you think as your eyes meet his lips and he takes initiative.

He never thought he would be kissing a mermaid, but when he finally did, he knew your lips were going to haunt him forever. Not like he’d complain though, it’s a small price to pay to spend his days listening to your honeyed laugh at dawn and looking into your dreamy eyes at dusk.

[crystallizsch]

hiii you seem super cool ^-^ your art is very pretty! also ahem listen. i like jamil too but. but what are your thoughts on his overblot form? am i the only one who thinks that it’s really ugly or…

anyways how are you? are you doing okay? i hope you’re having a good day :3

- <3

AAH ANON HI???? that is SO sweet thank you so so much i really appreciate it!! 😭💖💕 and im doing pretty well!! 🥺 it's my first week of summer break so i'm straight up chilling 😤✊

OKAY SO if you would have asked me this when i first saw it, i would have 100% agreed but listen. hear me out ---

i made like a quick sketch without whatever is going on with the head

HIS OVERBLOT OUTFIT IT'S A. IT'S A MERMAID/TRUMPET KINDA DRESS???? (an outfit where it's like form-fitting around the waist and upper legs then flows out the lower it goes) PLUS IT'S OFF-SHOULDER??? I KNOW IT'S JUST A PERSONAL PREFERENCE BUT I LOVE HOW THAT'S HIS OUTFIT??? IT'S JUST MY TYPE SLAY KING -

okay but seriously i get where you're coming from anon!! it's the,,, whole entire head part at least for me,,, like i GET the turban and everything bc it's based on jafar's outfit in the movie and HONESTLY??? i love the idea of his hair being snakes (they're just little guys, lil frens, reminds me of mike wazowski's gf with her hair snakes)

i think the issue is he looks so odd without his (iconic) side bang??? 😭😭😭 and the MAIN thing that i personally dislike is the ink goatee??? it just. i don't like it 😔 i think those parts are what make his overblot form look so off -

honestly everything COULD HAVE worked ;;; like the idea is There but the execution is Not It

also okay alright maybe something about overblots arent supposed to be pretty bc they're in a literal breakdown about to die (<- lying through my teeth bc i love riddle’s ob design and i have a bias for alice in wonderland type designs)