#or what the difference between foundation and concealer is …

[charmac]

do you have any thoughts on transfem dennis

Not really well elaborate ones but I like the idea and would love to see some headcanons/ideas/fanfics on the subject.

I kinda follow the idea that it's something that's always been a part of Dennis, and used to be more prominent. Especially when he was a kid and grew up alongside Dee, played dress-up with her, learned makeup with her, envied her beauty pageants and the ability to just, be feminine. Though his mother hated Dee and with late 80s/90s culture, it was something that was shut out of his life and repressed. Now we watch as it’s slowly seeped back through a little bit of dress up and thongs and some makeup, to always wearing makeup, applying mascara right in the car and revealing he picks up men with his mommy kink.

I think Dennis is still unlabelled when it comes to gender and sexuality, because there’s so much there and that’s okay, I like that a lot. So it’s a cool concept to explore, that I desperately want to see more of.

[leqonsluv3r]

hii could you do some headcanons abt re4 leon dating a coquette reader? i loved your abt re2 leon but got me thinking how would re4 be <3

bf!leon kennedy

—re4!leon kennedy x soft!croquette reader, a headcanon list

masterlist taglist

an: the brainrot is real, it’s like ur reading my mind anon <33 thank you :,)

bf!leon kennedy who will spend hours after getting back from a mission just laying in your pink frilly sheets, hundreds of stuffed animals around. he doesn’t even care. the sheets smell like you and it’s a welcomed reprieve after being back from spain

bf!leon kennedy who helps you reach things on the top shelf of your shared apartment because you can’t reach. no matter how much he loves seeing you try to wiggle and grasp for something despite your short height.

bf!leon kennedy who keeps one hand on your thigh and the other on the wheel when he drives. you insist on driving but he refuses, he loves driving you around. his attention split between you and the road.

bf!leon kennedy spending almost all of his hard earned government paycheck just so you can have anything your heart desires. pretty pink dresses, ribbons, clothes, perfumes and books. anything that makes you happy makes him happy.

bf!leon kennedy teasing you for your endless supply of stuffed animals and books. saying you act like a doll or a child. even though he secretly loves how deep your love for the stuffed things goes.

bf!leon kennedy who hates pink but it’s slowly learning to love it as you guys live together. the pink and white things seem to overrule his heart and his hatred. seeing how much you love it, makes his heart melt. even if he hates pink sheets, he’ll sleep in them, make love to you in them and cuddle you in them, if that’s what you want.

bf!leon kennedy letting you kiss and smooch all over his face with your expensive lipstick. he doesn’t mind, not if your way of claiming him is kisses in different kinds of lipsticks and shades. not when you get all giggly when you finish and he returns the favor in a different way.

bf!leon kennedy who nibbles on your neck and jaw, getting you all worked up and getting you back for the markings of lipstick all over his face and neck. he marks you in his own way, pretty hickeys that will fade onto your skin once he’s finished.

bf!leon kennedy watching you the next day as you dab concealer and foundation onto the hickeys, sending him a glare over your shoulder. he has no shame, he doesn’t even care. just marking what’s his the same way you did with your silly lipstick.

bf!leon kennedy letting you tie one of your ribbons around his bicep, doing it loosely on each one. pretty pink just as he suspected. he knows what your doing, the way your gaze eats up the ribbons loosely tied around the muscles of his arms.

bf!leon kennedy flexing his muscles on his biceps as the ribbons come untied and drop to the floor of your guys shared bedroom. you eat it up and keep making him do it until your practically drooling all over your pink frilly comforter that your kneeling on.

bf!leon kennedy who teases your stupid ribbons but has fun tying your wrists to the headboard with them, devouring your body with his lips and hands until your whining and begging for release.

bf!leon kennedy grabbing onto you from behind when your doing something in the kitchen or in your guys apartment. pressing kisses to your neck that make you blush and giggle. he will never get tired of your laugh or the little noises you make.

bf!leon kennedy who watches you devour a romance novel on the couch next to him, making noises when something happens in the book, your attention not on him for once. he’s jealous of fictional characters bound in the pages of a book, figures.

bf!leon kennedy who will gladly take you out, let you dress up and get pretty for him. he loves seeing you all made up in whatever you choose, your hair all pretty and styled. and lipstick that he has no doubt will get ruined later.

bf!leon kennedy letting you take your time eating and sipping on your drink. your hand rubbing on his knee absentmindedly having no idea what your doing to him with that innocent little touch under the dinner table of the restaurant. 

bf!leon kennedy who waits until your back at your guys apartment before devouring your lips, smudging your lipstick and running his hands into your hair. he’ll untangle the ribbon and run his hands through your styled hair, making it messy. just because he can.

bf!leon kennedy who fucks you like his life depends on it, he knows you can take it. always the good girl for him. he will press kisses to your lips, your legs over his shoulders as his hips slap against yours, making the prettiest sounds slip from your lips.

bf!leon kennedy who is big on aftercare, wiping the insides of your thighs and rubbing soothing circles on the length of your spine as you relax against him beneath the pink sheets of your guys bed. pressing kisses to your hairline and showering you with praise and affection.

bf!leon kennedy who tells you he loves you every single day. doesn’t ever not tell you, he doesn’t have it in him. one look with those eyes of yours and he’s a puddle of a man, confessing his love for you.

an: u guys know the drill <33 reblog, like and my asks are open. you can find all my other shit in the masterlist linked at the beginning and my asks are open!! i’ll be posting a one shot soon, promise. i love you guys <33 kisses xx.

[hearts4golbach]

Hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff to smut? 🙏🏼

Blushed.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Authors note: I have seen this idea used a few times on tumblr from a few different people, so this is unoriginal, but I've really wanted to write this.

warning: smut.

"What's up guys, welcome back to my channel!" I hollered, imitating certain YouTubers. I had always found intros to be hilarious. "Today, I'm with my boyfriend, Johnnie Guilbert." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to be making him normal."

Johnnie rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yippee. I'm being tortured." he made jazz hands.

I covered his mouth quickly, attempting to act suspiciously. "This was his idea.. anyway!" I pushed him so he was sitting on my bed. I pulled the first product out of my makeup bag. "This is primer, which you know about, obviously. so there's nothing new there."

I stood in between his legs and began to apply the primer, smearing it all over his face. he gripped my waist softly, looking up at me with a sweet smile. I glanced away, trying not to get too worked up over a simple gesture. I smiled to myself and finished rubbing it all in.

"Great!" I said sarcastically, moving so the camera could see. "shit, I have to pin up your bangs." I grabbed two clips from my dresser. I parted his hair in the middle, clipping his midnight black hair on either side of his face.

he slapped his hand over his forehead, "Not the six head." he snorted before removing his hand.

"You do not have a six head," I rolled my eyes, placing a kiss on his forehead before moving on. I pulled the next product out of the bag. "Funny story, I had to go out and buy Johnnie a whole different foundation because he's too pale for mine."

Johnnie made a finger gun, pointing it at the camera and sticking his tongue out with a laugh. "it's because all I do is play fortnite." he smirked.

"I know." I retorted as I wet my beauty blender. I placed dots of foundation around his face, fighting the urge to kiss him as I did so. "Okay, cute! perfect shade match." I moved put of the cameras view.

Johnnie checked himself out in the mirror, raising and dropping his eyebrows. "Uncanny Valley."

"Okay, well, I've barely done anything yet, so.." I trailed off, digging through the bag. "Next, concealer. Which, you also know of because I'm sure you go through a lot of it." I teased, tapping his nose before standing in front of him again.

his hands made their way to my waist as I focused on putting the liquid in the right place to highlight his face. he slowly moved his hands down, so they were on my ass.

"johnnie!" I scolded, "im going to have to edit that out."

he smirked, laughing at my comment. "I'd leave it in."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." I retorted, going back to blending the concealer.

he had moved his hands back up, and now they were on my hips. his thumbs rubbed circles into my skin, making me shiver under his touch. I cleared my throat awkwardly as he laughed under his breath at my reaction.

