#or even a body that you objectively think is better than most and are scared of ''''ruining'''' by transitioning

[gibbearish]

Hey, I'm a queer teen, male at birth, and took that trans quiz you made a while ago. I saw the @ at the end and thought to reach out. I'm really confused, I just feel wrong, I don't hate my body it's just like I feel like a girl, I really don't know. Most of my friends probably would support me if I was trans, I mean I already came out as bi, and they didn't care, but I don't feel like I can talk to them about this. I really just don't know. Help?

fixed it for you

[fvckednddistvrbed]

i ate a lot today, not as much as other days, but still im disappointed with myself and starting to feel sick. why cant i be good at restriction? god this makes me wanna sh so fucking bad

[nikxlaii]

➽ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓

☁ Pairing: Zhongli x gn!reader

☁ Category: Angst

☁Synopsis: He excludes you every time he's with her, and now he's living with the consequences of his actions, weighed down by their heavy toll.

☁ Note: It looks better in my head, lmao. I got back into writing after school ended. Still preparing for 12th grade, I'm scared. Good luck reading this. Let me know how it goes. 06/12/2024

Do you not see me?

You stood in the field of glaze lilies, the soft night breeze gently caressing your skin, a sense of isolation surrounded you. The silence was deafening, save for the voices of the divine beings before you, talking as if you were not there. It was as if they were lost in the charms of the evening, indifferent to your presence.

You knew that going with Morax was a foolish decision the moment you realized that the God of Dust, Guizhong, would also be there. You shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have gone. But your heart would not permit you to resist the urge to spend time with the man you've always loved, even though it may not have been the wisest course of action.

Despite the sinking feeling in your stomach, you couldn't let the chance of being with him slip through your fingers. Yet as the night wore on, a seed of doubt had started to take root within you, gnawing at your innermost thoughts. You now wish you had the foresight to realize that accompanying Morax wasn't the most commendable choice.

"Here," Guizhong, with a playful glint in her eye, reached down to pluck one of the glaze lilies dotting the ground, a sweet scent filling the evening air. With a sweet smile, she tucked the lily behind Morax's ear. "How nice it looks on you!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with amusement. Morax's eyes softened at Guizhong's sweet gesture as he smiled softly at her, an expression you'd never seen on his face before. It was clear that only Guizhong could bring that soft smile to Morax's stoic face.

You stood there watching them, a silent observer, as they talked to one another. Even what they're talking about is unknown to you, making you feel like nothing more than a passive object in the room. You bore witness to the way the man you loved gazes at her with yearning and adoration—a glance that you wish was aimed at you instead.

The sight was not one to behold, causing a deep and unrelenting pain to well up within the deepest reaches of your emotional being. It was a peculiar feeling that possessed you. It was as if a sense of resentment towards the goddess gradually seeped into your bones, permeating your very essence.

But how can you hate such an innocent god who has never actively done any harm? In particular to you? Nonetheless, deep down you can't help but wish she'd never come into his life. That he had chosen you instead of her, that it was you in his arms, the object of his desire. Yet you know it's a futile dream, for you two are incompatible, you are the god of war while he is the god of contracts, forever parted by the gulf between your natures.

Guizhong, being the epitome of refinement and grace, captivates all who lay eyes on her. Unlike you, the deity of battles, Guizhong was a wise, compassionate, and intelligent god who never harmed a single soul. Conversely, you nevertheless bore the scars of battle on your body. Your skin stained with blood from countless battles. You see why Morax is so captivated by her—she was everything that you weren't.

"Oh, I think it's best I leave for now. Perhaps we can meet another time?" You force the words past your lips, your voice a mixture of hurt and disappointment. You hug your arms tightly to your chest, waiting for a response from either the two of them, only to realize that they don't seem to care about your presence. They're too caught up in their own world, and you're not a part of it. Maybe it's best to leave them be.

That night marked the end of your presence in their lives. It was then that you knew that it was time to move on. You couldn't change the way things were, nor could you force Morax to love you. As difficult as it was, you had to accept that your relationship with him was not meant to be. So, with a heavy heart, you decided to leave, choosing to cut all ties and put the past behind you. It was the only way to find peace and move forward.

-

In a tragic turn of events, the Archon War raged on with no end in sight. The God of Dust lost her life in a fierce battle over the Guili Plains and perished amidst the Glaze Lilies, leaving behind a sea of sorrow in her wake, particularly for Morax. Imagine his grief when he lost her too. He should have known the impending doom that was about to happen, and maybe, just maybe, he would have saved her too. Everything was a massacre.

Despite the passing years, he never ceased his search for you, holding a faint glimmer of hope that you were still alive. Despite giving up his gnosis, his rulership, and the weight of responsibility that he's borne for millennia, his determination to find you remains steadfast. It's as if he's incapable of letting go of the notion that you're still out there, somewhere, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps the gnosis is now in the hands of the Fatui and has become their possession. He continues to look for you without ceasing.

Despite the selfish intentions behind his actions, he continued to search for you over and over again. He knew that he was to blame for your departure, as his behavior had led you to leave his life forever. Nevertheless, he persisted in trying to find you, driven by the guilt and regret that had filled his heart. He struggled to come to terms with the consequences of his actions, and the sadness that weighed upon him only continued to grow. All he could do was hope that somehow, someway, he could make amends.

But...

Would he ever see you again?

☁ Note: Zhongli, you selfish man, jkjk, I love you. No hate towards Guizhong! I love her so much. She's so cute. Who do you think is at fault here? Of course, me! for creating this.

[ectologia]

Tomura Shigaraki is definitely a disgusting and depraved perv when it comes to kinks and fetishes, it's a known fact. I wanna know your ideas for all the fucked up things he's into, illegal or not ^^

KINKS & FETISHES

TOMURA SHIGARAKI EDITION

CONTENT ♱ IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER, THIS IS EXTREMELY MATURE CONTENT WITH A PLETHORA OF KINKS AND FETISHES (INCLUDING NONCON), COMMON OR NOT, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

ACAROPHILIA (AROUSAL FROM SCRATCHING)

Tomura loves the scratchies, we all know that. Whether he’s sad, anxious, frustrated or horny, you can always catch those blunt fingernails digging at his flesh like a dog in a flower patch. And, unsurprisingly, yours too. He likes the way you shudder as he claws down your skin, catching your nipples as he tears down your tits before watching the thin white lines raise into nasty looking red gashes. He’ll even drag his tongue over them to feel the bumps as he wanks.

ANAL TRAINING

Tomura is a disgusting and malicious man, so it should come as no surprise that one of his favourite past times is to see how wide he can stretch your ass open. He’ll make it into a game, timing you, finding different objects (safe or not) to squeeze up your butt, promising you treats and rewards if you can take having your sphincter stretched another 5 centimetres. And if you don’t think that’s a lot, trust, it is. And it’ll hurt. He’ll make sure of it.

ANONYMOUS SEX

Even evil crime bosses such as Tomura can get insecure too. On those days he’s feeling extremely low about himself, whether it be because a mission was unsuccessful or because his skin’s had a flare up and he can barely look at anyone. He’ll resort to skulking around dingy clubs and alleys. He’s not the biggest fan of glory holes, mainly because he’s scared there’ll be a dude on the other side sucking his cock. But he appreciates that he can be as weird or unattractive as he wants and still bust a fat nut into something other than his fist.

BATHROOM CONTROL

We all know Tomura is a control freak. And it just gets freakier when he starts telling you where and when you can go to the toilet. On most days, he’s tame about it. All he asks of you is that you tell him when your bladder’s full and he’ll give you permission to use his toilet. It’s only until he starts wanting to watch you shit and piss while he jerks himself off does it get a little.. worrying. He just finds it so cute when your little body does what it’s supposed to, and it’s even better when he’s the one that gets to be a bossy boots about it.

BREAST + NIPPLE TORTURE

As mentioned before, Tomura likes scratching your nipples. He’s also an avid enjoyer of slapping, pinching, twisting, stretching, biting, flicking and tickling. Really, there’s no actual explanation. He just enjoys watching you writhe in pain.

BREAST + NIPPLE WORSHIP

Equally, on the flip side. Tomura worships your tits, physically and spiritually. He finds them so beautiful, he reckons they’re his favourite part of your body. Romantic, right? He’ll kiss and hug and squish, juggling them in his palms before sucking one into his mouth while caressing the other. He’ll use them as pillows, resting his head on your chest before slipping away into a restful slumber. Probably to dream of even more titties.

CRUROPHILIA (A KINK RELATED TO LEGS)

Legs, legs, legs. Long legs, skinny legs, chubby legs, muscular legs, legs in tights, legs in thigh highs, shaved or unshaved. Tomura loves legs, he’s obsessed with them to some degree. Just the way he can do so much with them. Fold them against your chest, spread them out wide, throw them over his shoulders, or even bind them tight. He just loves legs.

BONUS

If you’re a fast runner, watch out, because Tomura will be chasing you in circles like you’re a gazelle in the savanna. He gets off to it, hardcore.

CUMSHOTS

Tomura will find any excuse to make something into a game. Give him something to aim at and he’ll be shooting semen at you like it’s an FPS. His favourite thing to spunk on is your clit, since it’s such a tiny target he feels almost accomplished when he manages to spit the creamy white liquid right on the little bud. (Before getting to lick it off)

FACE FUCKING

Who doesn’t love a nice, rough face fuck? Tomura definitely does. Tomura treats all your holes like sex toys, and your mouth is just another. He’s a hard, deep and fast fuck, using your hair like reins as he shovels his length all the way down your throat and back up again. He’s like a greyhound, once he starts he can’t stop. So what if you just threw up on his dick? He’s not done until he’s done.

FACE SITTING

Not in the way you think. He’s the one doing the sitting ‘round here darling. He’ll use it as a punishment, squatting over your face with his filthy asshole puckering and scrunching over your lips, Oh, what, you think it’s gross? Good. You better get used to the view of his hairy ass crack, baby, because you’re gonna’ be here a while.

FOOT FETISH

Perhaps the most common and well known of Shiggy’s fetishes, he’s a feet connoisseur. Manicured toes, soft soles and high heels are what he dreams of at night. Pumping his dick between a pretty girl’s smooth arches, legs bent with her steaming hot pink pussy nestled right between them? Hell yeah. He’ll alternate between worshiping your feet and having you worship his. He sucks your toes, you suck his back. It’s a 50/50 relationship.

BONUS

Though Tomura’s obsession is mainly sexual, he’ll massage your feet as an act of service purely because it’s his love language.

MACROGENITALISM

Some men like the pretty, pink pristine vulvas, the hairless ones with barely-there, tucked away labias and tiny clits you can barely get at. Some men aren’t Tomura. He wants it hairy, messy and sloppy. He wants to nestle his face between your bush and suffocate himself with the coarse hairs, he wants to gnaw and pull on your beautiful labia with his teeth and lick through every fold and crevice like he’s an explorer. He likes the women with big, gorgeous clits and fat, chunky cunts, and he won’t have anything less.

NONCON

He likes the way you scream and plead. How your guttural wails and ear piercing shrieks dull and splinter into pitiful whimpers. How your eyes mist into glassy, shiny goggles the moment he pulls the sluggish length of his manhood out and slaps it up and down on your tiny, twitchy clit. Back hunched as he places a boney finger to his lips, shushing and cooing at you as you heave through grit teeth when he splits into your folds. His big, bulbous cock head juts in and out with a slick pop as he pummels you into a shakey, traumatised little mess, pumping you full with his seed, wether you want it in your little womb or not.

PEODEIKTOPHILIA (PENIS FLASHING)

Though it sounds sinister, Tomura finds it positively hilarious. He likes to see that momentary, adorably shocked, deer-in-headlights look on your face when he drops his waistband for just a second, giving you an eyeful of his big, floppy cock and balls. Whether you’re on your own or with people, outside or inside. He’s incredibly sneaky and an all around menace. Walking past while you’re tucked into bed? He’ll wipe his clammy dick on your face along the way. Having a conversation with someone? He’ll slip his squishy pink head out of his boxers and thumb the slit with a cheeky grin. Brushing your teeth? He’ll chase you around the bathroom with his balls hanging out. Just know, he does it because he loves you. You’re his best friend.

QUIROFILIA (HAND FETISH)

Tomura likes pretty hands. Long, lithe fingers with manicured nails and soft knuckles. A stark contrast to his huge, calloused and, not to mention, destructive ones. He’ll kiss and caress the delicate appendages before demanding you wrap them around his cock, stacked atop one another as you stroke his prick up and down, foreskin clicking stickily as his balls jiggle against his thighs until he inevitably climaxes, coating your sweet fingers in the syrupy substance of his love.

SOMNOPHILIA (ENGAGING IN SEXUAL ACTIVITY WITH SOMEBODY THAT IS ASLEEP OR UNCONSCIOUS)

It can be for various reasons, the main one being you’re too tired to deal with him, so he just takes matters into his own hands. He’ll spread your pussy and eat it from the back as much as it takes until he can slip inside you nice and easy. Bouncing your unconscious self against the mattress with his dick nestled tightly inside your syrupy walls, while you stay tucked into bed all cosy and warm. See? It’s a win win situation.

WATERSPORTS

Similar to Tomura’s “bathroom control” kink, Tomura just really likes piss. Wether you’re squirting in his mouth after getting finger banged within an inch of your life, or you’re on your knees with your tongue out waiting for him to give you a hot, steamy golden shower, he really doesn’t care. As long as at least one of you are drenched in piss by the end of it.

A TOTAL OF 17 KINKS THAT I COULD THINK OF (BUT I’M SURE THERE’S MORE)

[yesimwriting]

Study Break

a/n halloween drabble <333 i wrote this while kind of sad so if it's bad that's why <3

Summary: Final-girl verse fic!! You want to catch up on homework before Halloween, unfortunately your best friends have other plans

----

Whoever decided to make October one of the most academically crucial months of the year was definitely not a teenage girl.

You sigh, attention shifting away from your textbook and towards the fabric hanging on your closet's door handle. The dress, a pale pink thing that you'll definitely regret wearing the second the late-fall chill settles over the night, is the main part of your costume. A costume the world may never see if you don't finish studying for your history test.

The thought of the totally unacceptable brings you back to reality. You turn your head, forcing yourself to reread a passage on the Treaty of Paris.

After familiarizing yourself with some familiar names, you pick up an orange highlighter--which is the closest you've come to being seasonally festive--as your study mix CD begins to play a new song. The soft notes that make up the intro are cut off by a sharp click.

It's not horrifying, but you can feel your back straighten out of instinct. Your back presses into your desk's chair. You turn your head slowly.

The door to your bedroom is open, but there's nothing to be scared of in the doorway. "Guys."

Stu grins at the recognition. "Your mom let us in." He moves his hand away from your CD player before letting his arm fall to his side. "We wanted to scare you."

Despite knowing better, you let the corner of your mouth pull itself upwards. "Well then I'm completely terrified."

"Good." Stu steps further into your room, approaching your dresser. He picks up a tube of lip gloss you keep forgetting to reunite with the rest of your makeup. "Festive." He twists the tube's lid--back and forth, almost fully off and almost fully on. "Now let's keep that up and go."

You blink. Stu's sudden shifts don't surprise you as much as they used to, but you still haven't figured out how to keep up. "Go?"

Billy straightens, his body shifting away from the doorway. "The movie theatre's playing the first Halloween."

Oh. It's the kind of thing you'd usually love to be invited to. "It sounds fun," you keep your voice light, doing your best to keep your tone enthusiastic enough to convey that you do want to go without coming off as overly chipper, "But there's this history test on Friday."

Stu stills, his fingers pausing against the lipgloss tube. You tap your nails against your knee. There's objectively nothing wrong with what you've said--the three of you didn't have any pre-established plans and they didn't even call ahead to ask if you were free. But saying 'no' to them almost always makes something in your stomach knot. It's not guilt exactly, but it's an uneasy enough feeling that you do your best to avoid it.

"Yeah, your mom mentioned something." Billy steps forward.

You frown at the thought of your mom making you sound a lot lamer than you really are. You're too old to be embarrassed by your study habits, but it doesn't mean you need them advertised. "Yeah?"

"She said to see if we have better luck pulling your head out of that textbook than she did." For a second, you think Billy might be smiling, but he turns his head too quickly for you to be sure. You narrow your eyes at him as he approaches your CD player. He presses play, letting the next song on your CD finally start.

An uncomfortable warmth begins to crawl up your neck. "I..." You busy yourself with placing the cap back onto your highlighter. "I have a schedule."

Stu walks towards your bed. He sits down with a much too heavy sigh. "You always have a schedule."

"Not true."

Your defense is immediately countered, "Kind of true."

You twist in your seat, neck craning in an attempt to look at Billy. He briefly holds your stare before letting his chin dip downwards, his eyes focusing on your floor. "You guys are being dramatic, I just want to do good on this one test."

"Come on." Stu's pulled your fluffy pillow onto his lap. "You study more than anyone I know." He drags his nails against the pillow, flattening tufts of synthetic hair. "You're gonna be fine."

With a sigh, you turn your attention back to your open textbook. You have been reviewing the first few units for days now... "I just..." You don't know how to make it make sense. You know that you study and that you try and that realistically you're not going to permanently damage your GPA, but it's not easy to let go of. "Worry, I guess."

Stu lifts his head. "Then you need someone to distract you." He combs his fingers through the pillow's fluff. "You don't want to end up like Jack."

It only takes you a second to realize that he's talking about the Shining. You fight against a smile, pressing your lips together in an attempt to seem neutral. "Pretty sure he had other things going on."

"Actually," Billy starts, "I think in the original draft it was a history test that drove him crazy."

"Very funny." With a sigh, you push your seat back, moving to stand, "Let's play it safe and not risk it."

Stu grins, moving your pillow off of your lap before standing. He's next to you before you can even think to step away from your desk. "You should always listen to us, babe." He places a hand on your shoulder. "We know best."

You roll your eyes at the comment, but let him guide you forward anyway. "Don't start."

"Ignore him." Billy pauses your music before stepping towards the door. "He bought Halloween candy today and he's already had more than half the bag."

You're not surprised. "Makes sense."

Something sharp presses into your shoulder--the pressure just pointed enough to be noticeable. Did he just--"Stu!" You turn your head towards Billy. "He pinched me."

Billy turns just enough to glare at Stu. "Really?"

"She's being dramatic." As if to prove his point, Stu makes a show of smoothing his hand against your shoulder. "And you can't let her get away with everything just because she's pretty."

You're used to Stu's compliments, but this one was sudden and indirect enough to take you by surprise. You're too distracted by the warmth crawling up your neck to say anything.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Yeah okay actually. Here is an unfinished story I uploaded onto Patreon back in 2021. I think I hit the same notes but better with Lullaby for Lambs, let me know if it's salvageable at all.

Reader x Unknown non-human. 8000-ish words.

You only tried escaping once.

It was just after you woke up  within a cave formation, head aching and lungs burning. Everything hazed  over in an aura of fanaticism, your vision blurry and mind unhinged.  You became a being of only instinct, the all-encompassing need to  protect and flee becoming your sole goal, all semblance of thought  beyond bite, maim, kill no longer keeping your morals in check. You screamed and you flailed, scratching at the beings immediately perceived as threats, blood and scales caking beneath your fingernails.

You  didn’t make it very far, running and crying and shrieking at anyone  brave enough to approach, cracking a porcelain vase for a makeshift  shiv. The hallways in the system are long, but at the moment, you felt  like you were wandering a maze for a short eternity. The light didn’t  seem right, flowing and filtering through the air as though its only  source was a couple of shoddy projectors. Even as you stumbled through  the strangely curving hallways, hostage in the crook of your arm, you  couldn’t seem to make your eyes focus on any singular object.

Everything  hurt, your teeth, your chest, your feet, the air so cold your jaw  quaked despite how hard you clenched it. You barely even remembered who  you were, just that this was wrong and these people were enemies and you needed to escape, go, run, leave.

“Let  me out,” you half screamed, half choked, to anyone within earshot.  Tears, blood, and snot dripped down your face, droplets of the ungodly  mixture landing atop your bare feet.

Your hostage said something  you could barely understand, in a voice far more calm and soothing than  someone in his position. His words echoed and pulsed in your ears,  equally far and somehow unbearably close at the same time.

“Let me out,” you said again, chest heaving and voice warbling with sobs.

“I  can’t do that,” he was saying, hand reaching up to the hand that you  hold your shard of ceramic in. Even as you pressed it dangerously deeper  into his throat, he petted your arm in soft, gentle gestures.

“Someone else can,” you meant it as a threat, but it sounded more like a whimpering plea.

“They  really can’t.” The only sign of distress he showed was a soft wheeze of  breath when you pushed the shiv further into his skin. “But you’re  going to be okay.”

“Fuck yo-” just when you felt like your focus  was finally sharpening, your surroundings finally in full view,  everything exploded with black. It was a blow too fast and furious for  you to track, right within your blind spot.

Your captors wanted to kill you, apparently.

For  the spectacle of your attempt, that is. Most humans immediately try to  escape, apparently, but your captors weren’t adequately prepared for  someone with your grit and tenacity. These assholes wanted to let you  out, just like you wanted, into the crushing pressure of the deep sea,  to watch your bones crack and crumble. As an example for anyone else  trying to leave, to burn fear into their hearts and keep your people  docile.

They should have.

“You were scared,” your hostage  said, no longer threatened by your shiv, with an infuriatingly gentle  expression on his face, “I forgive you.”

You wanted to jump over the table and strangle him because you aren’t fucking sorry, but you bore the humiliation with stony silence.

“That’s  why I want to help you have a second chance,” he said, seemingly  completely unaware of your bloodlust. A small cut on his neck taunted  you with how close you almost got to killing him. “So you will be my  wife.”

At first, the final part of the statement didn’t even  register. You blink. It hits. And… you couldn’t help but scoff, a loud,  angry snort escaping your body before you could tamper it back down. But  the statement and the way he said it so calmly and absolutely was absurd, you lost control of your own body for a moment. Be his wife, is he insane?

With a single gesture, he stops his guards from striking you without even glancing at them. His entire focus was on you.

“You’re very strong,” he said, “and I admire that.”

You didn’t respond.

“I  need you to be strong for me,” he continued, as though soothing a wild  animal. “This place and my station aren’t one for the weak, but you’ve  shown me that you are more than capable of handling brutality.”

“You like how I almost killed you?” You asked, voice strained and completely devoid of any restraint.

The edges of his mouth curve up into an almost-smile, his teeth sharpened and numerous. “You will thrive here, dearest.”

Jaime,  he asked you to call him. Tall and wiry, head of black hair, and skin  tinged oddly green even when he plays human. You already know that he’s  not; you’ve seen him before, covered in scales with claws sharp enough  to kill a man. That’s why he was so impossibly relaxed during  your initial rampage; the self-assuredness of his own strength  counteracted the fear you had so desperately tried to instil in him.

He comes to visit you more often than you would like, especially during the days leading up to your wedding. He wants you involved, as though that somehow makes everything better, despite the fact it’s  essentially a brightly decorated band-aid on a gaping wound.

“Colors?” The wedding planner asked again, louder, and Jamie gently taps at your hand.

You blink back into existence, trying to anchor your disassociating soul on the samples of fabric on the table. “For what?”

No one dares misbehave while he is present, so the planner puts up a facade of understanding. “For the wedding dress, my lady.”

It takes you a moment to process what she says, the word wedding falling meaninglessly onto your ears. Instead, you try to focus on the word dress, pulling yourself back to reality by pretending to look at… like a prom,  or maybe a ball dress. Some kind of college formal to celebrate a  long-sought-after degree. You swallow tightly and run your fingers over  the materials to see what they would feel like.

“This one,” you decide, hoping it would at least look good against your very human skin.

No  disapproving clicks, no shaking head of disappointment, only absolute  subjugation. The design came a lot smoother; you picked a shape you  remember seeing on Pinterest once, on an infographic about what dress  designs best suit different body types. Then you curl up into yourself,  trying to steady your anxious blood by planning.

You won’t be able  to escape the traditional way, so to speak. After the snide remarks of  some kind of attendant, you know you’re too deep within a body of water  to swim up on your own with no special equipment. That means you have to  figure out how you got here and then how you can get out. There has to  be something like a submarine, or some kind of gear… or even magic, you  suppose.

“The delegates from the neighboring realms already agreed  to come,” the wedding planner says, ignoring how you pinch the bridge  of your nose and stare blankly at the windows. “With the number of  people wanting to come to witness the ceremony, I estimate a few  thousand to attend the reception.”

You choke.

Jaime looks you over with concern.

“Can  I talk to you? Privately?” You feel yourself wake up again, like from a  nightmare. Everything goes from blurry to sharp, your body’s need to  protect itself shoving adrenaline through your bloodstream. Already you  feel like this will be a physical altercation, even though Jaime never  once raised his hand at you.

In that infuriatingly calm tone, he  dismisses the staff. You hate how everyone jumps at his beck and call,  how they scurry off and hide with the faintest flick of his hand, only  to return the moment he calls. As though they wait just outside the  door, always listening despite the illusion of being alone.

“I can’t do a big wedding,” you say, “I actually can’t do a wedding at all.”

Jaime sighs, then rubs his hair. “This has to be a bit of a spectacle.”

“Why?” You cross your arms and try to bite back the bile building in the back of your throat.

He  opens his mouth but quickly closes it, allowing any frustrations he has  to flow off him like a rock in a river. That’s one of the things you’ve  come to hate about him the most- how fucking patient with you he  is. Even now, when you put up as much resistance to every little thing  you can be mentally present for, he goes with whatever direction you  take him and ignores what he can’t change.

“You know I’m important,” he says, a conversation the both of you have had before.

“I  can’t do crowds.” You mean it, too; the idea of performing like a  lovey-dovey baby in front of the thousands promised by the planner makes  you feel nauseous.

He looks you over again, deep in thought, mouth in a thin, straight line. “I don’t think my family will like this.”

“Will  your family prefer to deal with someone kicking and screaming?” You  ask, crossing your arms stubbornly. “Because I’ll fight. I will fight  you all the way up the aisle, all the way through whatever kind of  ceremony you have. I will kick, and I will scream and give people  something to talk about.”

He lets out a sigh, like you’re nothing more than a tantruming child. “We’ve talked about this-”

“You’ve  talked, I’ve listened, but I never agreed to anything.” You feel anger  rising up through your veins. “You think you can control me? You think  you can keep me locked up like an animal, that I’ll bend to your every  whim?”

Jaime watches you for a moment, then shakes his head.

“A  smaller ceremony.” You lean back in your chair. “As little people as  possible, I don’t want to deal with more than… a dozen or two of you  people.”

“Our people,” Jaime says, almost exasperated but still without a trace of anger. “Our people, now.”

You ignore the last part. “Here’s the deal: we have a smaller ceremony, and I pinky swear not to cause any trouble.”

“Pinky swear?” He sounds more baffled than annoyed.

“Super  fucking serious promise,” you say, entirely over having to explain  every minute detail of your life previous to being kidnapped. You hold  out your hand, pinky up, trying not to look murderous. “No screaming, no  running, no… having sex with your best friend the night before. Or  whatever.”

Slowly, he mimics the action, placing his elbow on the  table. You wrap your pinky around his, holding it there for a moment,  then pull your hand back like the physical contact burned.

And you  keep that promise. You even manage to participate in the rest of the  planning for the day, pinching yourself beneath the table to stay  present in the moment. At dinner, you refrain from making any stabbing  attempts, picking at your food with barely any appetite. A partial  victory, one you shouldn’t be too proud of, but still. You can’t help  but feel like you just gained an inch, leaving you open to take a mile.

Your  hair has grown out, and with all sharp objects prohibited, you can’t  play with the style out of boredom. You tug and pull at the strands,  trying to keep track of time based on how long it’s become. Two inches per month, you remember reading, using your fingers as a makeshift measurement. Thumbs are typically two inches, right? You bite the skin of your lip until you taste blood, pick at the skin around your fingernails until they’re raw and red.

Not  one of the attendants are brave enough to take care of you the same way  you witness them coddle other captives. Jaime is the one who rubs  cooling salves on your fingers, dares to dab your lips with thick fat.  He sits with you, sometimes, looking over some kind of holographic  tablet, reading words you can’t comprehend. These are the times when you  start building a scope of just how much trouble you’re really in.

“How  many other humans do you take?” The first and most important question  answers how many friends you might have in the future.

He looks you over as though gauging your mental state before answering. “Not many.”

“What the hell is not many?” You’re already losing your temper, and you’ve barely spat out more than six words. “Like five? Thirty? A hundred?”

“Every  few generations,” he says, clearly thinking over how best to answer  without setting you off further, “the gene pool needs to be replenished,  so introducing new people helps keep this nation strong.”

You can’t even believe what you’re hearing. Who- what… the fuck? It takes every ounce of self-control you hold in your body not to jump  up and tackle him. Deep breaths. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He looks back down at his work. “Forty-six.”

“That’s specific,” you narrow your eyes, “how do you know the number?”

Even  though you are trying your best to exasperate him, he remains unfazed.  “Because I saw...” he seems to ponder his wording very meticulously,  “the lists.”

“The lists,” you echo.

“We don’t like to use the word abduction,” he says, ignoring your dangerous tone, “I was allowed to have second…  preference over the replanted people, and that’s when I saw the count.”

“And you liked my genetics?” You scoff, cracking your knuckles with one hand.

He  pauses for a moment, then shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to choose  you, truth be told. But then you tried to kill me, and I found that fire  preferable to quaking fear.”

You stand, and to his credit, he  doesn’t even flinch. He even motions for the guard at the door to lower  his weapon as you grind out, “do you think this is cute? Am I some kind of challenge for you?”

“Cute?” He laughs. Laughs at the notion, you would feel insulted by the blatant disregard of the  personality trait if it were anyone else. “No. I don’t think you’re  cute, or someone easy to control. That’s why I want you, because you’re  not to be manipulated by false promises and glamour.

You remain  silent, biting at your lower lips again, trying to figure him out.  Manipulation? Really? Even though you furrow your brows and think about  it hard, you don’t remember Jaime pulling any off, creepy gestures  though. So you try to settle back and figure him out.

“Have I lied to you?” He asks, sensing an opening.

“Not that I know of,” you are chagrin to admit, feeling your breathing tighten.

“But  think about it for a moment,” he continues, easy as can be, “wouldn’t  it be easier for me to lie to you? To tell you that you can go back home  after a little while?”

Would you have believed him if he tried?  Maybe. Maybe you would have sniffed out the lie long before it even  becomes obvious you wouldn’t be returned.

Jaime seems to sense  your silence as compliance. “That’s what most of the males do, by the  way, to make their human wife’s settle in and be docile. Lie until their  tongues bleed and the hope dies from their eyes. I could have done the  same, but I won’t do you the disrespect.”

He wants you to ask him,  but the prideful part of you wants to let him drown in silence. The  curious part of you wins, though, and you finally grit out, “so why  didn’t you?”

“Because I want you to trust me.” He pushes the two sides of the holographic pad together until it collapses in a crisp snap. “And for there to be trust, a foundation of honesty must be laid.”

“Am  I supposed to think that I’m special?” You sneer, rage and anger  filling your blood. “That I somehow won the spousal lottery in the  kidnapping sex slave industry? Thank you so much for doing the bare  minimum a relationship calls for, your grace. I deeply appreciate it.”