I pulled away, revealing his face to the camera. I tapped his cheeks before moving on. "Next, we have blush, contour, and bronzer." I picked up the 3 products, showing the camera.

I began working on his face once more as he hummed, I wasn't sure what song. I stuck my finger under his chin, "Look up at me." he did as told, gazing into my eyes. "Thank you, baby." I smiled before getting to work on his contour. his cheekbones contoured nicely, making me grow more eager for him by the second.

I turned around, clearly distracted. "uh, next step." I stuttered, reaching into the bag. "highlighter."

my brush grazed over his cheeks and nose before gently tapping the inner corner of his eyes. "ah! my eye clit!" johnnie blinked rapidly.

"oh my god." I rolled my eyes, "okay, the last couple steps are mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow."

using a light pink eyeshadow, I colored in Johnnie's eyelids. I did a small wing before curling his lashed and putting mascara on them.

"what if I put lashes on you?" I pondered, putting up the mascara.

"oh, god." he replied dreadfully. "can I see myself now?"

I sighed before grinning at him. "I guess." I handed him a mirror and impatiently waited for his reaction.

"damn, would I fuck myself?" he pondered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, its how I do my makeup every day so..." I joked. "wait! I forgot your lipstick, how could I be so stupid?" I pulled out a musty pink lipstick and quickly applied it. "okay, now youre done."

I recorded my outro, desperate to shut the damn camera off. after turning it off, I grabbed the makeup wipes.

"you ready to take it off?" I asked him.

he eagerly nodded. "yes, please."

I climbed into his lap, "you did so good, thank you for recording that with me."

he hummed at the praise, I felt his member grow slightly under me. "anytime." his hands moved down to my ass once more, gently squeezing.

I bucked into him, trying not to make any noises as I wiped off the rest of the makeup. "shit, johnnie."

he smirked and kissed me softly, his hands moving down my thighs. I leaned into the kiss. Johnnie's hand made its way up my shirt, gently massaging my boob while the other kneaded my inner thigh. "you're such a tease." he whispered onto my lips.

I hummed in response. he quietly groaned into the kiss, his body pressed against mine. my hands flew up to his head, getting tangled in his hair. I began to deepen the kiss, wanting more. I moaned quietly, making his hips roll up against me. "God, you're so hot." I say breathlessly before smashing my lips onto his.

his tongue danced with mine as his hands explored my body. "you're killing me, I need you. now." he said desperately.

I nodded eagerly, "please, johnnie." I pleaded, moaning as he began kissing down my neck.

he trailed kisses along my collar bone, nipping and sucking at the tender skin. he left light hickeys all over, groaning into my skin. "I'm so crazy for you."

"johnnie, i-" I was cut off by a moan as he went back to attacking my neck.

I felt him smirk against my skin. "I love it when you say my name like that." I felt his erection pressed against my clothed pussy. "lay down for me, babe."

I did as told, crawling off his lap and laying back on the bed. he slipped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra as he kissed down my stomach. I wiggled under his touch, wanting more. he undid my jeans and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. he kicked off his own pants and shirt aswell, leaving both of us in our underwear. I bit my lip, moaning softly at the sight of his erection.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered, tucking my hair out of my face before kissing me again. "you ready?"

I nodded eagerly. "please, johnnie. I need you so bad." I whimpered as he positioned himself between my legs.

"tell me what you need, baby." he whispered, lust burning in his eyes. I tried to pull him closer, but he pulled away. "use your words."

"fuck, I want your cock, johnnie." I whimpered.

"atta girl." he smirked, pulling my panties off and tossing them along with my jeans. "Jesus, you're so beautiful."

I moaned quietly as he nibbled at my neck. I clawed at his back, pulling him closer. "stop teasing." I pleaded.

he nodded, listening to my request. I felt his hard tip press against my entrance. he slowly pushed inside of me, groaning at the feeling of filling me up. "so fucking tight." he muttered.

"oh my god, yes." I moan quietly.

johnnie groaned, pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I gasped as he began to thrust slowly, making my walls grip tightly around him. "God, I love the pretty sounds you make."

his words made my jaw fall, letting a low moan escape. he picked up his speed, his hips slapping against my wetness as he thrusted deeper. "jesus- oh, shit." I stuttered.

johnnie groaned, rolling his eyes back as he lost himself in pleasure. "oh, fuck- thats it. give it to me."

"keep going, oh shit!" I moaned into his neck. he moved sweaty hair out of my face before kissing me roughly.

his thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slammed against mine as he took me roughly. "fuck, you're amazing." he whimpered onto my lips.

"fuck, give it to me, baby." I moaned, digging my hands into his back. he growled softly as he pushed deeper inside of me, pausing for a moment before pulling out and slamming back into me.

his thrusts became ever more forceful, his cock hitting my cervix with each powerful thrust. "does this feel good, baby? fuck, you're so good." he kissed my neck.

"yes, o-oh my god, yes. don't stop. i-im close!" I panted.

his thrusts became more erratic, his hips slapping into me one last time before he released inside of me. I came along with him, my orgasm rushing through my whole body. I went limp, watching as he collapsed next to me.

"Oh my god." he whispered, kissing me softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you more."

[crybabylulu]

I had a two second thought of like modern Lin getting a FaceTime call from her younger girlfriend that wants to show off doing her makeup and then I also thought about Jason Todd getting a FaceTime call from his girl doing the same thing so I give you both I also thought about doing this as a TikTok like pov you call Jason or Lin and make them watch you do your makeup 🤣

Lin: *answers the facetime* yes baby

Y/N: I’m doing my makeup and you need to watch me

Lin: baby I’m working

Y/N: idc it’s important to my girlhood that you watch me

Lin: *sighs* ok baby

Y/N: now first we start with primer it’s very important

Lin: why?

Y/N: it makes the makeup stick *putting on her primer*

Lin: oh ok

Y/N: mhm now skin tint

Lin: what’s the difference between skin tint and foundation?

Y/N: idk

Jason Todd version

Jason: *answer’s the call* yes baby girl

Y/N: hi JJ! I’m doing my makeup so you have to watch

Jason: gets me out of doing work. Show me your skills doll

Y/N: yay! First we start with primer

Jason: I thought you use concealer first?

Y/N: 1. I don’t know how to conceal and 2. Who do you fuck in the city when I’m not there?

Jason: don’t throw drake lyrics at me and what the fuck you mean?

Y/N: why do you know what concealer is?

Jason: baby please can we get on to the tutorial my little star?

Y/N: mhm anyways *puts on her primer* next we do a skin tint

Jason: not foundation?

Y/N: again who do you fuck in the city when I’m not there?

Jason: *sighs* doll please

[kingalpharhys]

ELITE CHANGES I: UNRECOGNIZED OR HESITANCY TO ASCEND AND EVOLVE

Chapter I of the new five-part text collaboration between Alpha Rhys and Avis Sapiens

I want you to be honest with yourself for a moment; do you like change? If you lie, you're only hurting yourself. It's totally alright not to like change. It's hard to accept change, especially as we grow and shift in our lives. We tend to cling to certain versions of ourselves; versions we feel are more palatable for those around us. Perhaps we have good memories attached to those versions of ourselves; or maybe we just found a shit ton of success a certain way, and we're afraid to let that go. Why fix what isn't broken, right brahs?

We generally tend to let this resistance to change rule our lives. Whether it's consciously or not is a different story; the fact of the matter still stands. Say you found the most sexual success as a frat brah during your junior year of college, or you've reached your personal peak financial heights whilst in a certain position at work. These things tend to keep us almost frozen in time; leaving us to endlessly strive for that same situation to continue with all its associated benefits in tow. Resistant to acknowledge, at least publicly, the personal growth we've done out of fear that those successes will cease once we realize said growth. I hate to break it to you, brahs, but we change. We grow. It's healthy, it's natural and it's human.