No  anger, how does he do it? If you were in his position, you would have  smashed your own face in with an ashtray by now. But Jaime maintains a  cool and calm composer, his voice not even raising a single decibel.  “Think about it. I’m trying to establish you as an equal, dear. I want  you to rule with me, not against me.”

Rule? The notion of  you being in charge of anything is so ludicrous you almost scream with  frustration and laughter. Still, he remains serious, refusing to break  eye contact, his posture infinitely more relaxed than yours. Despite the  fact you’re pretty sure to be the source of his dark, pronounced  circles beneath his eyes, everything else about him is pristine. His  black uniform is trimmed and fitted to the point you can trace his body  through his clothes, combat boots so shiny you can see your haggard  reflection through them. At the moment, he is everything you are not,  clean, clipped, and beautiful, well-groomed to the point it hurts to  look at him. Surely he’s joking.

“I’m not an equal, though,” you  spit out, crossing your arms harder over your chest. “The power  imbalance is so gaping we might as well be separated by a chasm.”

“Power  imbalance?” He asks, as though tasting the way the words in his tone.  Not like he doesn’t believe you, but more like he also thinks he might  have a chance to convince you otherwise.

You turn to the guard,  eyeing him up and down. The fact you managed to get the upper hand in  your initial fight through the base seemed to make whoever assigns  stations be extra cautious. The creature- thing, fish-man, whatever they  want to call themselves, is fucking enormous. Thick, juicy arms,  muscles and bone prime for crushing rebellious little twits. He even  towers over Jaime, a foreboding and memorable presence that has stuck  to your side every moment of every day, hand falling onto his baton if  you so much as scratch your ass unexpectedly. Almost too easily, he can  lift you up, which he typically does by the scruff of your neckline  whenever he finds you lingering too long in one area.

“Please leave,” you say, trying to keep your voice even.

The guard doesn’t move, remaining stoic.

You turn back to Jaime, gesturing towards the door with exasperated movement.

He  thinks for a moment, hands tapping at his bottom lip, then nods at the  guard, who hesitates before leaving the room. Once the two of you are  alone, Jaime prods, “satisfied?”

“Absolutely not,” you refrain  from snapping, though, because it’s still a step in the right direction.  “He’s not going to listen to me when you’re not present, so that still  doesn’t count.”

Jaime leans back, arm stretched out over the  couch, green eyes narrow in thought. After a few moments, he sighs,  waving his hand towards the ceiling as though something can’t be helped. “He’s for your own safety as well.”

“But mostly for babysitting me, like I’m a problematic toddler.”

“No,” Jaime definitely speaks to you like you’re one, though, “just as someone who tried to assassinate a prince.”

You glare.

He’s  unmoving for a moment, then sighs. “I’ll tell him not to follow you  into your room if you swear not to try to kill me again.”

“You’d deserve it, though,” you say under your breath.

“Swear, love,” he prods, “maybe another one of those pinky ones.”

You wait for a beat, unsure of how to react to a grown adult referring to the pinky swear with utmost seriousness. Eventually, though, you raise your right hand,  rolling your eyes. “I pinky swear not to try to kill you… unless you  try to kill me first. Then it’s fuck-all and survival of the fittest.”

He  listens to your wording, head cocked, but seems to accept it without  any argument. Scooching forward just enough to wrap his pinky around  yours, he says, “I’ll tell Rodrick to keep his distance.”

“Good.”

He waits, clearly expecting something.

You  hate how he acts like you have to thank him for any decibel of freedom  he offers, so you lean back and offer nothing. A few moments tick by,  with nothing but the heating system gently whirring against the floor.

“We should have dinner together,” he says, as though the thought has never occurred to him.

“We’ve  had dinner together before,” you say, remembering all the times you’ve  had to be restrained from harming him. It was still early on when you  saw nothing but red and heard thunderous screaming in your ears.

“Not in public,” he responds, “not officially. I haven’t introduced you to society yet.”

“I doubt your society is ready for me,” you say, with absolutely no intention of behaving.

“We are in agreement on that,” he says, completely solemnly, “but I believe we are thinking of different reasons as to why.”

You bite your tongue down to keep from asking why, you don’t fancy it when he can manipulate the conversation in his own favor. Flattery, unfortunately, works regardless if you like the speaking party or not. You need to be  careful not to get too comfortable. Instead, you try to close in on  yourself, shutting the door on him. “If you’re thinking about hosting  some kind of party where I’m the center of attention, fuck off.”

“I’m  thinking about a simple dinner, just you and me, maybe in a public  restaurant.” He cocks his head slightly, opening his tablet again. “Not  necessarily in a crowded area, though, I can make sure we have some  privacy.”

“Without Rodrick?” You prod, refusing to relax even though the guard is no longer present.

“I can’t promise that,” he assents, “but so long as you refrain from any violence, it will be like he isn’t present at all.”

You think about it, completely unsure.

“I  pinky swear,” Jaime remains entirely solemn, “to make the dinner as  pleasant and quick as you wish it to be. My only purpose is to slowly  integrate you back into public spheres.”

Integrate, like  you’re some kind of wild animal he has been slowly taming. The sentence  and the weak-ass promises are what really bother you, so fucking sure of  himself and his so-called methods. But it’s okay, you also can play the  long game. You can’t hurt him today, tomorrow, or even a year from now,  but you can wait until the opportunity arises. Strike when he least  expects it. So you reach your pinky finger out once more, wrapping it  around his blue-tinged skin and nod in agreement.

“I don’t want to be out for too long,” you say, the idea of being scrutinized is too sickening to think about.

“Done.”  He says. “I’ll have someone tailor a cocktail dress for you. I will  instruct your guard to stay out of your room if you request it, but that  hinges on the fact you will not be a danger to yourself or the  seamstress.”

Again, the child-like treatment. “Okay.”

He waits for a beat, like he wants you to say something else, but gives up. “Goodnight.”

“Bye.”

__________________________

True to Jaime’s word, Rodrick stays out of sight, but not out of  mind. You’re well aware that you’re being monitored somehow, either  through cameras or just really well-hidden servants. Now that you at  least have the illusion of privacy, you allow yourself to fidget a lot  more than previously, pacing across the large, clear window that looks  out to the churning sea. While your room is large and spacious, it’s  just that; empty, and you have been exercising just from walking laps  against the walls. After counting your steps once out of boredom, you’re  sure that it’s almost four times larger than your first studio  apartment.

When the seamstress comes, she brings a foldable screen  for you to hide behind when you change, which is more than welcome.  Every single day you’ve been poked at and prodded and scrutinized until  you want to scream blood; this small gesture almost causes you to cry  with relief. But you don’t; you decide that looking strong in front of  strangers will at least ingratiate yourself to Jaime.

Arms  outstretched, allowing the seamstress to preen and fold and sew while  you scheme. You don’t want Jaime to like you because you believe in some  sickening happy ending, but you understand a fundamental thing about  people, fish-like or not. When you love someone, you want the best for  them, which for you would be on the surface. It’s not a guarantee that  he might bend like that, but a fallback plan that sits with many others.

Still, tactful manipulation might be what saves your life in this instance.

Once the seamstress is gone and you’ve picked at your cuticles until the skin around your nails is a bloody mess, Jaime returns.

“I’ve  heard you had a good day today,” he says, taking a strip of gauze and  begins the task of bandaging your wounds. When you don’t answer, he  continues. “I also had a good day. Everything at work went smoothly, and  there haven’t been any issues with the wedding plans thus far. It  probably helps that the wedding is so small.”

You squint at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you need to be involved,” he dips your fingers in a bowl of water, “and that means I should tell you about my day.”

You scrunch up your nose but say nothing.

“You’ll  meet my secretary, Leelah soon enough,” he continues, opening the jar  of sweet-smelling salve, “but she’s exceptionally skilled at her job.  Makes running things smoother.”

“Running the underwater nation,” you clarify, leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on the table.

“Yes,” he says, “the underwater nation you are now a member of.”

“I got that part,” you snap, then take a deep, calming breath. “I’m trying to show interest in what you do.”

“Oh,”  his eyes lighten up marginally, and he squares his shoulders. “Well,  today I was in a meeting discussing the distribution of funds across  public necessities.”

Already you feel your eyes twitching to roll, but you manage to squeeze out an, “oh really? How did that go?”

He  frowns as though trying to spot some kind of underhanded trick up your  sleeve. You have none, though, other than making him comfortable enough  so you can have some breathing room. “It was uneventful.”

“Okay,”  you say, crossing your arms and retreating yourself. The rest of the  hour is spent in dead silence; you don’t even offer any goodbyes when he  leaves like that single conversation took everything out of you.

When  he says goodbye, he places a hand on the back of your head, fingers  slowly working through the steadily growing strands. You try your best  not to recoil.

The planned dinner date, unfortunately, turns out not to be atrocious.

Your  dress fits you like a glove, your waist tight and your breasts  prominent. As you scratch at your arms and play with your hair, Jaime  zips you up, careful to pull the dress away from your skin as he does  so. You don’t take the arm he offers when you leave, but instead, stick  as closely as you can without touching him.

You get stares, but  most of them look away the moment you glare back for more than a few  seconds. You wonder if it’s your outfit. The unfamiliar hairstyle. The  uncomfortable aura pulsating out from your body. So many people are  giving you sideways glances when not outright gawking, but you realize  after hopping into a glass tube that they’re essentially looking through you, directly to Jaime.

You  stare out the window at the sea, mostly seeing your reflection lit up  against the glass. The sand is black, you realize, chewing on the bottom  of your lip as the tube thunks</> out of its station. Your  body jolts forward at the pressure of speed applies, but you brace your  feet to the floor and sit back, so you don’t fall.

Below your feet, a city rushes by, lights and towers  buried beneath another layer of glass and water. You can see through the  distortion a collective of other tubes, a train running adjacent with  your ride until there’s a sharp right turn.

Eyes glued to the transparent floor, you ask, “Is this how you people typically get around?”

He seems to bristle at the use of you people, but doesn’t try to correct it anymore. “The private chambers are for higher ranking officers and emergency trips.”

The  restaurant is mostly empty, and you are instantly relieved. You allow  Jaime to lead you through the dome, the floor a sparkling crystal, and  the walls only sporting a few narrow windows. You can’t tell where the  light comes from, the floors? Ceiling? Walls? There seems to be a dull  glow permeating the smooth transitions between the atrium and dining  area, and as a waiter leads you to a quiet, secluded corner, and you  settle in, no mean words, no snide comments, no stabbing incidents.

Slowly,  you look over your shoulder, noticing through your blind rage that the  waitress looked… like Jaime. As in, not human. Humanoid, yes, but with  the kind of rippling, scaled skin that shimmers in the light. Perplexed,  you turn over to Jaime, “why don’t you try knocking up the ladies  already here?”

He glances over at the long-haired, graceful creature, then turns back to you. “She can’t have children.”

You arch your eyebrows. “That’s a large thing to accuse someone of.”

“It’s  true,” he says, shrugging, “all the women of our kind can no longer  reproduce with us. It will only take three generations removed from  their human mother before your descendants will be the same.”

You gawk. Gawk, at both the expectation for you to have his grandchildren, paired with the tragedy of mass infertility on a scale you can barely comprehend. “But the men can reproduce just fine?”

“Yes,” he says, though the tone of the obviousness of the answer is thick in his voice.

Can’t you fix it, you don’t ask, knowing full well that someone somewhere probably worked  themselves to death over this. You don’t want to ask about the men of  your kind- you don’t remember seeing any when you woke up. You pick up  the menu, a thin film of plastic that shimmers and glitches as if alive  between your fingers. At first, you only see a mishmash of what looks  like thick gibberish, but the words quickly rearrange themselves into a  readable script.

Seafood, all of it, with words and species of  fish and mollusks you don’t even recognize. You squint, trying to suss  out the other ingredients to figure out what the dish might be like.  Sweet? Savory? Spicy? You try to extrapolate what you might be in the  mood based on the words you can actually read. A part of you wants to  give up and let Jaime order, but you’re far too stubborn to lean on him  for anything more at this point.

When the waitress comes back, you  manage to force your voice to speak, almost like you have to strain the  air from your lungs to communicate. Everything is filled with a thick  haze, and you can’t even look her in the eye when you almost mumble what  you want, pointing to the menu in case she can’t understand what you  are sure is barely a wispy breath.

When she leaves, you slump back  into the chair, almost completely exhausted from that single encounter  with a stranger. Your fingers are pale and clammy, mouth twitching  uncontrollably; you have to do your breathing exercises for the first  time in a long while before your body shifts from flight or flight.

“Are you feeling overwhelmed?” Jaime has the audacity to ask.

But  it’s okay, you’re zen. You are one hundred percent filled with inner  peace right now, so while that might have annoyed you twenty minutes  ago, now you are definitely not thinking about reaching over and  slamming his face down onto the table. The spirit within your chest is  filled with so much zen that you are overflowing with the stuff.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to get your chakras or whatever to pass some more of that zen stuff around.

“You’re doing good,” he says, as though his words of encouragement mean anything to you.

You  cross your arms, legs spread in the dress, in the most unladylike way  you possibly can. That doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest,  though, despite the fact his very posture emulates that of a pretty  princess. His back is straight, even when he leans over slightly to rest  his chin on his hand. Even when he does that, though, his fingers are  poised in a way that screams nothing but elegance.

He clears his throat, glancing up at the ornaments surrounding the ceiling. “What did you think of the selections?”

“I didn’t understand half of it,” you mutter, tracing the odd tableware with your eyes.

His brow furrowed in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly. “Did it not translate to your native tongue?”

“Most of it, but what the fuck is a- uh-” you try to remember the most prominent word, “ashtaroff?”

He  blinks, slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “A fish that grows in  the upper section of the ocean, nearer to the surface.”

“Never heard of it,” you say, wishing you could lean back in your chair just a little bit more.

“Odd,”  he says, “well, we are in a dangerous area where the surface currents  are volatile. Fishing boats likely would not wish to risk the dangers.”

That  makes a bit of sense, but something about how he behaves towards the  question raises a red flag. You don’t know what exactly it could mean,  yet… but just to be safe? “You aren’t feeding me human beings, are you?”

He  balks at that, mouth opening and then shutting like he has no idea what  to even say to that accusation. He even has to take a moment, fingers  pinching at his nose, before answering. “No, we are not feeding you  human flesh.”

It’s a simple, sweet answer, but you can see a part  of him wants to throttle you for even asking, so you dig in your heels a  little further. “Well, you could be, as like, a threat or something. Honestly wouldn’t put cannibalism past you people.”

He closes his eyes, almost like a blink, but far too long to be one, then opens them again. “We are not cannibals.”

“Honestly,  wouldn’t be surprised if you were,” you lift up a fork between your  fingers and pick at a prong, listening to the slight reverb. “Kidnap  women and eat the ones who are not cooperative.”

“If that were the case,” Jaime says, generously, “you would have been the first to go.”

“I don’t think so,” you say, “because you’re somehow fond of me.”

He arches his eyebrows, wordlessly gesturing for an elaboration on the statement.

“Well~”  you sit up, picking up a long spoon, “the servants told me that the  ones in charge of the little sex ring you have going on wanted to flush  me out of an entrance chamber or whatever, but you’re the ones who  stopped them. I don’t know what about me you found hot- probably the  part where I almost ripped your throat open, but I digress.”

Instead of protesting, or even acting coy or unbothered, he seems a bit tenser than he was prior. “Who told you that?”

“Which part?” You ask for the sake of being difficult.

“Who told you about the execution?” He leans forward in his chair, face tight with concern and anger.

“Oh,  so that was true?” You feel a bit ill in your stomach, but brush it off  like nothing is the matter. “I thought they were just saying that  because most of them don’t like me.”

He seems equal parts perplexed and pissed. “Your servants don’t like you.”

It  wasn’t a question, more of an echoing statement, but you shrug. “Dunno.  Guess some people can’t handle me snapping up the fishperson’s most  eligible bachelor with my sexy, feminine wiles.”

He doesn’t seem  to comprehend the joke, his eyes darting to just over your shoulder,  stony silent. It’s just the waitress, though, and the mask of polite  society immediately slipping off the moment she steps away.

“You should have told me,” he says as you start picking at the colorful arrangement on your plate.

“And  what? I figured you’re the ones who assigned them, so like,” you take a  bite, not bothering to offer up the high manners he does, “I wouldn’t  be too comfortable or anything.”

“You thought I would give you disloyal servants,” he says, voice hard like a stone, jaw clenched.

“Don’t act like that’s not a semi-accurate read,” you decide that you’re not a fan of the green pile of steamed something to the right of the plate. “What with the whole kidnapping brides deal,  am I supposed to just assume that you aren’t also capable of bullying  us into absolute submission? I thought it was like a hazing ritual or  something.”

His mouth tightens, and his shoulders tense. For a  long, almost scary moment, he’s staring at you, eyes tracing down the  length of your face, as though looking for any signs of abuse. His eyes  are dark, and his expression of one barely restraining themselves from  rage, but you don’t know if it’s directed at you or not. After a moment,  he turns to his food. “I apologize for their conduct. It was never my  intention to put you in any harm’s way.”

The apology slides so  easily off his tongue that you immediately search for signs of  falsehoods, but he at least seems sincere. You also have a feeling that  he wouldn’t even act this oddly if his intent was to scare you into submission, because for all the weird kidnapping stuff, Jaime is not a liar.

That you know of.

You  try to shrug it off, poking at the unfamiliar cuisine with almost no  interest. A part of you doesn’t want to give him any sort of positive  attention over the apology, but the other, more strategic part is trying  to figure out how to use this to your benefit. You don’t… have to do  any sort of kissing ass, but just thinking about being nice to him feels  like a mouth full of ash. Luckily for you, though, he seems to take the  cue to talk.

“Besides your servants, is everything else to your satisfaction?”

You glare up from your plate.

“Besides  not being able to return home,” he says, almost as though it’s generous  of him to even acknowledge your kidnapping as it is.

You shrug. “It’s boring.”

“Boring?”

“Not a lot to do besides count each and every crack in the walls.”

He cocks his head to the side. “And what can I do to remedy that?”

You pause, because you weren’t expecting him to kind of rollover and offer a solution, you were prepared to drag your feet a lot. “Stuff, I guess. You have mentioned that you’ve been at this for  awhile- shouldn’t you know that most humans like being stimulated in  some way, and there really isn’t anything I can do by myself.” Besides masturbation, but you don’t say that part out loud.

“So you would like projects,” he says, almost as though he expected this day to come.

“I  mean-” you try to think in further detail, “yes, I guess, but like  maybe also some entertainment to go along with it? Do you have  fishpeople tv dramas?”

He cocks his head to the side, observing  you as though some kind of withered anthropologist tackling his new  study. “Of course, I will immediately arrange something after our  dinner.”

You cringe, spending the rest of the meal in silence  despite Jaime’s immediate moves to slightly placate your concerns.  Everyone about him thus far has been an enigma- or maybe not, and you’re  reading too far into the relationship. You don’t even know any other  human wife/fish husband duo to compare it to, but the way Jaime holds  himself when in the presence of others, you think it must be unusual.

Or  maybe making the angry human think they’re somehow special for their  tenacity is a part of some bigger, more well-thought-out scheme, and  you’re so out of depth that they can probably predict your next fart.  You don’t know their capacity for knowledge about you yet, so you have  to assume they know everything. Even if you aren’t an open book  on social media, surely a group of people who have been kidnapping women  for centuries (?) would figure out how to get a simple FBI profile or  something if needed.

While you might not directly say you inhaled the food, you end up scarfing it down much quicker than you intended.  Still, though, watching Jaime eat is almost like a spectacle sport. His  table manners are impeccable, and if this was in any situation less  violating than this, you might be embarrassed over your complete  disregard of etiquette. But you’re done talking, and he looks done  trying to wheedle conversation out of you.

He doesn’t pay, you  notice, when he ushers you out of the restaurant when finished. The  waitress gives him what you assume is like a salute- a hand over her  chest and a soft nod, almost like a partial bow- as the both of you  leave. You suppose that since he’s one of the big guns, he’s just one of  those people who has a secretary or something to take care of costs  when he’s not in the mood to take care of it himself.

The trip  back is more effortless on your part, where you try to note little  landmarks that would lead you right back. As you lean back into the pod,  watching your reflection ripple back and forth against the water, you  realize something.

“Is this a capitalist society?” You ask.

Jaime blinks once, and that’s all that signifies you caught him off guard. “A what?”

“A society that bases itself on the ideas of capitalism? If you don’t know what that is, then the answer’s no, probably.”

“I  know what it is,” Jaime responds, voice as testy as strawberry La Croix  tastes like strawberries. “The entire structure isn’t correct for our  society; our needs and future endeavors are not focused on the success  of an individual, but rather the continuation of a species as a whole.”

That makes sense. “So you didn’t pay for me?”

He looks at you strangely, the tube coming to a stop. “I did not. The system is based on merit, not wealth.”

“But as a prince, you theoretically have both.” You pick at the hem of your dress.

“I  also have done many things to keep this city running,” Jaime says,  standing. “It may seem to you that my station has played a role in your  captivity, but if it weren’t me, it would be someone else.”

“So I should thank you.” There it is again, a reason to be annoyed at him. You were almost tired of digging.

He  walks you down the hallway slowly, hands behind his back, face straight  ahead, and refusing eye contact. Then, in a way that would only be  reckless for him, he says, “maybe you should.”

Oh, you’re  going to eat him alive. “I’m so sorry that I’m not bending over for you  to fuck over the table on account of me being your glorified baby  incubator.”

“Sex doesn’t have to be part of the process-”

“Oh, because being artificially insemination is somehow less invasive?”

He’s  silent for a moment more, and you’re so angry you can barely contain  yourself. In the corner of your eye, though, you see the guard poke his  head into view, drawn to the ruckus of your anger. You shut your mouth,  knowing full well that you’re three angry words away from getting slung  over the guard’s shoulder and carried back to your room.

“Dear,” Jaime says, and you hate it when he calls you that, “this is not ideal for you. I understand. But  I’d rather you try to look at the positives of this situation, rather  than trying to claw your way back to a life that you will never be able  to return to.”

You bite down on your tongue, hard, and then you say something you instantly regret. “You try to stop me.”

Inwardly,  you cringe, regretting the admittance of your escape plans, but Jaime  doesn’t immediately react. Instead, his gaze sticks straight ahead, deep  in thought, mouth twisting in a thin line. Despite the sudden silence,  he’s still walking, though more slowly than before.

Before you even have time to maybe cuss him out, or really let him have it, he turns around. “A project for you,” he says, “I have  an idea for that. I will also try to arrange for various mindless  entertainment.”

You’re still so mad that you can’t do anything but seethe in response.

“Dinner with you was…” he searches for an adjective, “surprisingly competitive. Your rhetoric is sharp as always.”

I’ll give you something sharp, imagining him sliced to ribbons only marginally helps your headspace.

“Goodnight,” he says, the door to your cage opening. “I’m sorry to leave you on such a sour note.”

“Shove your apology up your ass,” you say, stepping through the threshold.

[backmuscles21]

Moments With You

Poly Recoms x Reader

Summary: some of your favourite fluffy moments with your recom lovers.

Not super long, but I know y'all have been fiending for more of our beautiful recoms.

Warnings: implied sexual content, explicit language, nudity, domestic fluff.

You always found yourself laughing, you would think about the things that you did with your lovers. All these hardened soldiers, these stoic and strong men and women and you’d do dumb domestic stuff with them. stuff they never thought they’d ever do and hear you were acting drunk in love. You’d have pillow fights, bubble baths, tickle fights, you’d fake wrestle, you would bake together, you’d cuddle and watch movies. These people were supposed to be the protector of mankind, the strongest of the front line and they were holding you like the most precious object to them.

They were people who crushed skulls with their giant blue mitts, had so much innocent blood on their hands and they held you like you could break if they breathed too hard on you. Yet somehow, they still liked to fuck the shit out of you and leave you with bruises in the morning.

You would commonly sing a random song that was playing in your headphones while you cleaned, you would start scrubbing the countertops and you’d just have to sing your favourite parts. You’d never hear any of the soldiers coming up on you, you’d be cleaning and singing also probably a little dancing. Then you’d feel arms around your waist, you’d be lifted up against someone’s chest. You’d let out a girly shriek as you’d drop the sponge you were using and took an earbud out. You had a feeling it was one of your lovers and as you turned around you saw Lyle who was smirking at you and trying not to laugh as he let go of you.

“Asshole,” you’d laugh out at him at slapped him on his arm.

Lyle laughed and pulled you into a hug, your head rested on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“You looked cute. Not to mention these tights you wear while cleaning -mmm- damn baby, I could eat you up.”

You let out a scoffed laugh, you kissed his chest and pushed away from him. “Okay, I gotta finish otherwise this place would be a mess.”

“Wow, what a cockblock.”

“I’ll block your cock later. Or get Miles to do it,” you smiled to yourself as you grabbed the sponge on the floor.

One of your favourite things to do was get in a shower after a mission, you were dirty and sweaty and nothing was better than getting clean and smelling good. It got better when you had company, which was often, one of the boys heard you showering or followed you into the bathroom. They’d open the shower curtain and see you scrubbing your body, now they had to admit you were extremely good looking but this was about sex.

Commonly Miles was the one to join you, he’d be the last in the communal recom bathroom since as the colonel he had to do so many different reports and debriefings. Well, he would shower before writing any reports, there were always things he had to do. You just took your sweet time showering, especially when you didn’t have someone with you to judge you for wanting to be in the warm water for 30 minutes.

You’d see him tiredly walking in and removing his clothes, when he walked into the shower stalls you reached out and pulled him into you. He sighed tiredly as you held him close, you then grabbed some soap and got started on scrubbing his body. You started to scrub all the dirt and blood off his arms before ensuring that you really got into the knuckles of his hands and under his nails. You started to scrub at his scalp, he purred at the feeling of your nails massaging his scalp. His hands held onto your waist as his forehead rested against yours, you just stood in the shower connected by your hands and your foreheads. It was the most intimate of times you had with any of them, although Zdog enjoyed it, she’d get freaked out after a while and try to start getting handsy.

Even better when you heard about this the following morning, but you were in Prager’s room for the night. You had woken up to use the bathroom and slowly trudged out of the bedroom to the bathroom. You barely had your eyes open so you didn’t see Lopez and Ja snickering on the couch as you shuffled along the floor in Prager’s sweatpants. They were too big on you and sat low on your hips not to mention how you were stepping on them and you were in a tank top that was showing off your midriff and your cleavage.

“Whose room is she in tonight?”

“I think Prager’s,” Ja responded.

“I mean she’s wearing his clothes.”

“They probably smashed and she threw on his clothes to go to the bathroom.”

They laughed as you walked back out and went back into Prager’s room. They told you about it in the morning and you smiled embarrassingly at them.

“Come on, you looked cute,” Ja said kissing your head.

“She was wearing your clothes, Prager. Time to get primal,” Lopez said while snickering.

“She wasn’t wearing it when she went to sleep,” Prager smirked back.

“You guys are gross.”

“Shoulda just come out wearing nothing. It's not like we haven’t seen it before,” Lopez said hugging you.

“I have decency you know. I hang out with too many boys.”

Another thing that happens often is you’d wake up earlier than them and go to the gym before them. you liked that more since you could blast your own music and actually focus on working out rather than knowing that you had so many different eyes on you watching your ass or your tits as you worked out.

You’d blast your rap music at a high volume and get your squat rack ready, you were already dripping sweat from sprinting earlier. You would occasionally sing along to some of your favourite parts of the different songs. As you were in the zone squatting away, you didn’t even notice a few of the recoms enter the gym.

“Didn’t know you listened to this,” Zdog said to you as she stood in front of you.

You nodded to her and looked around to see Walker, Mansk, Lyle and Miles.

“You’re looking good babe,” Lyle winks at you from the free weights.

You rolled your eyes and smiled at him.

Walker walked up to you as you put the bar back down, she smacked your ass hard.

“Ow,” you looked at her while you rubbed your butt cheek with a pout.

“Come on, you’re wearing the tightest of spandex shorts and a sports bra. Your ass is just too good to resist.”

Walker gave it another lighter smack as you stood chest to chest. Her one arm stayed on your butt after smacking it to just hold it and squeeze it, the other stayed firmly around your waist. She ran her bottom lip through her teeth as she looked down at you hungrily. She moved her hands up your body to grab the straps to your sports bra, she pulled them down your arms as tits popped out. She smirked down at your boobs.

“These are real fucking nice.”

“Did you have to just take them out?”

“Nah, but I am enjoying myself.”

Your hands went to your hips as Walker’s hands cupped your boobs.

“Shit, are those (y/n’s) tits?” Fike said as he walked into the gym getting everyone’s attention. Zdog walked over to you and Walker and breathed out a laugh, Zdog went up behind Walker and rested her chin on Walker’s shoulder.

“So, whatdya gonna do with them?”

“Not sure yet. I just like looking.”

“You’re more than looking now, babe. You’ve got ‘em out and about and squeezing them in your hands.”

“Lemme get all up in there,” Lyle said as he came up to you three.

“Girls only,” Walker smirked at Lyle.

Later on, as you were in the shower, Mansk went to follow you, he had been riled up earlier. He walked into the communal bathroom and immediately heard you humming and singing. He walked a little further to see the showers, you had water dripping down your body and hair. Mansk could see your lips moving, your eyes were closed as you belted out one of your favourite songs that you felt you could sing well.

“Damn that’s hot,” Fike said as he rested his elbow on Mansk’s shoulder.

Mansk hummed and shrugged Fike’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“Are you guys just gonna stare?” You said with your back to them.

After your shower you got dressed and got ready for the day, you had to rebraid your hair and get it up out of your face for any of your military responsibilities. You were sat on your bed as you brushed all your hair back, you had tied it into a lower ponytail and started to brain down your que. You were still completely naked as you like to dry off completely before getting dressed.

“I see you’re all ready for me.”

You looked at your doorway as you saw Miles leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his forehead.

“I’m not like this for you, but I could be. After I finish my hair.”

“Do you want a hand?”

“The big bad Miles Quaritch knows how to braid hair?”

“Had to learn after we came back, yaknow, for this,” Miles said as he lifted his braided que.

“Who taught you?”

“I had two sisters growing up and in Texas, they taught me so I could do their hair.”

You laughed.

“You tell no one.”

“I’ll say Z taught u if someone asks.”

“Just don’t bring it up.”

“It’s cute that you did that for them though.”

Miles came into your room and closed the door; he sat down right behind you and finished your braid. He grabbed you and sat up on his legs, he held you close to his body, and your head rested on his shoulder as he rubbed your bare back.

Now this happened often, it honestly was one of your favourite things to do with the recoms, especially when all in the common room together. You’d stand behind someone, this time it was Prager, and your chin rested on his head. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your hands rested on his chest and after a few moments of talking all around you stood up straighter and rested your hands on his shoulders.

Your hands just absentmindedly started to massage his shoulder; your hands squeezed at his tense muscles. He groaned lowly and rested his head back against the couch.

“Fuck that’s good.”

You smiled down at him as he had his eyes closed, you rubbed into his neck a little as well, his muscles were so tight.

“You enjoying yourself. You’re very tense.”

“Baby it’s fucking amazing. I needed this.”

“Wanna do me next?” Lopez says with a smirk.

“Sure, why not.”