Living in denial over that fact doesn't make the growth cease; nor does it make us any less of what we hold so proudly about ourselves. After all, growth and evolution build upon established foundations; it doesn't tear them done or invalidate them. To the contrary, being unwilling to accept the natural growth to our fullest elite potential will actually do the exact opposite of what we think it does. We think by concealing our personal growth, by putting on a show to please ourselves and those around us with the familiarity of our perceived best, we will stop the natural way from taking its course. Really, we're just stunting ourselves. When we refuse to grow into the men we are meant to be, we are effectively robbing ourselves and those around us of our truest greatness. It's fucking hard to elvolve, I know firsthand; but it's even harder to live a stale existence in spite of the potential greatness, held back by our own selves.

Primary author: Alpha Rhys (@kingalpharhys)

Additional conceptual input and editing: Avis Sapiens (@avissapiens)

[peachybeom]

hickeys ♡

slight suggestive

beomgyu x reader

You stared intensely at the empty bottle of concealer in your hand, as if your continuous gaze would magically refill the product which was now hollowed out inside it.

Defeated, you set down the bottle on the slab and inspected yourself in the large mirror situated in front of you.

You were dressed in a strapless black dress, for which you had saved up for almost an entire month.

Your makeup was light but sophisticated and hair rested gently on your shoulders in long beachy curls.

This look was as admirable as you can present yourself to be, and you were satisfied with it- until your eyes again travelled to the giant reddish blue bruise imprinted firmly on your neck.

You cursed your luck, when you found out that you had run out of the concealer, one you usually used often to cover these love bites, because everything else in your makeup kit just seemed not to be doing the trick.

You tried everything-using three different shades of foundation, excessively rubbing your skin with a toothbrush, even spraying your hair stiff to hide the sore spot but nothing seemed to be working.

You let out an irritated scream and slammed your hands loudly on your vanity.

Today was one of the most important day in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. You two had been going out for almost an year and Beomgyu’s parents had invited you to their yearly business celebratory dinner.

You knew this dinner was a big deal because it was supposed to be attended by important people along with family, the higher ups who held valuable assets in Choi Businesses so naturally you had planned well in advance, picking out your dress weeks ago, practicing civil conversations one could have with their boyfriend’s parents again and again in your head so you could leave a good impression on them.

“Is everything alright babe?” Beomgyu asked in a concerned tone.

You turned to look at your boyfriend and your breath almost got caught up in your throat.

He was still in the middle of getting dressed, hair slicked back neatly and shirt buttoned up halfway through the top.

Choi Beomgyu screamed perfection, without even trying.

You quickly brought yourself back to reality and scowled at him.

“This is your fault,” You said pointing at the hickey now almost turning red.

It was indeed his fault. Last night Beomgyu acted unusually needy and demanded attention. One too many glasses of wine later you both found yourselves on the couch exploring every crook and crevices of each other’s body while a marvel movie played out in the background softly.

Beomgyu stepped closer, and bent slightly almost closing the gap between the two of you.

“Wha-what are you doing?” You stuttered at the sudden proximity.

“Hmm I think I could have done better,” Beomgyu responded in an amused tone, touching your neck gently.

“Beomgyu!” You slapped his arm and pointed at the clear bottle placed at the side of your table.

“I ran out of the concealer and now I have no idea how to cover this up, I’ve tried doing everything-oh my God we only have an hour and half left!” You panicked burying your face in your hands, this was not how you planned to start your evening.

“Hey hey hey it’s fine we will figure something out,” Beomgyu said holding your hand in his, biting back a smile.

The truth was that you were making a big fuss of the party. Though today was an important day, Beomgyu knew that his parents would adore you as soon as they met you.

They wouldn’t mind if you didn’t act perfect- nobody would but still he let you plan and plot every move for tonight just because he thought you looked cute doing it.

“Let’s try looking up on the internet yeah?” Beomgyu said in an attempt to calm you down.

After a few minutes, there you both sat on the floor of the bedroom, makeup brushes and palettes scattered everywhere in the room.

“How about we cover it up with a band aid?” Your boyfriend suggested as he scrolled through his phone searching for remedies on hiding hickeys- his search history similar to a teenage girl who just spent the night at her crush’s house for the first time.

“No that would look too odd,” You responded pouting.

“You know what I think I should just give up and change into something else, even though this dress costed a fortune,” You continued in a disappointed tone.

“No I found something! wait a minute,” Beomgyu exclaimed loudly before getting up and leaving the room hurriedly.

After a while Beomgyu returned with an ice filled bowl and sat down next to you.

“Tilt your head,” He ordered.

You carefully obliged and closed your eyes involuntarily when the small block of ice came in contact with your skin.

“I’m supposed to rub it on the hickey for a few minutes and it will disappear,” Beomgyu explained, but you hardly paid attention because the sensation of the ice mixed along with his breath on neck for even just a second had you on cloud nine.

A few minutes would be torture.

Beomgyu seemed to have caught on your reaction and decided to tease you further.

He purposely added another ice cube between his fingers and your neck and applied slight pressure causing it to melt faster.

“Almost done, just a little more,” He whispered, lips grazing your ear seductively.

You bit your tongue in response holding back your breathe successfully.

“Or we can speed it up a bit,” Beomgyu moved closer to your neck and gently licked the droplets of water forming just on top of your hickey.

“Oh my god,” You let out breathy moan, tightening your grip on the chair next to you.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you Y/N?” Beomgyu smirked as he moved his lips upwards to nibble at your ear.

You tried to reason with yourself, reaching out for Beomgyu’s hand which was now slowly making its way towards your cleavage. He applied a bit more pressure pressing the now melted cube of ice to your hot skin, this caused you to squeak.

“G-gyu...”

He was right, you couldn’t ask him to stop, you won’t ask him to stop. Maybe if you were in the right state of mind you would, you both had to leave in an hour and neither one of you were close to being ready- but to hell with it, you thought as you grabbed Beomgyu by his shirt collar.

“No don’t stop,” You pleaded, eyes filled with desperation.

This was enough of a response for Beomgyu to pull you towards him and hurriedly pull down the zip of your newly bought dress.

You were late to the party- fashionably late, as Beomgyu described it.

But you had a good time. With Beomgyu by your side, you seemed to have bonded well with both of his parents.

His mother adored you, continuously passing lovely comments, few directed especially at the slick turtleneck dress you were wearing that night.

[being-addie]

Online aesthetics and the effects of social media trends

Let's talk about this.

How it can affect young teenagers

Open Tiktok or Instagram and everything on my For You Page now shows "How to achieve a Clean Girl Aesthetic"', "Old Money Aesthetic Hairstyles", "Cottagecore Hobbies", "How to be a Femme Fatale"

It never ends. Trends keep popping up left and right and it's inescapable.

As a young, impressionable teenager, I was, of course, naturally going to be influenced by these ever-changing trends. I'd constantly change my room aesthetic, buy new clothes, and I was never satisfied with my appearance. Why? Because I didn't look like the girls on screen.

News flash. You're never going to look like them. All that content they produce which gets 100k likes is done with excessive attention to detail, expensive lighting and sound equipment, and top-notch editing software. OF COURSE, you can't look like that. It's completely manufactured. It's heartbreaking to see young girls develop body image issues because of the constant bombarding of these "aesthetics" which are basically different beauty standards and stereotypes all wrapped up in a neat little package that is labelled "personality and style". I don't have anything against the concepts of aesthetics. I love how Dark and Light Academia is centred around learning, and how Cottagecore is all about relaxation and not conforming to being part of a 9-5 and just living life. I like how the Clean Girl is focused on being healthy and productive. What I don't like is how all these healthy things, which normal functioning humans should be doing are now turned into "trends" and you must "choose" between them.