Now, this rarely happened but occasionally things would get a little out of hand, but when it did, it had to be your favourite.

Currently, you were completely topless as Lyle chased you around with just his standard issues RDA track pants on. You held your boobs in your hands as you jumped up onto the couch to try and get away from Lyle. You would occasionally scream a little as Lyle laughed, he would follow you trying to catch you. You and him were playing around, he would answer one of your questions and you’d take an article of clothing off. It ended up with him lying and you being chased, it didn’t stop even as some of the other recoms entered the room.

“What is going on in here?” Miles asked in his commanding tone.

“Lyle cheated,” you said as you kept trying to run away.

“What are you talking about?” Mansk asked.

“We were playing a game and he cheated.”

“What on earth kind of game were you talking about?” Zdog asked.

“He was answering my questions and every right answer, I’d strip. But he lied.”

“So, that’s why you’re running around half-naked?” Miles asked.

“Come on, it’s not like you guys are complaining. She’s shirtless,” Lyle said as he caught up to you and picked you up.

He pressed kisses all over your face and down your chest, “gotcha.”

“Shut up,” you said as you rolled your eyes with a smile.

[gatitties]

Ayo I wondering if you could the straw hats or heart pirates with reader who's personality involves them being sarcastic, mischievous and brazenly condescending yet sly and humorous. they also have the genso genso no mi that allows the user to create physical illusions that can be seen by everyone. These illusions are highly convincing and shatter like glass when reader dispels them, or someone breaks them. Their most apparent use of them is creating illusions around their body, either to disguise themselves or for their opponent to target while they escapes or moves unseen to another point of attack.  They also seem to be somewhat resilient to damage. While fighting an opponent, the illusion concealing reader's outfit was not dispelled even after taking or landing some hits.  They also learned to use their devil fruit abilities for psychological manipulation, exploiting the appearance of close friends and families in their enemies to torment and overpower them. Reader at one point displayed their mastery over their devil fruit, where they managed to completely disguise an entire navy ship to physically resemble a marine ship, implying that they could maintain the facade long enough to fool the marines. Their devil fruit awakening would allow the reader to cast illusions from any object or living thing from their own surroundings. An example would be zoro who was cast an illusion on him to make others see him as Charlos (aka the ugly celestial dragon). that would make the opportunity for Luffy or any of the straw hats to fight him while not realizing that is zoro while reader comes up with a plan.

─Strawhats & Heart Pirates x reader

─Summary: You're a mischievous person, you like to cause some chaos with your powers, even if it's your own crew, you just enjoy the drama too much.

─Warnings: none

─ You are a threat and a salvation in equal parts for this crew.

─ Reliable enough to get them out of trouble thanks to your illusions, and evil enough to create small fights between them with your power.

─ You live for drama, and what better drama than blaming others for acts they haven't done? You love causing chaos wherever you step, did you think that just because they are your friends they would get rid of your bad jokes?

─ Nami has probably hit you more than once for being silly or making an unfortunate comment on more than one occasion, but your sarcasm can't be stopped.

─ Robin and Jinbe are the ones who fall least into your traps of illusion, they know how to detect when you are going to do something mischievous, they can read you like an open book.

─ Zoro and Sanji are the ones you mess with the most, confusing them and making their bromance more than just bros, but you're just trying to make love blossom, at least that's your legitimate defense.

─ You can be sarcastic, stubborn… and countless other things, but Chopper is not part of your jokes, at least, not most of the time.

─ Although you will use his appearance in your hallucinations to scare Usopp, there is nothing that scares the sniper more than meeting a monstrous and unreal version of his cute friend.

─ Something that is not so common to use with them is the 'mental control' that you began to develop, it seemed to you that it was something that you should only use with enemies… and with the occasional whim.

─ Do you want to go to a snowy island just to ride a sleigh and make snowmen? Not to mention more! A couple of wishful thinking, some sweet words and you'll be on a winter island the next day.

─ Although they probably scolded you for altering the route, you defend yourself by saying that it wasn't you who agreed to change it, they can't really blame you when they were the ones who "agreed".

─ You have a list with all the most hated people in the crew just to create illusions and provoke everyone to go against each other.

─ Literally sometimes you are the definition of “why have enemies when you have friends.”

─ Law is so fed up with your behaviour but you are so useful in avoiding marines that he allows some of your comments and antics.

─ Although he will probably send you many more tasks than the others as a punishment for taking years off his life with your jokes.

─ You will make him think that he is eating bread, getting on your captain's nerves and doing a puzzle with your body so that you can kill the boredom rebuilding it.

─ Shachi and Penguin have a lot of fights because of you, but they are so easy to fool that it is impossible for you not to confuse them with some of your illusions so that they end up arguing over trivial things.

─ Ikkaku has strictly forbidden you entry to the kitchen because the last thing she needs is to cause more disasters in the kitchen, and she's also a tough nut to crack, your illusions don't work so well with her.

─ Of course Law also learned to see through your power, so you started using a little psychology for your antics.

─ One day you simply decided that it would be a good idea to use your powers to convince everyone to dress up as penguins for a mission, the moment was unforgettable just like cleaning the floor of the submarine with a toothbrush…

─ Once you made Jean Bart take the form of Bepo, although only Law could see him like that, everyone laughed at him for seeing him hug the wrong person.

─ It goes without saying that you had to do another arduous task after messing with your captain.

─ Bepo is probably the only one who escapes the worst jokes, you will use him as a shield for some scoldings, he really is your most powerful weapon against your captain.

─ They always send you to the rear in case they need you to create some illusion for an unexpected situation, Law is usually calculating and rarely prefers to take action if it is not planned in advance.

─ What seems boring to you and sometimes you decide to improvise a little, without ruining the plan, but it's more fun to watch the bad guys beat each other while you just watch the fight like it's a movie

─ The probability of arguing with Law for disobeying him is lower, since at least you didn't ruin the mission, or at least, he doesn't have to remember that you ruined something, you just have to alter his mind a little so that he doesn't realize that your little mistakes.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.33

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Finally away from the chaos, you relax your tense shoulders as soon as the door to Nat’s bedroom shuts. You take notice of the way Nat constantly protectively hovers near you and the subtle brushes of her hand against yours. If you’re honest you hadn’t been expecting her to be this physical but you’re not complaining. 

The first thing you notice is her gray comforter and you smirk at the reminder of your previous conversation.

“What are you smiling at?” You could give her a long list of reasons you would be smiling right now (most of them pertaining to her presence) but instead, you opt for the truth.

“You really need better taste in comforters”

Nat groans, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The apprehension from the car ride seems to have completely dissipated and you’re grateful that she’s feeling as comfortable around you in person as she was over the phone.

Taking the opportunity to observe her room, you notice the decoration is minimal but still cute. Books on the shelves, a few framed pictures of her and the other Avengers, a few framed drawings made by some kids who call her “Aunty Nat”

It feels incredibly intimate to be in the space where Natasha spends all of her time and you’re unsure what to do with yourself until Nat gestures for you to sit at the edge of her bed.

You take the invitation and plop down on the gray comforter while Nat chooses to stay standing, the two of you observing each other in privacy for the first time. Your hands itch to touch her again and you have a feeling you were going to have that urge for a while. 

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things the two of you were too afraid to say. Was it too soon to tell her how you felt? Maybe you should diffuse some of this tension between the two of you?

“So not an FBI agent then” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it feels appropriate to mention the first conversation you’d ever had for one of your first in-person conversations. Like an ode to the past but a promise of a playful future.

She smiles at the reference “Not quite” Now that the two of you are alone her expression has changed into something softer. Her once-guarded eyes now shine with an expression so profound it makes your heart ache. A permanent smile stuck on her inviting lips.

Without the pressure of other people, the two of you could express your love for each other with more than just a verbal longing. Your body language spoke more than your words ever could.

You don’t know if Natasha can read the emotions on your face, or if her reading them would be a good or bad thing but you know you don’t want to say goodbye anytime soon.

”I think you owe me a picnic date” it’s the only thing you can think to say to comprehend your desire to stay without outright asking. You hope it quells any doubts in Nat's mind that you would want anything near the opposite of being with her.

“Oh yeah?” Her reply is sultry, the rasp of her voice seems to intensify tenfold in the privacy of her room and you’re suddenly aware of just how alone the two of you are. If Nat didn’t want anyone to enter and interrupt then no one would dare. 

You have to clear your throat before you can reply, afraid the want would be too prominent and scare her off. Truthfully she could do anything she wanted to you in this moment and you wouldn't object.

Her signature smirk is back in an instant and you’re sure you’ve been caught just by the look in her eyes but she doesn’t comment on it “I think I can do that”

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket and it reminds you that there’s a world outside of the two of you- reminds you that Nat is a woman with a tough life and even tougher responsibilities. A life that you would hate to get in the way of. 

The thought makes you frown ”You must be busy with sorting out the government and superhero business and other stuff” She doesn’t give you more than a second to drown in your thoughts-

”I’d drop everything for you, Y/n” It's a quick response, and even she seems surprised by her own words but she doesn't seem to regret them. It’s a bigger admission than you were ready for but it’s still a welcome one. If anything it gives you confidence in your own feelings.

~

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on each other's lives and dancing around the obvious tensions between you. Nat remains standing and you wonder if it’s a force of habit until you notice her restless hands and come to the striking realization that she was holding herself back- from touching you.

When there’s a lull in the conversation you gather up the courage to ask her a question you’ve been wondering since you figured out Nat was Natasha

“Why did you keep texting me? You could’ve blocked me or probably disabled my phone if you wanted but you didn’t” You don’t tell her yet how grateful you are that she never stopped texting you. How you were so consumed by your loneliness that you never even went out before her. 

The thrill that anyone could be her was one of the things that pushed you to go outside more.

Nat smiled softly “I don’t really know why either. I probably should’ve done those things but…” Her eyes turn solemn despite the smile on her face and it makes you want to distract her from whatever memory is making her sad but the desire to know why she kept texting you kept your mouth shut “I think part of me needed someone to talk to who didn’t know who I was or what I’d done. It also didn’t hurt to get such high praise about myself all the time”

You blush, looking away. The memory of all of your fan-girl rambles causing you to groan and cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Oh my gosh, I said all of those things about how much I liked you to you” You hear her footsteps get closer and when you peek out from between your fingers you see her standing right in front of you staring down at you with mirth in her eyes.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it was cute” You choke out a sound of embarrassment, you’re not sure how red you are but you’re sure tomatoes would probably be jealous.

“I regret so much” You mock whisper and in a second two hands are tugging yours away from your face, the sly smile on Nat’s face is replaced with a more serious look

“Y/n,” You struggle to maintain eye contact when she’s looking at you so strongly “Nobody’s ever talked about me the way you did, it made me proud of who I am, which is something I’m not often” You frown a little and Nat’s eyes drop to your lips for a split second before regaining eye contact

“You can be embarrassed but you’re not allowed to regret it” You nod slowly and she pulls away, letting go of your arms but still standing over you. Your skin burns where she touched and you’re sure your heart is beating loud enough for her to hear it. 

She had no business having this much of an effect on you but you were helpless to stop it. -Not that you wanted to.

“So…” You start “ This might make things a little awkward between us but I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore” She tilts her head in question but stays silent for you to continue. You take a deep reassuring breath in and begin speaking before you can convince yourself to quit

“I know this might sound a little bit crazy because this is our first time meeting in person but you’re such an incredible person inside and out, and you were always there for me when I needed you, and you’re unfairly funny for someone who claims to not have a sense of humor and well… it was kind of inevitable that I would fall in love with you” 

It’s terrifying to admit to her but there’s a weight that lifts off of your shoulders nonetheless. The silence is heavy and you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes, scared that all you’ll find is rejection or disgust. You’re so sure that you’ve just ruined the best potential friendship and regret begins to sink into your skin when Nat once again guides your face to look up at her.

Much to your surprise, you don’t find disgust or disappointment, instead, you find two glassy green eyes staring at you with so much adoration it fills your whole body with warmth. She looks like she can’t believe what she just heard is real and it’s your turn to hear just how rapidly her heart is beating 

“Say it again” It takes you a few seconds to register her words but once you do a hopeful smile creeps onto your face

“I love you.” You say a little shakily, and then with more confidence “ I love you, Nat. More than I probably should love someone I met on the internet but what can I say? I fell in love with you.” You laugh a little as happy tears begin trailing down your cheeks, “You don’t have to say it back I just-”

“I love you too” She interrupts and your heart tugs blissfully in your chest “From the moment I met you I should’ve blocked your number but I couldn’t. You just had this magnetic energy even through the phone and it drew me to you in a way I knew would end up with my heart in a mess.” You’re crying even harder now and Nat takes a moment to wipe the tears from your face before continuing-

“- And then I saw you at Starks party and you were… everything. Witty and gorgeous and beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined you’d be. That’s when I knew, even if it was terrifying- even if it was unfamiliar and I could get hurt- I knew then that I was in love with you.”

You’ve never heard anyone talk about you in such a way and it moves you so much that you can’t bear to hold yourself back any longer. Your hand drifts to her face and your eyes search hers for permission only for her to pull you in.

Your lips meet in a teary overwhelmingly tender kiss and you think you could live in this moment forever. Nat’s hands tug at your cheeks to pull you even closer and your hands find purchase around her neck, the two of you lost in each other.

Your body melts at her touch and you lose track of time as your mind hazes over, incapable of thinking of anything but the feeling of Nat’s lips against yours until the need for oxygen pulls you apart. 

Even though you pull apart Natasha keeps her forehead pressed against yours, not wanting to break contact. Overwhelmed with joy, a small breathy laugh escapes you as you stare into Nat’s heady gaze.

“Do you think we could do that again?” You’re a little shy to ask but Nat responds with a husky laugh of her own

“I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, Y/n”

Epilogue

A/n: Gah! Finally! God they’re so perfect for each other :( I’m going to miss them ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime @taliiiaasteria @bgwlsmahf25 @chibilauren @natashasgirlll @nmhlver @strange-night-owl @obsessedwjill @autorasexy @madamevirgo @kissesfornat @gemz5

[hadesoftheladies]

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 5 / HORROR & CRIME DRAMA)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes:

-Dangerous girls (they ain't innocent)/ girlhood as violent

-Stressed out and melancholic female detectives and authors (lots of drinking/smoking)

-Mothers who've seen too fucking much to play games/I'm a good mother until it doesn't let up

-Women handling shit/getting shit done

-Mothers who didn't want to be mothers but here we fucking are so might as well handle shit

-Evil women who are also unfortunately hot

-Female sociopaths (not always negatively portrayed)

HAVEN'T WATCHED

The Royal Hotel

The Silent Twins

The Kitchen

The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

Sharp Objects

Killing Eve

Abigail

Heavenly Creatures

A Quiet Place Part 2

Panic Room

Alice, Darling

Blood Red Sky

Rust Creek

The Marsh King's Daughter

Pearl

Longlegs

GOOD STUFF (NEVER WATCHING AGAIN THOUGH!)

Bad Sisters (8/10) (sisters plan to kill their sister's abusive husband)

Yellowjackets (9/10) (love as cannibalism)

Candy (7.5/10) (she's just a killer lol)

Cruella (6.5/10)(help my mom is a narcissist and it's hereditary)

Jennifer's Body (7/10) (boys aren't people lmao)

Bird Box (8/10)

Under the Bridge (8/10)

PERSONAL NOTES

I watched Tragedy Girls years ago, and I remember being grossed out and having a lot of fun as well. If you like Jennifer's Body, you'll probably like Tragedy Girls, too. And if you like Tragedy Girls, you may also enjoy Thoroughbreds. All three have a twisted sense of girlpower.

The Call isn't scary so much as its nerve-wracking and upsetting. It's not gory (although there is violence), but it deals with heavy subject matter. I can, however, promise a satisfying ending. Even though I doubt it would put you at ease.

Horror is my least favourite genre so bear that in mind. I just hate jump scares (because I hate being startled) and I don't like gore though there are times where it doesn't bother me so much. So this is definitely not an exhaustive list on horror recs. Crime is as close as I usually get to such dark stuff so I put the dark crimes, psychological thrillers and horrors together. I don't even want to talk about these that much because I'm nauseous already.

Watch at your own risk.

[sweetestlamb]

The Boy is Mine

Summary: Sol deals with the struggles of dating a kpop idol. It goes very well for all parties involved. (Rated Filth again)

She knows that you can't be too clingy especially when the relationship is fresh, you're supposed to be aloof, pleasant and agreeable. That's what all the magazines say that men want, a cool mysterious woman. Someone that always keeps you guessing what they'll do next.

Someone nothing like her.

But how exactly is she supposed to be any of that with a boyfriend like this? How many people on the planet get to date someone who was their idol who then turned out to be an even better person?

There cannot be many living this dream and she cannot ruin this and ultimately drive Sun Jae away. So she tries to be cool and agreeable.

But it's hard when you're with someone that everyone wants. And she can't even blame the starry eyed admirers, she was just like them. Is just like them. Sun Jae is objectively gorgeous, with a face that could be carved from marble and lips as luscious as the softest petals. Not to mention his body is a work of pure art-hard and cut, and she's seen more of it than any rabid fan girl. To put it simply he's unbelievably hot and it's hard not to cling to him like a desperate koala.

Most days she wants to climb him like a tree.

And honestly she's been short most of her life so others towering over her isn't new but nothing to his calibre. She feels infinitely fragile when she's with him.

Like now, his hands are so huge that they completely dwarf her own. If it were anyone else there would be an element of fear but she knows that he would never hurt her, would rather hurt himself first. It's the same for her, they are each other's biggest weaknesses. And strengths.

"What are you thinking about so diligently that you're ignoring your boyfriend?" His deep voice rips her out of her thoughts and she smiles as he swings their hands as they walk. The only reason they haven't been discovered is because of his face mask and sunglasses. But she doubts that would stop a diehard stan from recognizing the massive idol. Thankfully they haven't encountered any, yet.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how nice the weather is. I'm glad we came out."

And then she adds a smile to go alongside the huge lie she just told.

She doesn't know if he believes her but she's saved by the bell when his phone rings and it's his manager demanding to know where he is and why he isn't at the meet and greet.

So just like that their impromptu date comes to an end and he's whisked away with sweet promises of seeing her soon and she nods agreeably.

Shoving her insecurities deep, deep down.

It's all over the internet.

Pictures of their kiss plastered across her phone screen from every angle and it makes her jaw lock.

Sun Jae's wide eyes meet her from the still shot, his newly hired bodyguard had intervened before things could go any further but the overzealous fan had already gotten what she wanted, a kiss far too close to his lips. Lips that only she should be privy to.

It's not his fault. He's the victim here and she had immediately texted him to see if he was okay because this couldn't be about her. Her jealousy was juvenile and she needed to keep it under lock so she wouldn't scare him away.

And later that week when they're on the couch, shoulder to shoulder and he's stumbling over his words trying to explain what happened she plasters her patented 'cool' smile and brushes him away.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything. It wasn't your fault."

And she truly believes this. In her heart. But that doesn't impede the green eyed creature lurking there too.

She goes to work and tries her best to focus, listen to her boss, pretend to care about office drama, clicking away at her computer in a daze. Nobody knows what they are to each other so her worries are her own to shoulder and carry.

It's only when she takes a break in the staff lounge that she hears what has the whole office in such a buzz since this morning.

"......think it's true. He's never dated anyone before even though he's sooooo hot. I'm so jealous, he's the hottest one in the group."

"You saw the pictures, they look amazing together! Celebrities like them just make sense."

And she timidly takes a look on her phone opening up her Goople browser and it's the first thing she sees.

"Ryu Sun Jae and Kim Syeon spotted getting cozy on the Red Carpet, could this mean a total eclipse of idol's heart?"

Paparazzi shots from every angle flood her timeline, the young actress looked gorgeous in all of them with her ink black hair and smooth pale skin. And the worst part was how sickenly good they really did look together.

With her they either looked like an odd couple or siblings according to some strangers but that wasn't the case now, the other woman was tall with a slim statuesque figure.

What were they talking about? Why did they have to look so damn good together? Why was this making her so upset? She wanted to cry.

The ache in her chest is unbearable.

She's outside this door before can she talk herself out of it.

Fist lifted to knock but the door opens before she can touch the rich thick wood and then she's looking at that gorgeous face that she has been missing.

"Sol? I was just coming to talk to you!"

Probably to explain. But she can't hear him because all she can see is replaying in her mind is the video of a stranger kissing her boyfriend or the actress staring up in awe at her boyfriend and it's driving her crazy.

So she pushes him back through his opened door, ignoring his questions and confusion.

"I already know. I know you have a perfectly good explanation for what happened and I know it isn't your fault again but....you said you were mine. You said everything of yours belonged to me so why?"

He stares at her with a gaping mouth, looking like a fish out of water. If she wasn't so angry she would think about how cute he was. But now is not the time for that.

After a moments pause he finally finds his voice back.

"Why what? I really can explain, it's all Dong Seok's fault he told her that--"

"Why are you letting others touch what's mine? Why does everything think that you are with somebody else? Why do I have to hear everyone talk about how hot my boyfriend is and how much they want to fu......"

She slaps her hand over her mouth before the expletive can escape. But his wide eyes make it clear that he knows exactly what she wanted to say.

His mouth only drops lower. And the silence is deafening until he breaks it with a laugh, one singular booming laugh.

"You're jealous."

"Of course I am! How could I not be?"

She almost stomps her feet in frustration as he smiles at her, infuriating with how gorgeous he looks with a smile on his face.

"Are you happy?" She demands and he grins even wider, shameless in his glee.

"I already told you. I belong to you. If you hate others touching what's yours so much, you touch me instead." He challenges her leaning that exquisite body against the wall and opening his arms as if begging her to come and get him.

She's thought about this too many times, staking her claim. But she doesn't know where to start, this was never supposed to be her reality. Even in her dreams it was too much for her to handle.

He watches her with a penetrating stare before raising his hand and slowly opening one button on his dark green button down. Then another and another and another. Until she can see his abs peeking beneath the open shirt and her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth.

He's too hot for her to function.

And still she remains frozen in front of him unable to move a muscle as he strips for her right in the foyer.

"What? Cat got your tongue? And what do I have to do to get it instead?"

No way. This can't be her Sun Jae but at the same time this is how he speaks to her now ever since they stumbled into a relationship. Always teasing and hinting at something.... she's not sure they're ready for.

But his admittance that he's hers helps her figure out her next move.

My Sun Jae.

That gets her moving. The blood rushing through her body again. He is hers. She is not only allowed to touch him but he wants her too, and that's more than anyone else can say.

She has to kiss him, there is nothing else to do but get her lips on him.

He's delicious, a taste that is distinctly his own that she will never get enough of. Mint with an undercurrent of citrus and spice, she presses close for a better taste and it's only then that she remembers his current state of undress.

Nobody but her had ever touched his stomach and so she does so, lavishly raking her nails over the hard plane and then he wraps his arms around her and spins them until she's smashed into the wall.

"What are you doing to me Sol?"

His voice is husky now, wrecked in a way that she wants to bottle up and play at nights when she needs that extra bit to fall over the edge with his name on her tongue.

"Whatever I want."

And then she's on her knees in the foyer. And she knows this is bad, so so bad and she's a good girl. She's never done this before, there was no time to think about anything like this when she was bitterly watching life go by in a wheelchair. But everything has changed and so in this universe she's bending down boldly and staring up at the slack face of her boyfriend.

"Wha- are you serious?"

She can feel his tension like electricity in the air. And she's never been more serious about anything in her life.

"Does this belong to me too?" She strokes up the leg of his pants before curling her hand around the bulge that seems to be begging for her attention.

She almost cringes at her own question feeling like an amateur porn star and she half expects him to laugh at her cheesy lines but instead he grows harder, longer, thicker in her hand and she's terrified she might have bitten off more than she can chew....or swallow.

"Yes. Fuck. It belongs to you, only you. I've only ever thought about you while....." He trails off but she's not that innocent not to be able to fill in the blanks.

He thought about her when he did that.

Touched himself.

She did the same so it shouldn't be surprising but she was shocked all the same.

"What do you think about?" She inquiries as she begins to stroke him, up and down, getting a feel for him through the only barrier between his... And her hand.

"How much I want to make you......scream. The ways that I could drive you crazy. How much I want to.....taste you and feel you."

And she can feel the effects his words are having on her, can feel the heat between her legs, slicking them up. But she can also hear the effect she is having on him, he's struggling to string sentences together panting above her and she can feel the biggest sign of his arousal growing in her palms.

She grips the metal zipper looking up at him and he nods so quickly she worries about his neck momentarily. But that thought fades away just as quickly and she opens up her gift.

"It's so big." She whispers aloud.

Much like the rest of him, his hands, his feet, his height. And now his....

"You're killing me here." He groans with a sudden buck into her hands which results in his head slamming back into the wall.

"Sun Jae! Are you okay?"

She almost stops her ministrations to check on him but he's practically vibrating in her hands as he shouts, "I'm fine! Don't stop, please."

She didn't know men could get wet too but she can see his fluids start to darken the elastic material of his boxers.

What would it taste like? Bitter? Salty?

And oh god, what are earth is she thinking? Was she some kind of pervert?

But despite her internal reprimands her hands never stop moving until she tugs at the band of his boxers and pulls them down with shaking hands.

He's naked. Oh my god.

She's so nervous she could die but she lets instinct carry her along since her experience is lacking.

It juts out impatiently as soon as it's released and she cries out as it nearly hits her in the face. Thankfully Sun Jae had enough foresight to anticipate that and she watches as he takes himself in hand cupping his erection carefully away from her face.

"Careful."

Even in a time like this he's worrying about her, unbelievable.

"Can I...?"

His jaw clenches as her incomplete question, his handsome face contorted in something that looks like pained pleasure.

"Do you not want me to-" her heart aches at the implications but his heated glare is enough to shut down any insecurity or doubt she might have left.

He shakes his head rapidly before answering.

"I'm scared I'm going to.....come too fast if you touch me."

She has no idea how exactly to make a man come, especially a man like him who is so sexy he can probably accomplish that with just a look. But underneath her nerves lay her possessive desires and she wants to be the only one to see him like that, shaking in pleasure because of her touch. So she marches onward.

"How do I.......do that?" She whispers with her head down.

"Well first don't do that." He instantly tilts her head back up with a firm touch of his finger to her chin.

"Look at me. I want to see your face and every expression that you make."

She blushes but obeys his order mostly because she couldn't look away even if she wanted to. She's stuck in his web and has no desire to escape.

"Okay. Look at you. What else?"

"Are you ser- do you really want me to tell you what to do?"

And for a minute she worries that this might be turning him off, her blatant inexperience and need for directions. This is definitely the least sexy way to seduce someone but it's the only way she knows, she's eager to learn what makes him tick.

"Whatever you're thinking right now is wrong. I've wanted you for as long as I can remember, there is nothing you can do that I won't like. Nothing."

Her heart swells at his reassurance but at the same time her eyes meet his hard length and his words are mumbled beneath the rushing of blood to her head.

There is a bead of thick white substance at the very tip and that tingling feeling surges inside her once more.

What would it taste like....

There's only one way to find out.

He's still talking above her but his words are inaudible as she shifts forward with a sudden burst of confidence, opening her mouth just enough to let her tongue peek out and licking the fluid right off him.

Bitter.

That's her first impression but that gives way to salty, then earthy and warm. She takes another taste, more certain now after facing the unknown. Leaning forward she pops the entire tip into her mouth, making sure to cover her teeth lest she hurt him.

As she shifts her hands to his hips she can feel how tightly coiled his muscles are.

He's holding back for her sake and she's truly grateful.

Remembering his words from earlier she looks up at him with his cock dripping in her mouth, slowly licking away the liquid as it pools.

So this is what he looks like.

Fucking glorious. His eyes are screwed shut as he bites down onto his lush bottom lip and she can see a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Sometimes it's intimidating how handsome he is, she wonders what she did in her past life to deserve him.

"Please..... move."

And she perks up at his directions, eager to learn how to make him think about nothing but her.

She doesn't know that this isn't necessary because she's already taken over his heart and mind.

"Like this?" She mumbles around the flesh in her mouth, slowly drawing her mouth back and then pushing it forward trying to swallow a little bit more of him.

"Ah! Yeah...yeah. Just like that. Slower and keep looking at me."

It's a bit difficult because instinctively she wants to look down to make sure she's doing it right but she wants to give him everything he wants. So she stares up at him, flushing at his hard penetrating gaze.

He looks wild, like he's barely wrangling in his true desires.

It's a bit awkward at first but she's grateful when he sudden holds her face, the question clear in his dark eyes.

She nods.

And it's hot beyond her imagination, feeling him grip her face and shove himself into her mouth. He's too gentle as if he thinks she'll break but she accepts the treatment, opening herself up wider.

He thrusts into her once, twice, a shuttering third time before he speaks again, "I need more. Can you take more?" He pleads and his husky tone makes her center twist into knots.

His voice has alway made her feel things but never to this capacity. Never in a way that was so hot blooded.

And she doesn't know what more really entails in this instance but she's so horny right now there isn't much he can ask for that she would deny.

"Mmhmm." She moans around him and oh, he must like that because she can feel him jump in her mouth.

She takes a mental note.

Sunjae likes vibration.

And then there's more, he pushes in deeper and she's forced to open wider to give him space and she blinks away the moisture in her eyes. It's a strain but she refuses to stop now she's made it this far.

A tear falls down her cheek.

He's watching her intently and her breath hitches as he wipes the tear away with his thumb. She worries that he's going to stop and check on her again but this Sun Jae in front of her now is different than what she's used to.

He doesn't slow down, not even a little bit instead thrusting at a tempered pace now until she feels like she might choke on him and more tears spill out and he grunts above her, saying filthy things to her.

Telling her how good she looks. How much he loves her mouth. How badly he wants to taste her too.

She nods passively at his dirty ramblings, giving up all control as he thrusts into her mouth over and over and over again.

The pace is almost explosive and she hangs on for dear life as he uses her roughly, no longer concerned with her comfort too lost chasing his own pleasure and although she's crying full of dick on a floor she's never left more powerful. More desirable.

She wants him to be selfish.

And she wants to be selfish in return.

"Look at me. Look at me." He pleads bucking wildly now and this feels familiar, she's seen x-rated videos before and she knows what comes next. And he must too because he starts to pull away, giving her an out.

But she doesn't want one.

He had said it himself, everything about him belonged to her.

So she grabs onto his hips and refuses to let go, and his resistance only lasts for a second before he's plowing into her and filling up her, so badly that it spills from the sides of her lips and she is powerless to do anything but wait and keep sucking.

"Fuck!"

He shouts before collapsing, finally freeing his length from its home.

They stare at each other in awe, her in disbelief that she just gave Sun Jae a blowjob in the foyer and him that any of this is reality and not his mind tormenting him.

"You don't have to swa-"

She gulps and licks her lips defiantly.

"Ugh you're going to get me hard again!" He cries, covering his eyes.

That would be impressive, she did not think that was a feat possible for the average man but her Sun Jae has never been average in any sense.

She opens her mouth to speak but feels the strain in her throat and coughs a little before trying again.

"Was that okay?"

He moves his hands and looks as if she just asked the world's dumbest question.

"I'm pretty sure my soul left my body."

She giggles and then covers her mouth still unsure of how to behave after doing that.

It was so unexpected. She practically jumped him but from the look on his face it was no hardship to bare. So she won't apologize.