Why it's so harmful

Fashion: Since aesthetics keep changing, you're going to find multiple that appeal to you. What happens when you discover you really like cottagecore, but your closet is filled with dark academia tweed? You turn to fast fashion. It's cheap and stylish. But it's horrible for the environment and that floral dress you're wearing was made by a woman in a sweatshop in Bangladesh, while fashion giants like Shein pocket the money.

Makeup: It's always there. Always. You cannot find a "how-to" post regarding aesthetics and makeup is not included. Its always how much blush to apply, why mascara is your best friend, blah blah blah. You know what I want to see? An aesthetic which promotes a clean, fresh face. I do wear makeup, not saying I'm perfect(yes, I wear lip tint and sometimes eyeliner), but it's the ridiculous notion that there's a specific makeup look for each aesthetic, and they say it's not very heavy, but really is concealer, foundation, blush, mascara and lipgloss light makeup?

Other: Then comes the things you should own, the bags, the shoes, the jewellery, the house decor. Did you notice to achieve the look, we're spending money bit by bit? Then you don't even realise it's made a dent in your savings.

Mentality: I hate this part about aesthetics so much. A while ago, I was really interested in Dark Academia and how it was centred around learning and studying. But everything was gloomy and dark and said I should be tired and bitter to achieve this. I'm not a serious person by nature in the first place, but here were blogs telling me to be "mysterious" and how I should be getting only 4 hours of sleep to be true Dark Academia? What is this dystopia? There's this weird obsession with how someone should behave if they like an aesthetic.

Online trends are all consumerism based. It's all to get you to blow your money on things that don't even benefit you.

There's a reason I never include and never will include tags like #clean girl or #pink pilates princess in my posts because it sort of reduces you to a certain aspect. Why confine yourself to these barriers? Wear what you want. Read what you like. The one "aesthetic" I believe in, is "that girl" which in reality is different for everyone, but boils down to being educated, well-mannered, and considerate. I will make a post on this. Being educated and kind is such a flex, not wearing one flowy white dress and "thinking" you're in a meadow. Break out of the pattern of being influenced by algorithms. Don't restrict your identity because of FOMO and the urge to be trendy. You've got this.

<3

[roselightfairy]

um if you’re still taking prompts then forehead kisses or kissing under the stars for gigolas please

anon, not only am I "still" taking prompts, you are my only prompt, and I love you for it! Why not both forehead kisses AND stars?

...

Night crept over their ship, a burning sunset and then a slow sweep of darkness over the sky. The waves beneath them, blue and gold-crested beneath the gleam of daylight, went grey and then dusky and then green-black, shifting and sliding like a cascade of tumbled jade. Like dragon scales.

The motion was not kind to Gimli’s bones, but he watched as long as he could, standing at the bow of the ship and gazing over the edge, fingers curled around the rail until he felt they must stiffen into claws and never loosen again. It was easier to look ahead, to where the last glow of the sun had finally faded over the line of the western horizon, than to look behind and see not even a trace of receding land in their wake.

This far out, the sea was quiet; waves rocked them gently, but did not break, with no shore to hurl themselves against. It felt, strangely, as though he had found himself displaced from the world.

And perhaps he had. Here, so far from everything he had ever known and equally far from everything yet to come, it was easy to believe in a space between one world and another.

Hands came to rest on his shoulders, light and slim but strong enough to cradle worlds, as Legolas alighted behind him like some oversized sea-bird. “Are you well, Gimli?”

“Well enough.” He leaned back, testing, and Legolas bore up beneath it with a strength that belied his frame – and a surety that rivaled the stone foundations of Gimli’s world. “I was merely – stargazing.”

For the stars were indeed something to behold. Brighter and closer than Gimli had ever seen them in the mountains or the plains of Middle-earth, here so far from any mortal lights, they gleamed above and around them as if ready to step out of the sky – to form a path for their ship to follow.

“Stargazing?” Legolas laughed lightly, and his hands swept from Gimli’s shoulders to his neck, fingers stroking at the frame of his beard in a way that made Gimli shiver. “We shall make an elf of you yet.”

His tone was playful – lighthearted in a way so far removed from his sorrow of recent years, from the heaviness of heart to which Gimli had almost accustomed himself. Legolas was different since they had embarked on this voyage – steadier, surer, than Gimli had seen him in years. As though the certainty of this voyage had become a buoy to his spirits, to his very being.

It was why Gimli had been willing to leave Middle-earth at all – why he had paid so little heed to the apprehension of his kinfolk and the questions about what such a voyage might entail. Because Legolas believed, with every part of him, that he would find something on the other end – and Gimli believed in Legolas.

And yet –

“Shall you?” he said, and the words came out with an edge he hadn’t meant.

Behind him, Legolas hesitated. Gimli could feel it, the slight tension in his hands and in his frame – and then he released Gimli, stepping around to stand beside him and meet Gimli’s gaze with his own.

“Do you fear it?” he said, and his soft words carried above the susurration of the waves.

“What is there to fear?” Gimli tried, and felt the words fall flat on his own tongue.

Legolas’s hands came to rest on the curl of Gimli’s fingers, warm against his knobbed knuckles. “Your hands are cold,” he said softly, and did not wait for an answer before prising them gently from the rail and piling them between his own. Gimli had not noticed the chill, but it swept through him now along with the warmth of Legolas’s touch. His husband’s eyes gleamed with reflected starlight, and Gimli could not look at him.

“I am not afraid,” he said, and he knew the words for a lie, although he did not know why. What was he concealing? What was the source of the untruth beneath his trepidation?

“I do not bring you across the sea to change you,” Legolas said. His gaze was steady still, and it put Gimli to shame. “I do not seek to make you into anything but what you are.”

“I know,” said Gimli, and he did. He did. What then was this worry, this heaviness that lodged in his throat? Why did he shiver, here on the open sea, between worlds, with nothing before or behind to which he could clutch?

“You have long been my anchor in a world where I did not belong,” said Legolas. “And it has been the greatest gift of my life – perhaps surpassed only by your willingness to accompany me on this journey now. I may not be worth the sacrifice, but it would be my greatest honor to be that for you now. If you will let me.”

His eyes were so wide, dark yet lit as if from within, so earnest that Gimli had to close his own. For somehow Legolas had seen him – had pierced to the heart of the fears he had not been able to voice even to himself.

Of course Legolas did not want to make him anything other than what he was. Gimli would never have doubted that; half a lifetime of love was enough to cure any fears before they could form. But they journeyed now to a world Gimli had never known – a world where he could not be sure he would be welcome. Legolas’s surety was enough to quell his fear of being allowed in – but perhaps there was a deeper worry there, one Gimli had not even begun to name: if he were to be welcomed, would it be as himself? Or would it be for the person the Lords of the West hoped he would become?

Dwarves were not meant to be changed. They were stubborn and solid as stone, birthed from and rooted to the deeps of Middle-earth, and they clung to their traditions and their selves in defiance of any change in the world. And yet Legolas had worked his way into Gimli’s heart, and in so doing changed him enough to forsake his homeland for this new world he had never believed in. What then might this journey yet do to him, that he could never have imagined?

Those were the fears – but Legolas had seen them, had countered them, before Gimli could even name them to himself. If Legolas had changed him, it was only to make him more himself: a truer, better version of Gimli. And now Legolas stood here beside him, warming his hands and gazing into his eyes and promising to anchor him not only to the world he had left behind, but to the self he feared abandoning as well.

“You are worth any sacrifice,” he said, and his voice was rough and choked with the love and relief of being so deeply known, so recognized and understood and held. “But – yes. Yes, I will let you.”

“Thank you,” Legolas whispered, and he leaned forward.

His lips were warm on Gimli’s forehead, a tender brush that swept through Gimli just like night across the sky, lit him up inside with the glow of a thousand stars. And when he pulled back, Gimli’s hands still clasped in his own, the smile on his face was brighter than the inevitable sunrise.