"What made you suddenly want to...?" He trails off while starting to tuck himself away, she sneaks a peek before he's covered again.

So big. How was that meant to go inside her?

She blushes at the thought.

She really was a pervert huh?

It's not until he lifts a perfectly pucked brow that she remembers that he asked a question. Oops.

"I.... Just.....I guess I have been a little bit jealous. I tried not to be because I know it's stupid but I still couldn't help it." She admits shamefaced but willing to be honest with him now.

"Why is it stupid? I get jealous about you all the time, it's natural. I want you all to myself and I want all your attention. You're allowed to be jealous too."

But he's a pop icon and idol. Surely she needs to tamper her jealousy if they're going to be together. Right?

He holds her face, dragging her closer easily .

" They can't have me the way you have me. Nobody can. I want to belong to you."

Her heart pounds at the declaration and she lets him tug her in and kiss her ever so sweetly, so different from his treatment of her mouth just minutes ago.

She thinks that he might find it weird to taste himself on her tongue but he kisses and suckles at her mouth as if it's of no concern. They make out until she's lightheaded and dizzy, somehow by the end she's wounded up in his lap.

She's too distracted by his teasing tongue to notice his fingers sneaking under her skirt to tease at her slit through her panties, lost in all these new sensations.

She wants him badly but....it's too fast. She's too nervous about being bad at it.

So she tenses up and immediately he stops and pulls away.

"Sorry! Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

And she hates how guilty he looks like he thinks she will be disappointed or upset and that's the furthest thing from the truth.

"I liked it. I always like when you touch me but...I don't think I'm ready for that yet. You don't have to.... return the favor I just wanted to make you feel good."

He blinks slowly at her and then pulls her fingers up to his lips and kisses each digit one by one.

"Okay. We can stop. We only do what you're comfortable with."

"You too. You have to be comfortable too, it's not just about me." She amends instantly and he smiles charmingly that dimple creasing his perfect face.

"Trust me I'm comfortable with everything as long as it's with you."

She smiles at his admission, confidence surging at his words.

"And to be clear I wasn't trying to return any favors, I don't think you know how badly I want to taste you."

"What are you even saying? Let's get off the floor." She swats at his bicep and tries to crawl away but he grabs her leg and holds on tight, she swallows as she feels his hot breath on her ear as he crowds into her space from behind. His spicy scent wrapping her up in a cocoon.

"I bet you taste sweet. I'd lick you until you screamed and even then I wouldn't stop. Not even if you cried again even though you looked so damn pretty crying. I'd put my fingers in you and watch them sink deep down imagining that it was my-"

"Sun Jae, please" she whimpers in his hold, clutching her legs lest she roll over and let him do everything he's promising right here and now.

"Please what Sol? What do you want baby?" He whispers back, nibbling at her lobe now.

He's called her baby before and it never fails to get her hot and bothered.

This time is no different.

"I need you..."

He moans at that grinding his revived erection into her ass and she jumps at the immediate pleasure.

"I need you to let me go."

"Okay I'll let you go. But when you go home I want you to think about me and make yourself feel good. Can you do that for me baby?"

"I can do it."

"Good girl." He pats her head and with that lets her go before offering her a hand up. She tries not to blush at how easily he can lift her but it's a losing battle.

He gives her a look but says nothing thankfully.

"You didn't give me a chance to speak earlier but I wanted to clear some things up. That fan didn't kiss me, I turned my head and I won't be doing any more fan meets for a while."

She starts to argue but he silences her with a finger on her lips.

"Shhhh. I'm not finish yet."

She nods, snapping her mouth closed.

"I did that for myself. I need break from.... everything. I feel like a piece of meat sometimes and I just need some time without being constantly objectified by strangers."

She understands. She could never handle so many people wanting her attention and doing anything to have it even if it might invading her privacy and personal space.

"And I already told my management team to put out an article denying any affiliation with that actress, I don't even know her or know why anyone would think we're dating. She's not my type."

And she wasn't aware that he had a type.

"What's your type?" She can't help but ask. Trying and failing to look nonchalant.

"A girl so short I have to break my neck to kiss her who gets so jealous of me that she jumps me in the hallway and sucks my--"

"Oh my god shut up!" She cries, punching him twice before scurrying away.

"I was going to say 'my soul out'. What did you think I was going to say! Sol! Sol, why are you running away? Answer the question."

And she races to the bathroom shutting herself inside with a giggle as he begs her to open up and promises to be good. And eventually she's weak enough to do just that and he tickles her until she's out of breath from laughter.

And even later that night, she makes good on her promise. Finger deep inside herself with nothing but Sun Jae on her mind and on her tongue.

[anamericangirl]

@sugarplum-sapphic oh I see you’ll “entertain this for a second” but you’ll turn off reblogs to make it harder for people to respond to you lol. I guess to make you feel like you did a better job responding than you actually did.

I don’t really care what you think about my blog to be honest. If seeing someone you disagree with on most things is red flag that says more about you than it does about me. But I get it. Pro-aborts like yourself tend to create echo chambers so you never have to have your ideas challenged. So I understand that seeing someone who has different opinions than you would scare you.

But since you’re “entertaining this” I’ll entertain it too. 😊

I’m curious where you got the idea that the right to life just “doesn’t apply” to this simply because the baby is dependent on their mother. I’m not aware of any documents, legal or otherwise, that state that the right to life is only applied to people who aren’t in a dependent state. So since you’re making the claim that there are some people the right to life just doesn’t apply to as if that’s an objective fact when it contradicts every single law and founding document we have you better have a pretty airtight source and reasoning for that preposterous claim. I am very curious on where you got that idea. What law or founding document did you read that made you think babies don’t have the right to life because they need their mother to maintain their life. You know babies are also dependent on others to maintain their life after being born? So I’m assuming you think it’s ok to kill babies after birth as well. Otherwise you would be inconsistent.

Ah yes. The organ donation argument. You use “classic” to describe it. I like to call it the “overused” and “thoroughly debunked” argument that y’all won’t let die even though it demonstrates that you really don’t understand what abortion is. This is why I ask y’all to actually take some time to learn about abortion before continuing to support it.

Let’s go over all the ways your kidney argument is very bad and does not justify abortion at all.

1. First, the situations are not similar. Not at all. Using a situation that does not match abortion in any way shape or form does not justify abortion. You would have to make up a similar situation in order for this to make sense. This just shows you don’t know what you’re talking about.

2. There is a big difference between not saving the life of a dying person and intentionally killing a healthy person who would have continued to live without your interference, k? Until you can understand that very big difference you are not ready for the abortion debate.

3. Organ donation does not require you to actively kill a person. Do you understand that? The only way to make organ donation comparable to abortion is if you were going to argue that it would be ok for you to then stab the person who needs the kidney after deciding not to donate yours.

4. Abortion is not organ donation. Deciding you don’t want your baby does not give you the right to commit a subsequent act of violence. It does not give you the right to actively and intentionally kill a child.

5. You’re not obligated to save the life of a dying person. You are obligated not to murder someone.

So in short, no you can’t be forced to donate a kidney but you still can’t kill babies. Get it now?

Do you understand there is a difference between dying a natural death and being murdered? It’s important that you understand that. You see, the right to life, which does apply to people even if they are in a dependent state, is not the right not to die, but it does mean other people cannot take it upon themselves to end your life.

You very clearly do not even understand bodily autonomy either. It applies to your body only and it does, in fact, have limitations. Making a decision about what happens to your body does not mean you have the right to harm another person’s body. Your bodily autonomy ends where the baby’s body begins. Because that is a different body that you don’t have bodily autonomy for. Bodily autonomy is not the right to kill. It’s very important that you understand that as well.

You mistakenly think that a sick person dying because no one donated a kidney is the same thing as inducing a heart attack in a baby and then ripping their body apart. That is extremely ignorant and I encourage you to educate yourself on this matter. Feel free to ask me any questions you have. I have a lot of resources I can share that will help you understand abortion, human rights and fetal development a lot better.

[thecameronchronicles]

Bet

TW: semi-public sexual actions. Smut. Language. Degrading language. 

SUMMARY: A Series of dares result in secrets being brought to the surface. 

WORD COUNT: 2100

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

"If you want to wuss out, that's up to you, but I'm going for bragging rights..." JJ continued to lead the parade of pogues making their way to the direction of the Crain House.  Only now, John B and Pope were stragglers while you were left with a decision to remain with the wise or continue forward with the reckless. 

"Better a wuss that's alive..." Pope spoke in a loud whisper as JJ simply responded with a middle finger catching the motion sensor and forcing all of the lights throughout the backyard to illuminate the entire scene. 

"You aren't really going are you?" John B asked as he caught your wrist. 

"Already made it this far..." The amount of overgrowth and shadow allowed you to slip undetected behind JJ's charge as he found focus to the window at the side of the house. 

"What now, Mcguver?" You teased as he pulled out his pocket knife. 

"Patience is a virtue..." You rolled your eyes and feigned a yawn before he managed to pry the window open. 

"Ladies first?" 

"I'll gladly follow behind this time."

He began to move forwards before turning back at the last second. But upon doing so, you had already advanced, which brought your lips a mere inch away from his. 

"You just wanna stare at my ass, don't you?" You pushed him forward, unintentionally knocking him ass first into the basement of the house as he grunted. 

"Always thought if you'd bruise my ass it would be from slapping it-"

"Serves you right..." You responded before dropping down in a feline stance and rising effortlessly. 

"Need help?" 

"I'm scared of your help." You pushed him forward and through the clutter of antiquated toys and furniture lining the bottom room of the house. Your eyes collecting at the more feminine of objects as he came to a baseball bat. 

"This could do some damage..." 

"I don't think any of this needs any help..." You explained while sliding your finger over the top of a shelf as dust collected at the pad of your middle digit. 

"Think anything is worth anything?" He questioned as he picked up decor colored a rusted gold. 

"Is that really all you think about?" To this question, his eyes sank to your physique. He began immediately at your chest and down to your legs, mostly exposed for the aesthetic of another pogue's summer in the Outer Banks. 

"Not all..." 

"You're a pig-" A sudden creaking of a top step led your eyes to widen before you were pulled away in the nick of time. 

"Hello?" An elderly woman's voice echoed in the small space around you as his hand wrapped over your mouth. Your body was pulled to a small cavern as he covered you with the protection of his own body. Until this moment, you hadn't made more than an obvious note of his physique. 

He was always admirable from a distance. The way he shredded waves and his muscles tensed to even the most innocent of motions would catch your eye. And yet, you wrote him off to not cross the line of pogues remaining platonic. But the mix of his body pressing into yours and the thrill of being caught made you nearly soaked at the thought alone. 

"She's going back up..." He likes towards you, reading this darker lust behind your eyes. A focus you never had focused on him. And you were shameless as your eyes fell to his lips. 

"Hey, you 'kay?' 

You nodded. "Why did you follow me? You're supposed to be smarter than me…"

"Because we already broke at least two laws...what's another? Plus, it's not that hard to be smarter…" He chuckled for a moment before pulling your hair over your shoulder, playing with the strand before meeting your eyes again. 

"Really though...why?"

"Because Pope and John B play it safe...and it's the last summer before college and I...I want to live...I want to feel alive..." His eyes fell to your lips, watching them part for him. 

"How alive?" 

"Are you offering something, JJ?"

He cocked his head before feigning a pensive silence. 

"Eh, I don't know...not sure if you could handle it, princess."

"I'm not a princess."

He pushed harder into you. 

"Sweetheart then?" His thumb brushed your nipples from over your cropped top. 

"This make you feel alive? Or just wet?" Your lips parted to speak before he reached under the crop, lifting it high enough to reveal your nipple. His eyes stayed on you as you allowed yourself to succumb to how he made you feel. His tongue rolling over your nipple as he exposed both breasts to him, a hand keeping the other one warm as he massaged it into a pinch. 

"What about the rule? We can't break it, JJ…"

"That rule was made before you made that face…those little noise…I'll gladly take the punishment…"

"Quiet..." 

"Ah...." You gasped as he kissed you to ensure you didn't make a noise. But this only led you to grind into him, finding a ready cock pained beneath his shorts. 

"I bet I can make you come for me..."

"I bet you can't make me." You responded as his hand slipped into your shorts. The immediate chill of his rings contrasting the heat of his touch itself. 

"Fuck-"

"Yeah? Oh shit..." He smirked. "This all for me?"

You nodded as he continued manipulating your nipple, but also with the added pleasure of his finger across your clit. 

"When's the last time you came...you're acting like you've never come..." You ignored him as he applied his palm to your clit. A finger threatening your point of entry. 

"Maybe..." But his finger slipped past it and moved further back. 

"I could use this one instead?" 

"Oh...JJ..." You whimpered. 

"Nah...I wanna feel it when you come..." His eyes looked to the steps. 

"I bet you can't stay quiet with two fingers..." You grunted to the pressure as he pumped slowly. 

"Fuck, that sounds so good..." 

You bit your lips closed. 

"You look good...oh shit...you want this, princess?"

"I'm not-"

"Then why are you so sweet?" He asked while brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. But in doing so, you winced at the loss to your breast. 

"You want more?"

"Please don't stop..." 

"You like when I do this?" He asked while kissing your breast, tongue over your nipple as you pulled his hand harder against you. 

"I wanna come...JJ..." You whimpered. 

"I'm not stopping you...But I bet you can't wait..." You nearly sobbed as he withdrew. He took a single step back as he observed you completely breathless for him. 

"You should always be like this..." 

"If you won't finish-" you threatened your hand to yourself as he held it in his grasp. 

"You don't get to touch yourself..." He unbuckled his belt and set your hand into his shorts. 

"You're so hard-"

"I always am around you, you fucking torture me..."

"It would be nice of me to help then, wouldn't it?" He nodded as you began to pump him. 

"Fuck..." He moaned as you reached up and isiess his neck, his palms testing on the wall beside you. 

"Bet you'll come for me..."

"Oh shit...I want to...oh fuck, I want to..."

"I want you to...JJ...I want to feel you come in my hand..."

"Shit...slow down...slow-" he winced as you only obliged when he began to cry from his tip. You brushed your thumb across his head before taking it between your lips. 

"I bet you won't get on your knees for me..."

Your brow cocked. 

"Easy..." You shrugged as you lowered to him. 

"Of fuck..." You took him against your tonsils, the lack of a gag reflex making him flex. 

"You're fucking with me..." But you only looked at him from beneath damp lashes and took him deeper. Faster. 

"Oh my God..." He forced you to take him completely. 

"Careful..."

"Stand the fuck up..." But you shook your head again, taking him faster. He looked down to you, wincing in pain before taking you against the wall, hand over your mouth. 

"You make one fucking noise and everyone from the axe murder of this house to our friends outside are gonna know how much of a fucking slut you are for me...and I don't think twice about it..."

"Fuck me." You whimpered into his hand as he paused. 

"Put it in...you know where it belongs...right..." He groaned as he hiked your leg to his hip, your shorts dripping to your ankle as you were taken against the wall even sharper. 

"Yes...yes..." He wrapped his hand harder around your mouth as he devoured your breast. 

"JJ..." 

"She's gone..." He pulled you across the basement and onto a table, sweeping it clean with an arm, and bending you over it. 

"Fuck...You gonna come for me? Bet you will..."

"Bet you'll come first..." You retorted as he scoffed. 

"Oh shit, I just might..." He folded himself over you, turning you to kiss him before leading that second hand to your clit. 

"Let it go...stop fighting me...I can feel you..." You clenched around him. 

"Yes...yes...keep doing that..."

"This?" You teased as he tore your shirt off your shoulder and but into the exposed skin. 

"Yes...baby, just like that...oh shit..."

"You wanna come?" 

"Oh I'm gonna...just not yet..." You whimpered. "I'm not done..." He pulled you up to his chest. 