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝐈𝐈𝐈

[old money] James x fem!reader

《 Summary - It's the day of your date with James and it turns out better than you had hoped, Sirius and Margret confront James on who the secret mystery woman is and an unexpected surprise leaves James in worry of what it may cause. 》

Series List

The days dragged on, each hour an eternity, as you struggled to focus on anything but him. You knew it wasn't healthy, but with this fixation, you couldn't help yourself - you were caught in a whirlpool, and he was the eye of the storm.

And yet, for reasons you could not quite understand, you found yourself unable to reveal your true feelings to anyone, not even yourself. It was a conundrum of the heart, torn between desire and honour. You knew that letting this - whatever this was - would only lead to heartbreak and pain, but the game was too great to resist. James Potter may have been nice to you but that doesn’t have to mean he finds you that interesting; so you hid your emotions away, praying that hopefully this was nothing more than a crush and someday it would simply fade.

You step out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed. Your hair is damp, and you take a moment to wring it out before setting about styling it. You reach for your curling iron, curling and curling your strands until they are loose and wavy. Then, you apply your makeup, starting with your skin - foundation, concealer, blush and then a sweep of highlighter to give your face a glowy finish. You finish off your look with a splash of lipgloss and then your signature lipstick. You take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror, and you definitely look different, you can’t remember the last time you’ve looked so…put together. It almost feels like a dream or a distant thought when you push back some of the curls that sat on your shoulder.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. You glance at your watch - it's a little after 6:00 PM, and the sun is sinking low in the sky. You walk over to the door, your heart racing with anticipation and nerves. You take a deep breath, you look through the peephole and James is standing there, looking as handsome as ever. As the door creaks open, you catch sight of James, his striking face and well-tailored suit looking more attractive than ever. The beautiful arrangement of flowers in his hand makes you smile.

“Hey,” You say, your hands are fidgeting and you're curling your toes from the storm of awkwardness you’re feeling. “Hello.” He says smiling as he takes in your form, "You look absolutely stunning," and the warmth in his tone makes your cheeks flush with heat. 

You thank him and compliment his attire, feeling a flutter in your chest and when he offers you his hand; you take it eagerly, feeling a surge of excitement and anticipation as you step out of your apartment and join him. You feel your heart racing as you step out of the building, the cool air brushing against your face. 

He looks at you with a smile that reaches his eyes, and you feel your heart skip a beat. 

You settle into the passenger seat, feeling the soft leather underneath you. As he starts the engine, you take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. Tonight was going to be either special or a disaster - you can feel it in your bones.

As you sit in the car next to James, you feel a sense of both excitement and trepidation wash over you. You've spent the past week getting ready for this moment - practising your makeup, trying on different outfits, and preparing yourself mentally. Now that the moment has arrived, you find yourself wishing you could freeze time, just for a moment, so you could savour every detail of this experience. You take in the familiar scent of the leather seats and the soft glow of the streetlights outside blending in with the setting sky.

Once you've arrived, you stare dumbly at the restaurant that's even more extravagant and luxurious compared to anything you've ever experienced before. The entrance alone is enough to take your breath away - the gleaming gold doors, the elaborately carved marble pillars, the gleaming black-and-white marble floor. You feel a sense of anxiety and anticipation as you approach the entrance. This place seems so different from anything you've ever known, and you can't help but feel a little bit out of your depth, when James opens the doors for you and links your arms together as he walks you in.

The smile James sends as he pulls back your chair for you is absolutely irresistible, and you feel a warm rush wash over you. His expression radiates a genuine kindness that makes you feel safe and look up at him, trying to think of something to say that doesn't sound like babbling. You sit down in the chair, feeling James' warm and muscular shoulder brush up against yours. His smile is incredibly charismatic, a mixture of confidence, playfulness and a touch of arrogance. You can't help but feel your heart fluttering slightly as you meet his gaze, the butterflies in your stomach intensifying as he takes a seat in front of you.

James begins the conversation by asking about your day, but you can't help but notice that he's looking at you in a way that makes you feel both nervous and flattered all at once. He leans in a little closer, and you can feel his eyes tracing over every inch of your face as though it was a portrait he wished to memorise.

Or looking for flaws. A sickening voice whispers in your mind.

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/n." Your heart rate quickens, and you begin to feel a little lightheaded. Taking a look around, you can feel the nerves starting to set in. You’ve never been to a place like this before, and the prices on the menu are making you feel very out of your league. You can't help but feel insecure and unsure of yourself as they placed the menu in front of you.

The restaurant was grand, with tall ceilings and elegantly dressed waiters flitting about. The diners were equally well-dressed, many of them sporting expensive jewellery and clothes that could probably buy your entire street. You feel very out of your element as if you didn’t belong here. 

You don’t. The voice says once more.And this time you truly feel sick.

But James, gentle and understanding, read your mind. He seems to sense your discomfort, and he flashes you a warm smile. "Don't worry about the prices," he says, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I just want to treat you to a nice dinner." His words are reassuring, and your nerves start to calm down but you also can’t help but wonder if he’s doing this out of pity.

"I just want to treat you to a nice dinner." He said. Does this have something to do with you getting sick? Did he feel as though he was obliged to treat you out as an apology? Maybe guilt? Politeness? Were reading this completely wrong?

The thoughts hit you like a speeding train and it’s almost as if you can feel the acid in your stomach. Your mind is questioning every little thing, every little move and micro-expression, raising your stress and anxiety with each passing second.

You take a deep breath and start to tell him a little bit about yourself, about your childhood, your interests, your likes and dislikes. You find yourself drifting off on a tangent about your favourite book, and he looks at you with interest, encouraging you to keep going.

James leans back in his chair a little, his eyes meeting yours. There's a sparkle in his eye while you find yourself leaning forward slightly. It's almost like the two of you are in your own little world right now, and nothing else matters. 

When he places your orders his voice is confident and sure. The server nods and hurries away, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment before James speaks up again. You can't help but be impressed by James' confidence and assurance, both in the way he speaks and the way he carries himself. He seems to know exactly what he wants and is not afraid to ask for it; it's a quality that you're sure served him well in life and it only adds to the attraction you feel towards him. 

You're so caught up in the moment that you don't realise how much time has passed, and before you know it, the sun has set over the horizon. It's a moment of pure magic, and you feel like this is something truly special.

You look up from the table and see the waiter approaching with two plates of food - one for you and one for James. You watch as he sets the plates down, the food is absolutely delicious, and you let out a sigh of satisfaction. "This is incredible," you say, taking another bite. 

James chuckles, smiling at you as though you were the moon itself. “I’m glad you like it.” He says softly and you can’t help but feel something at his tone. It makes you falter for a moment, utensils frozen mid-bite. “T-thank you?” You try and the laugh he lets out is enough to break whatever just happened a few seconds ago.

James listens attentively, nodding and asking questions as you speak. It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, and you felt grateful for his company, for the comfort he provided, and for the opportunity to forget about the world for a moment. 

You stare in disbelief as the food keeps coming, each plate seemingly topping the previous one. The service is impeccable and the food is absolutely delicious. As you continue to chow down, you can't help but be a bit self-conscious - you don't want James to think you're a gorger.

"Do you remember your childhood, James?" You asked, putting down the fork and knife. "What was it like growing up for you?"

"It was... interesting," James replied with a smile on his face. "I spent a lot of time outdoors, playing with friends and exploring the woods around our house. My father taught me how to hunt and fish, and my mother taught me how to paint and play piano."

"That sounds lovely," You said and he nodded, his eyes lost to distant memories. "I also loved to go exploring, even though my parents warned me not to. It was dangerous, but the excitement was just too much to resist."

"We grew up quite differently," You state, the smile on your face as you utter these words is a complete opposite to the spiders crawling in your chest.

"But that's a good thing.” James said, lifting his glass of water for a sip. “We can learn from each other's experiences and grow as people. That's one of the things I love about life – there's always something new to explore and discover…and wonderful new people to meet." You can feel the heaviness of his last words, his eyes gaze at you with a smile adorning his face. You tilt your head to the side and run your hands down your face as you laugh.

The conversation continues, with the two of you sharing stories and finding common ground as you get to know each other. You both feel a little more connected and a little closer. "I’ve been on hikes before but it didn't end very well. We – my friends and I – we always do everything together and we decided to go on a hike." James states, a smile on his face.

“It was fun, I presume?” You ask and he laughs, nodding his head, “The word I would use if unforgettable. We forgot one of us and didn’t even remember him until 12 hours later!”

You laugh, imagining the scene. It's easy to imagine James, the life of the party, surrounded by friends who were probably just as lively as he was. "I bet it was quite the adventure," you say, still smiling. "What happened then?"

James doesn't miss a beat as he continues the story. "We had to retrace our steps, which took hours, but we finally found him. He was still asleep, and when we woke him up he looked so lost as to why we were all watching him so we just didn’t tell him what happened! It was pretty funny, actually.” 

He laughs again, and you find yourself starting to feel more at ease in his presence. There's something about him that's so easy to talk to, so natural to be around, whatever worries you had before have all turned to forgotten ash by now.

It's so silly and relatable, and it's nice to know that even the most charming and regal people can be just as clumsy and forgetful as the rest of us. It makes James feel more human, more like someone you could see yourself being with. You don't dare to hope for too far, but you can't help but dream.

Sirius stepped out of the elevator, his shoes tapping out a rhythmic beat on the polished marble floors of the office. With an excited stride, he made his way toward Margaret’s office, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise quiet halls. As he reached the door, he took a deep breath, mentally bracing himself for the conversation to come. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, simply swinging the door open and marching in with a dramatic flair.

“Margaret, you won’t believe it!” Sirius burst into the room, eyes wide and voice full of disbelief. “James is dating someone?!”

Margaret looked up from her desk, her face a portrait of shock and surprise. “What? Since when?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to process the bombshell.

Sirius flopped into one of the leather chairs opposite her, throwing himself dramatically as if wounded. “How could you not know? You spend like ten hours a day with Prongs, and you don’t know he’s got a secret girlfriend?”

Margaret’s face turned a shade of pink as she stared at Sirius, utterly perplexed. “Are you sure you’re not messing with me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Sirius leaned in closer, his expression serious despite the playful glint in his eye. “I’m dead serious. James. Is. Dating. Someone.”

Margaret’s eyes widened even further as she absorbed the news. “Are you absolutely sure?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Sirius nodded enthusiastically, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I heard it straight from the source—Mum’s the word. He’s been keeping it under wraps, but I got the scoop from my mum.”

Margaret’s initial shock began to fade, replaced by a look of admiration. “Wow. That’s... amazing. Good for him!” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Do you know who it is?”

Sirius shook his head, his grin widening. “No clue. But don’t worry, we’ll find out.”

Margaret’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I’m dying to know who it is now. Any guesses?”

Sirius chuckled, leaning back with a theatrical sigh. “With James, it could be anyone. An artist, a secret agent, or even... you-know-who.”

Margaret burst into laughter, the tension breaking as she relaxed. “Oh, please. If it were you-know-who, we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

Sirius joined in her laughter, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right. But seriously, James is so terrible at keeping secrets. He’ll spill the beans sooner or later. We just have to wait for him to crack.”

Margaret grinned, shaking her head in amusement. “Yeah, James is definitely not the best at keeping things under wraps. It’ll be fun to watch him squirm.”

Your heart races as you step outside into the cool night air. The moon casts a gentle glow over everything, and as you glance over at James, you notice the way his eyes sparkle in the moonlight. You want to say something, but the words get tangled up in your throat. The silence stretches between you, feeling like an eternity, until James finally breaks it.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he says, his voice soft and warm. “I hope you did too.”

You nod, feeling a smile spread across your face despite your lingering nervousness. “I had a great time,” you reply, your breath coming in slightly uneven puffs. The evening has left you exhilarated and a bit flustered. You want to say more, but the words escape you, leaving you standing there, hoping he feels the same way.

As you walk towards James’s car, you take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air. James opens the door for you, and you slip into the seat, feeling the warm leather envelop you. The engine hums to life, and you close your eyes, letting the vibrations soothe your tired muscles. “It’s a shame the night has to end,” James muses. “I’d love to relive it all over again.”

A blush warms your cheeks as his words sink in. “Same here,” you whisper, feeling your heart flutter. The stars above seem to shine brighter, and you wish you could freeze this moment forever.

You hesitate, your mind racing between the excitement of extending your time together and the fear of potential rejection. But as you look at James, his eyes full of warmth and his smile reassuring, you gather your courage. “Who says it has to end?” you suggest, trying to keep your voice steady. “There’s a public park a few streets away. How about a late-night walk?”

Your heart races as you wait for his response, your hand resting nervously on his arm. It feels like an eternity before James finally speaks, his voice calm and inviting. “Okay,” he says, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Let’s go.”

Relief washes over you as you settle back into the seat. The car makes a few turns, and soon you’re pulling up to a small, secluded park. It’s dark and still, and a touch of anxiety flutters in your chest as James parks the car and switches off the engine. “You’d better not stand me up,” he jokes as you both get out of the car, and you laugh in response.

The park is enchanting—the stars are scattered like diamonds, the air is warm and fragrant, and the stillness of the night sets a perfect mood.

You take James’s hand, feeling his warm grip, and he leads you down a path into the night. His hold on your arm is firm but gentle, and the warmth of his body next to yours sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. Despite the risk of what you’re doing, the excitement of being with James overshadows your nerves.

As you walk, James’s hand rests around your waist, pulling you closer. You let out a happy sigh, tilting your head back to gaze at the stars. The night seems endless, filled with potential, and a deep sense of joy envelops you as you stand there with James, surrounded by the night sky.

“Tell me something most people don’t know about you,” you say, wanting to draw closer and understand him better. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”

James ponders for a moment before speaking. “When I was a kid, I used to spend hours with maps. I loved learning about places, tracing rivers and mountain ranges with my fingers. I always wanted to see those places for myself, but life had other plans.”

You look at him with curiosity. “Why didn’t you get to see them?”

James gives a sad smile. “Work, mostly. There’s always a conference, a gala, reports to review. It’s a never-ending cycle.”

You nod sympathetically, trying to imagine the constant demand on his time. “That sounds tough,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. James returns the squeeze, his fingers warming yours. “It can be,” he admits, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But I try not to complain. I’m grateful for the opportunities.”

A silence falls between you as you both contemplate his words. “But sometimes,” James continues softly, “I wish I could just stop. Take a break from all the noise and demands. Go somewhere where nobody knows me and just... be.”

As you listen, a pang of envy and understanding strikes you. A life like James’s, where every need is met and yet every moment is filled with pressure, seems both enviable and overwhelming. You wonder what it’s like to be constantly in the spotlight, where you’re always defined by your roles and responsibilities.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you say thoughtfully. “It’s like you’re always juggling flaming swords or something. Not that you don’t handle it well, but even superheroes need a break.”

James chuckles, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. “Flaming swords, huh? I’ll have to add that to my résumé.”

You laugh, feeling the tension ease. “Definitely. ‘Expert at juggling flaming swords while looking fabulous.’”

James grins, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Well, in that case, you should put ‘master of witty comebacks’ on your résumé.”

You playfully nudge him. “I think I’ll leave that off. Don’t want to make anyone too jealous.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you shake your head. "I guess it's just... I just never thought I'd be doing something like this, you know?" You pause for a beat, searching for the right words. It’s James that speaks next, "Ever since we met, I just can't get you out of my head. I know it sounds silly, but..." You let the silence stretch out between you, unsure of what he is going to  say next. You chuckle softly, a smile spreading across your face. "It doesn't sound silly at all," You say warmly. "In fact, I think…I think I've been feeling the same way."