"I want you to keep whimpering for me..." He flicked your nipple as you offered those moans to him and he quickened his thrusts. 

"JJ...oh My God..."

"Yeah? Someone gonna come? Hmmm? You not so ahead of me as you thought?" 

"Ah...JJ...oh...ohhhh..."

"Yes baby...all over me...come all-" He scoffed as you shook, promoting his own release as he battered you into the edge of the table. 

"Keep coming...I want you to keep fucking coming... pussy so good..." He gripped your hair. 

"It's all yours..." To this, he grunted, forcing you to drip for him until he pulled you to face him. He took you this way, wincing at the overstimulation. Whimpering for you. 

"I want more..." He groaned. 

"I bet you can't handle it..." 

"I bet you're gonna come again..."

"I could..." You teased, moaning for him as he lost control of himself within you once again. Only now, moaning and pleasing into your skin. 

"I'm gonna fucking ruin this pussy for anyone else..."

"You already have...Oh, JJ...it's yours..." 

"Yeah?" He pulled himself away from you, stroking himself through your folds. 

"You're so mean..."

"It feels so good...look at me..." His expression made you moan. 

"JJ please..."

"I need to make you come again..." He was on his knees, tugging on himself as he was pulling you to the edge of the table. 

"I wanna feel you come on my face...think you can? I bet you can. I bet you can, hard for me, right?" 

"Oh...." But once again the drop step squeaked. 

"Quiet." 

"I can't...it's too..." Two fingers made this worse as you swore you left reality. Your orgasm crashing from heaven itself as your body collapsed towards him and he nodded into you. 

"Keep coming..." He grinned into your thigh, his breathing pattern labored by his own second release before you pulled him against you. 

"If I have to be quiet, so do you..." 

"I bet you can't." You teased as he clenched his jaw as you kissed his neck again, finding a sweet spot that sent him to submit into you. Your body riding against his as you are etching your desperate nails into his shoulders. Your hand was as sore as your thighs and yet nothing stopped you from wanting to feel him come undone once again. But he wore the same convictions as you bucked into him and found initial release in unison. 

"What the fuck happened to you guys in there?" John B asked when you finally made it out, narrowly escaping the owner. Hair a mess and marks of red and beginning bruising worn over you both.

"We have to go!" Pope spoke desperately as you rushed to The Twinkie. Rather quickly, Pope and John B would reprimand you both before facing into their own conversation. All while you and JJ focused on each other. 

"I bet you are still thinking about it..." He mouthed to you. 

"I bet you want more..."

"I bet you'll let me.."

"I bet you wouldn't do anything now..." You spoke into his ear as he slipped his hand over your thigh. 

"I bet you'll be mine before I make you come again."

"You've already lost that..." He hesitated his touch. "I already am..."

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel@phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

2ND JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-Read: The Remington Comic [PART 3]

TOME 12

What is this... thing? This is some very strange magic. We need to have a closer look. Do you really think you can escape that easily? Admit that... it's not like you can escape down there easy and avoid all the traps.

Joris's first reaction to this is literally "i NEED to know what the fuck that is. and if i have to take these two injured people there, so be it."

Also, yes, Ush's tower has a lot of traps. Love how Joris went up here with no plan of how to go down. I guess he really believes in his luck... just like an ecaflip.

When I saw a little guy climb the wall, I was… stunned. But to leave this place with a wounded man and a battered eniripsa, that's another matter. I know, but what do you propose? To fight? You saw me come in, and you didn't raise the alarm, which is quite unusual… I can still do it. Getting out of here before everything collapses would be better… for all of us. Obviously, the urgency of the situation benefits you. But we'll deal with that later. Just follow me!

"if you wanted to beat the shit out of me, you would have done it already." Never change, Joris.

These panels go out to my Ush enjoyer readers. Also: this comic takes place around 2 years before Wakfu the Animated Series. Ush is 7-9yo at best by the time of the OVA, and 10 by seasons 3-4. This might point to the fact that Ecaflip demigods age faster on their next lives.

That, or it might point to Ankama not giving a shit.

But he does look like a (tall) child in the OVA, and like a teen by time of S3-4

He has his muscular years in the future. Also I guess his cat lovers don't give a shit, but eh, there's bigger ethical concerns about their relationship than the age of his physical body.

Anyway, now onto what is the most important Joris moment of this comic, to me:

We must hurry. A terrible danger threatens bonta. It can't be worse than letting you escape.

Yeah, sure, lady. Joris and 2 criminals are a bigger danger to Bonta than a giant kaiju. Now, read closely, because this moment here has some fascinating Joris lines:

If Ush scares you so much, maybe it's time to run away with us. Yeah… no. It's not that simple. You're in love with him. That's why you can't leave your master. What?! No… but… you're crazy! It's okay to be in love. But I'm not in love with him!

(putting on tinfoil hat) Geez Joris, it almost sounds like you yourself have ecaflip issues. Like you've been unable to leave someone for centuries because you love someone too much, despite their flaws, and the way they may have hurt you. It almost sounds like you made peace with that. "It's okay to be in love", huh?

Context for the next scenes: After some time, they try to kill the kaiju, but it backfires, and Ush gets hurt instead.

nothing will stop it now… let's run. Opus, you're an eniripsa. Save him. Yes… Have mercy… Save him! After all the harm he's done me? What's the point? Please… A restorative word should give him back some energy… but I doubt he'll escape unscathed. Beating heart… You were right here. It's the best I can do… he'll last a few hours, but he'll… die of his burns. So maybe it's time for beating heart to be used.

Joris's expressions here are so beautiful... He doesn't seem too bothered by seeing Ush's burned, dying body. It's pretty funny.

You can wear Beating Heart around your neck, and it will give you all which you desire the most. Ahh… everything… that I desire? Or you can use it to annihilate this monster. If it swallows this object… then the power of it should stop it. I can do that, I'd rather die in glory than live through a defeat. I'm going to save Bonta! and nothing can stop me now, not even death. beating heart… beating heart… out of sight… out of mind… will you give your soul the time? beating heart… beating heart… will you give your time the soul? Ush... No...

@dullard and I have talked a lot about the relationship between Ush and Joris, despite how little of it is shown. (he is the Ush enjoyers I was mentioning. all the Ush screencaps are meant for him. hi.)

In those convos we came to the next thoughts: Ush probably views Joris as Kerubim's weird little son, or Kerubim and Atcham's pet. But also, despite Ush viewing Joris in a bit of a low light, he is much smarter and cooler than Kerubim and Atcham — truly the best thing to come from his cringe brothers. He likes toying with him more than he likes toying with Kerubim and Atcham — because Joris doesn't react easily, which makes his reactions more satisfying.

Despite that, they both care for Bonta, and being "a good person", in their own unique ways. So, it is easy for them to put aside their differences, for the most part.

I personally find it fascinating how subtle Joris is about suggesting Ush to sacrifice himself. As subtle as a wrecking ball.

You should never have stolen it from me. Yes… but thanks to us, it was used to save Bonta. And me… who will save me from the curse now that Ush is gone? You must seek the wisdom that remains in you, not the instinct that dominates you. this wisdom will one day overcome your curse.

[always sunny in philadelphia music begins playing] Grany stays a cat for at least the next 10 years, maybe longer, maybe forever.

...Joris has too much hope in these two.

Also, small personal comment: Joris is so pretty on the second image... Very cute head shape. You can just see his baby-ish cheeks, lmaoo.

Beating heart, beating heart… erase the weapons, bide your time.

This is like a renaissance painting. Some guys celebrating. Grany disgusted by Remington making out with his Opus (who seems to have left him by Wakfu series' time LMAOO), somewhere off-screen, there's a crying woman because Ush is fucking dead and Joris didn't bother telling her something like "Don't worry he'll remember you. Dying isn't much of an issue for him." Instead, Joris is going away, hands behind his back, reciting poetry again.

Beautiful.

Yes, master... Your meal just arrived. Nine lives... And I remain as devoted as ever to each of your reincarnations. You need a new name for this new life. (Hoping he won't be as bad-tempered as before.)

Bad news, bestie: he will be. His previous deaths hadn't fixed this either.

Tell me, young lady... You seem very sad. Oh... it's a long story. A love story? Great stories... are always love stories.

I kind of hate Joris for giving her the wonderful idea of wasting her mortal life on some immortal guy who might never love her back. But also. He did give advice based on first-hand experience. To him, spending your entire life with a demigod is both noble and awesome and fulfilling.

Except that's his family, he's also immortal like his family, and he kind of hates everyone else in the world who ISN'T his family, so I'll be real, I think he's biased.

[beatingtheouijaboardallegations]

do think we have some important perspective to say about the ‘all nonspeaking / nonverbal people can read minds & literally send secret message to each other across time & space. and access so much spiritual better connect to g-d in ways speaking people can’t ever’ bullshit. thta becoming so so so popular even among people we respect in nonspeaking space cause that fucking podcast being promoted everyone un escapable if in S2C etc center space. but so scared of responses because is one of my most needed communities , already thin ice don’t want to completely make people hate me who could be only bridge to connect people like me.

as dissociative person / collective , who different alters have gone through diffrent stages of thinking can read minds. and who thought could all read minds and talk to people not there before realize there is people in my brain. thinking of that one girl in head. formed because trauma from growing up thought of not human treated as worse than alien worse than object as nonthinking nonfeeling. believes will return to “ her world” where we are powerful and understood and don’t have body that needs this much care can exist as a self not need others so sheerly. believes is telepathic with that world a d also that can hear thoughts of all other nonspeakers and talk back n forth.

we dont have good enough communication for me to. ‘interview’ her for an article or do back and forth discussion debate. but she has been dormant and then sudden took over while listening to That Fucking podcast ( for ‘research’ purpose) because of course she would. and now has so much more ‘evidence’ for the trauma beliefs (is whole web of belief have barely scratch surface here) act so smug about it so annoying, know is a part of me but hate what she does to us

and think that even though many nonspeakers who have these beliefs (and their parents and professionals around them also do) not plural and not have DID OSDD ect. 1. so few of us given language understand experience of selfves experience of dissociation & multipleness & substitute beliefs & fear and trauma. so few of us get any type therapy at all good or bad , or just therapy that follows parent religion , or just behavior and ‘ skill build’ therapy and maybe psych meds and few coping strategies taught but no pne to actually explore depths of how we feel, cause not seen as able feel only able to act. i mean only reason selfves found out language of DID exists is because being on tumblr , have access to internet and informatijom not pre approve by authority & the motor plans n cognitive ease of looking through information freely was something that cultivated and early supported after learning to type. and also immersed in queer trans communities through partner and local places , where have met some other systems who willing compare notes on experience. which most nonspeaking nonverbal people dont get.

and 2. any traumatized people especially people face specifc kind trauma of grow up full life nonspeaking presume incompetent. more likely build up all kinds ideas necessary to surviving and can see exactly how when you spend life just as fly on the wall observinf the world not affecting it, no one is teaching you how to communicate in the most full most easy way possible for body mind , being abused in the big and small ways in special ed and by staff and doctors and talked about in most awful ways while you are right there. “i am telepathic” can be belief that so so so needed to survive that hell. so can “i can talk to everyone else going through this and we can fight together with just our minds from miles away.” and do relate so deeply to nonspeakers who talk about these things.

the problem lies when peope who are not us. parents or doctors or spiritual healing bio med podcaster people. take those trauma beliefs and make them so very literal, as part of their ( usually fundamental Christian or heavy based on that) beliefs that they want nonspeakers to also hold. will turn us into these prophetic creatures when we are very young instead if just letting us be people. which is terrible for thos of us who actually hold these beliefs and experience. we not getting chance to explore what means for us, in all the depths in all the ways we need to. just taken as “holy shit my kid can read my mind” broadcast everywhere like party trick treated like something other than human. which is same place trauma lies in first place, is two sides of same coin. it is all so anger making and not what any of us deserve.

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

(Very late book 3)

Lilia, Dusk, Malleus, Silver, and Sebek were all in the Diasomnia lounge together. Each doing their own separate things until Silver pipes up.

Silver: Father, you raised two fae, a human, and helped with a half fae, right?

Lilia: *looking up from his phone* Correct? Why?

Silver: What was that like?

Lilia: I’ve told you many stories from when you were younger. Is there anything specific you want to know?

Dusk: …

Malleus: I also helped with you two, for the record.

Dusk: No need for jealousy, Malleus.

Malleus: I’m not jealous.

Silver: *jumping back in before they fight* I mean the differences between fae and humans. You have first hand experience with all of us. It’s just more understandable hearing it from someone than a textbook.

Lilia: I have experience with you, but that’s with you. Not a whole species, or even a majority. I don’t know if four kids can help me speak for everything.

Silver: But were there any differences?

Sebek: Of course! Fae are far stronger and robust than humans.

Lilia: Actually not much for the early years. Malleus is a dragon, so that’s more of an exception.

Sebek: Of course, my liege is far better than humans even by infancy!

Dusk: Hey! I don’t count? Aren’t I part of the “stronger and more robust” group too?

Malleus: Yes, but I’m better than you.

Lilia: Before another fight starts! I wouldn’t say Malleus was better, just different. Plus he was still an infant and didn’t do much. For more common fae like Dusk, it was quite similar to Silver.

Sebek: We’re there any differences?

Lilia: Personality. And magic of course. Humans typically develop it later while fae have it from infancy. So fae children basically learn to use it with the rest of their body while humans already have some control. Which also meant Dusk tended to have accidental outbursts, accidentlly moving nearby objects or just scaring himself. And Malleus too.

Silver: *trying to hide snickering*

Dusk and Malleus: Dad…/Lilia…

Lilia: What? It’s true. I think Sebek fell more inline with humans in that aspect, but I don’t know. I just wasn’t told about any magical outbursts issues.

Sebek: We’re you told for any of my siblings?

Lilia: I don’t think so.

Silver: How did you keep up with each kid considering each one you had is different.

Lilia: Well Sebek has his parents and Baul. I had Malleus helping with you, as well as some experience. For Malleus, his grandmother helped slightly and so did castle workers, but I also had some experience with Dusk even if it wasn’t one to one. And for Dusk, Baul helped quite a bit, even got books on him that I used a lot for each one of you.

Sebek: Grandfather helped raise Dusk?!

Lilia: He visited from time to time.

Dusk: Yeah, I remember seeing him some times. He came back more than any other visitor.

Sebek: *turns to Dusk* Why did you never mention seeing my grandfather before?! You never told me! I would have thought you would recognize me!

Dusk: I left when I was four! You expect me to remember him that easily? I used most of time remembering my dad. I did find you familiar, but that was it. *turns to Lilia* But what books did he give you? I don’t remember seeing any.

Lilia: Just some infancy books he used for Sebek’s mom. It probably wasn’t anything you saw me reading other than to check things like general milestones or just tips.

Dusk: Oh, yeah. Totally forgot about his mom.

Sebek: My mother is amazing! How dare-

Dusk: Actually if I had stayed and our families were just as close as they are now. I might have been on the same level as Sebek’s mom, if Baul and Dad were on a level together. I might have ended up closer to her, maybe even a younger brother. *looks at Sebek* I could have been an uncle to you.

Sebek: *reflexive* No!

—

Dusk probably would have still been a big brother figure or even cousin. Even if Sebek’s mom saw him as a little brother, he would have probably still been sort of an older brother to Sebek.

(But there’s also the fact Sebek would have sworn loyalty to Dusk in the same way he did Lilia… That would have affected their relationship too…)

(Part of me would've been like "Damn, Sebek, he could've been your potential dad" Which would've cracked me up, but it's better this way)

Lilia, smirking: Aw, Sebek, you wouldn't want Dusk as your uncle?

Sebek: SEVENS NO!

Silver: Me doth think Sebek protests too much.

Sebek: SILVER!

Mallues: And an increase in volume as well.