James lets out a small laugh, feeling a surge of relief rush through him. "I guess we both felt the same way," you say, looking up at James. "I'm just glad you finally said something about it cause I would have been too embarrassed to say anything."

A small laugh shakes out of James as he leans down, his face inches away from yours. "And I'm glad I did," he says, his breath ruffling your hair.

With that, he leans in, his lips pressing softly against yours. The kiss is slow and sweet, and you feel like you're floating on a cloud of happiness. You can't quite believe that this is really happening, that James is really kissing you - and yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. As the kiss comes to an end, you look directly into James' eyes, feeling like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. "Thank you," you say softly, the words barely above a whisper.

James just smiles, a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you, too," he says, his voice dripping with affection.

James stands in the empty kitchen, holding a piece of bread mid-bite. He’s just about to savor his sandwich when Margaret and Sirius burst through the door, their faces lit up with mischievous grins.

“So,” Margaret begins, her tone teasing, “who’s the mystery girl, James?”

James freezes, his hand still in mid-air, sandwich poised to take a bite. He looks at Margaret and Sirius with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard. He appears to be weighing the pros and cons of revealing his new relationship to his best friends.

Sirius steps forward with a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat’s. “James, we’re not here to judge. We just want to make sure you’re happy. And if she makes you happy, then she makes us happy too. So, who is she?”

James swallows his bite, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he glances between Margaret and Sirius. “How did you even find out about this?” he asks, a mix of excitement and nervousness lacing his voice.

Margaret chuckles, leaning against the counter with an air of casual superiority. “Let’s just say we have our sources,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. James raises an eyebrow, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and suspicion.

Sirius sighs dramatically, pressing his palms together as if in prayer. “Mom told us,” he reveals with a theatrical flair. “She’s one of us, after all.” He nods towards Margaret, who rolls her eyes but can’t suppress a proud smirk.

Sirius takes a few more steps toward James, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Come on, spill the beans. Who is she? We’re practically family.”

James takes a deep breath, a laugh escaping his lips. “Alright, alright. Her name is Y/n, and she works here in the kitchens.”

Margaret’s eyes light up with excitement, and she steps closer to James, practically vibrating with curiosity. “We need to know all the details. How did you meet her?”

Before James can answer, the phone starts to ring loudly, cutting through the conversation. James looks momentarily flustered, glancing between Margaret and Sirius before heading out of the kitchen to answer it. His face grows serious as he speaks into the phone, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper.

Sirius and Margaret exchange a concerned look, their eyes fixed on James as he speaks intently into the device. They can’t make out the words, but the seriousness of the conversation is palpable.

James’s expression turns darker, his lips curving into a frown. He glances over his shoulder, his gaze briefly meeting theirs before he hangs up the phone. He steps back into the kitchen, his face lined with worry.

“I have to go,” James says, his voice tinged with anxiety. “Something’s come up. I’m sorry.”

Margaret’s face pales slightly, her concern deepening. “Is everything alright?”

James looks at her with frustration and sadness etched into his features. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know when I know more.” With that, he exits the kitchen, the door closing softly behind him.

As the door clicks shut, Sirius’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Margaret, ever the curious one, quickly rushes to his side. They both glance down at the screen, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Sirius hits the speakerphone button, and Remus’s voice crackles through. “Have you heard? Have you seen the news?”

Remus’s tone is strained and urgent, and Sirius’s brow furrows as he listens intently. “What’s going on, Remus?” Sirius asks, his voice thick with worry.

Remus takes a deep breath before delivering the news. “It’s Delilah,” he says, his voice low and intense. “She’s back.”

Margaret’s eyes widen in shock, and she looks at Sirius, whose expression has grown grim. “Delilah? As in the evil wicked witch of the west Delilah?”

Sirius lips tug and he grins at Margaret. “Yeah, the one and only. This isn’t good.”

Margaret takes a deep breath, her face pale. “What does this mean?”

Sirius glances at Margaret, his expression serious. “It means things are about to get complicated. We need to figure out what’s going on and what we’re going to do next.”

Margaret’s gaze shifts back to Sirius, and she nods, determination settling on her face. “Alright. Let’s figure this out. But first,” she adds with a wry smile, “can we finish the sandwich before all hell breaks loose?”

Sirius chuckles, the tension in the room easing slightly. “You know, I think that’s a brilliant idea. Can’t let a good sandwich go to waste, after all.”

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Tagging: @sssstarstruck @cloudroomblog @ietss @kquil @arctvrvs @loving-and-dreaming @enamoredofbella @astonishment @empath-bunny @white-wolf-buckaroo @semi-tuned @mellinnaaa

[worlds-oldest-teenager]

I’m interested. How do Apollo and Artemis’s desire to protect each other drive a wedge between them?

I'm glad you askeddd. Thank you for being my first anon ever btw. (@crowmakeska-boom idk if you are the anon but anon, whoever you are, sorry for the wait). This is probably not a very good meta cause it's mostly vibes, gut feelings and filling in the blanks with below the bare minimum of textual evidence but oh well. 

First I'd like to talk about why I think Artemis and Apollo's relationship is kind of distant. They're a confusing duo. When you first meet them in the titan's curse it may seem they don't like each other much or atleast Artemis seems to not be paticularly fond of her brother. Calling him “irresponsible”, “lazy”, “big headed”. But reading between the lines reveals how much the two of them care for each other, especially on Apollo's part from all the illegal help he was dishing out to the questers.

But then when you read some more, their relationship just feels a tad too distant to completely take what they say as just banter. When we see them on Delos in Blood of Olympus the distance is literal. They're recycling banter that's getting old and you can tell that even if it had been lighthearted before, it’s definitely getting on both their nerves now (stolen from fsinger lmao). They’ve both been playing the part for a long time but it feels like they don’t have the closeness anymore to recognize they’re both just playing parts. 

So what happened?

I think it's their need to protect each other that's causing this rift between them. From my point of view Artemis & Apollo are protecting each other from different things but Olympus is at the core of it for the both of them.

The twins have a very different experience of Olympus. Since her introduction Artemis seems pretty critical of Olympus. According to the hunters she's the only one who can get the ball rolling during solstice meetings and she's shown to not really act the Olympian way. Taking the sky off the shoulders of a mortal girl. Shrinking herself down to make the human heroes feel more comfortable and demanding they get rewarded.

It wouldn't be far fetched to assume that she's never fit in with Olympus and doesn't agree with most of the views of her family.

Then there's Apollo.

Who fits in so perfectly with the messed up inner workings of Olympus or so people think. He's perfected his mask over the years and no one is the wiser about the abuse he's gone through or even the fact that this isn't actually who he is.

To me, Artemis wants to protect Apollo from Olympus' true nature. In her head she's got every part of Olympus figured out and for the most part she has. Even if it's not something that works for her I think she would want to protect her younger brother from knowing what the kind of people he surrounds himself with are truly like.

I feel like Artemis would be conflicted on it for other reasons too because if Apollo is aware of the kind of people the Olympians are and he's alright with that, what kind of god is Apollo?

So she'd much rather think of him as stupid and irresponsible cause those atleast mean that it isn't he isn't a bad person. But I feel deep down she doesn't really believe completely that what she knows of her brother is correct.

But then she sees the way Zeus loves Apollo and cares for him and in her mind it's the right decision to let him live this way. He is safer now than they ever were as children.

Apollo on the other hand wants to conceal their father's true nature from Artemis. We know that he cares deeply about appearing fine on the surface because of how others would worry and who would worry more than his older sister.

Artemis and Apollo may be the protectors of youth but the first ever youth they protected were each other. It's the foundation of their relationship and caries on into the present day. Both of them feel a desperate need to protect each other.

I would go so far as to say that this is THE relationship they have with each other. The both of them never find comfort in each other, only protection. You can tell that comfort is not something they usually derive from each other from the way they're both completely blindsided by simple things like an "I love you" , a hug and just concern in general.

Comfort from each other is not a priority for them no matter how much they crave it. The twins purpose to each other is to protect.

So of course Apollo would never tell Artemis about the way Zeus hurts him.

I also think there's a little bit of denial on Artemis' part on just how abusive Zeus is. Cause Apollo is dropping hints. Even the way Artemis talks during Blood of Olympus makes it clear that she understands Zeus is gonna massacre the guy. She just doesn't want to believe it will be permanent.

And it's got a lot to do with the fact that she wants to protect him. Because if she acknowledges this isn't a situation Apollo is gonna come out from unscathed that means that she's incapable of protecting him. That means that she's failed to protect him before and cannot protect him again.

So she'd much rather pretend that Zeus is persuadable and not that bad. That it's Apollo's fault Zeus comes down so hard on him and if he were a little better and a bit more like her he could be safe.

And this would hurt Apollo because Artemis can pinpoint exactly what Zeus is like. But instead of comforting him she confirms for him that this is his fault. That if he could be better none of this would happen. Artemis helps prevent but never helps heal because helping her brother heal means he was in a position to be hurt in the first place.

All this mess and miscommunication and disbelief stemming from the fact that they love each other and never want to see each other hurt creates an impossible distance between them.

But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Slowly but surely they're trying to comfort/ seek comfort instead of just protect each other.

I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. “Whoa, there.” She patted my back awkwardly. “Okay, little fella. You’re all right now. You made it.”

Apollo's trials sucked. But I'm glad it's given the twins the opportunity to bridge the gap between their relationship again.

[sydsaint]

I might be kind of obsessed with him lately.

Summary: The reader and her tag partner Tiffany Straton have a difference of opinion when it comes to newbie Lexis King.

"I still can't believe that Fallon made you much out those nasty horse stalls." You snicker at Tiffany as the two of you make your way across the parking lot. "I swear I can still smell it on you." You crinkle your nose jokingly. 

"Ew! YN, don't even joke like that!" Tiffany whines. "I showered like five times after I was done!" She insists. "Fallon is seriously crazy. She said that she actually enjoyed doing manual labor." She whispers the words like they're a slur. 

Your nose crinkles for real this time and you sneer. "Ew, as if!" 

"Right?" Tiffany agrees. "Girls like us are to pretty to work." She flips her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder. 

"You know it." You giggle and twirl your hair between your fingers with a grin. 

You and Tiffany head inside the building and waste no time going to your shared locker room. The two of you are passing through the main backstage area when Lexis King appears in front of you. 

"Ladies." Lexis grins at you both, an air of self-entitlement about him. 

"Lexis." Tiffany turns her nose up at King. 

You roll your eyes playfully at Tiffany's immediate dismissal of King. "Hey, Lexis." You offer him a flirty smile. 

King immediately turns his attention to you since Tiffany obviously isn't going to give him the time of day. "YN! Where are you ladies headed off to?" He asks you. 

"Back to the locker rooms to get ready for the show." You answer him, twirling a strand of hair in your hand. "Tiff and I have a tag match against those losers Lola Vice and Elektra Lopez." You explain. 

"Well you definitely look ready to me." Lexis chuckles, showing no shame in raking his eyes over your body. 

You roll your eyes at the cheap line he's throwing at you. "Smooth, Romeo." You laugh. 

"Ugh! Come on, YN!" Tiffany scoffs and grabs ahold of your hand to drag you off. "You just seriously bombed buddy." She informs Lexis matter-of-factly. "So we'll be going." 

"See you later, YN." Lexis nods and steps back to let you and Tiffany pass. "Be seeing you around babe." He winks as Tiffany drags you off. 

Tiffany lets her death grip on your arm free only when you are safely in the locker room. She lets your arm go and you rub the red spot from where she was dragging you by. 

"That was kind of harsh, don't you think, Tiff?" You ask Tiffany, watching as she makes a b-line for her vanity against the wall. 

"Umm, no." Tiffany replies dryly. "That guy is a loser, YN. Come on." She insists. 

You roll your eyes playfully and walk over to the other vanity so you can fix your hair and makeup for the show. "I like him." You admit and pick up your hairbrush. "He's cute! And his hair? I love a man that takes care of his hair." 

"Ew, YN." Tiffany sneers. "You can do so much better, girl." She assures you. "I thought you had a thing for Carmelo? Or was it Trick?" She asks you. 

"It was Carmelo." You answer her. "But Trick is super hot too. He just started dating Lash though. And I'm pretty sure Melo has a new girl now." You explain. 

Tiffany grabs her curler off the vanity and shrugs. "So? If they just started dating then what's the harm. They can't be that serious yet." She grins. 

"Tiffany!" You laugh. "Say what you want, girl. But I don't go after dudes in relationships. Not my style." You remind her. 

"Suit yourself, girl." Tiffany shrugs. "You know, Bron and Cora broke up last month." She flashes a teasing smile at you. "And I know you think Bron is super hunky." 

You pick up your makeup bag and open it up to retrieve your foundation and concealer. "And you don't?" You ask Tiffany. "And you I don't have taste." You joke. "Besides. Bron has never shown any interest in me. I guess all those muscles can't make up for poor taste and no brains huh?"

Tiffany snickers and agrees with you. The two of you finish getting your hair and makeup ready for the show then switch to changing into your ring gear. You tie up your boots while Tiffany admires her reflection in the mirror. 

"I think I want a set of green gear next." You comment casually. 

"Green?" Tiffany sneers. "Ew." 

You roll your eyes and walk over to the door. "I like green." You remind her. "Come on. Let's head down to the ring and get this match over with already." 

Tiffany stops admiring herself in the mirror and the two of you head out and down to the ring. You do your Buff Barbie's entrance, aka the name of your tag team with Tiffany. And then hop in the ring with her to wait for your opponents. 

Lola and Elektra come out and the match gets underway. You and Tiffany work together and you pull Lola up for a pin at the end of the match. The bell rings and you celebrate with Tiffany before the two of you head up the ramp and backstage again. 

"Whew! That was easy." You gloat on your way up the ramp. "Did you see the look on Lola's face when I rolled her up? Priceless!" You laugh. 

"I know!" Tiffany laughs with you. "Her and Elektra are such losers." She snickers. 

You and Tiffany step through the curtain into the backstage are and you spot Lexis hanging around on the other side of the room. Tiffany audibly groans at your side when you eye King up. 

"YN, don't even." Tiffany complains. 

"I'll meet you back at the locker room, Tiff." You pat her arm with a grin before you walk off. "Lexis! You stalking me now?" You tease King as you walk over to him. 

Lexis chuckles at your little quip and stops leaning against the wall. "Stalking you, princess? Please. I know better." He insists. "I've got a match against that new Chase University twink in a few minutes." 

"Riley Osborne?" You reply. "Thea's new obsession?" You snicker. "He's a loser just like her and the rest of Chase U. Should be an easy win for you." 

"Oh it'll be a breeze, princess. Trust me." Lexis nods. "You should hang out and watch the match. I guarantee it'll be entertaining. For you  anyway." He offers. 

You turn and look back at Tiffany, but she's already gone back to the locker room. So you turn back to Lexis with a grin and nod. "Alright. Let's see what you've got, King." 

Lexis grins and heads out to the ring for his match. You hang around backstage and watch his match as promised. Lexis parades around and shows off his entire match with poor Riley. He pulls a win against Osborne then heads backstage again to greet you. 

"Well? What did you think?" Lexis saunters over to you once he's through the curtain. 

"You were alright I guess." You shrug with a cheeky grin. 

Lexis laughs, perfectly aware that you're teasing him. "Nah, you were impressed." He insists. "I can tell by the way you're looking at me." 

"Oh?" You reply. "Alright, you might of impressed me a little. Just a little though." You insist.

"How about we meet up after the show? I'd love to buy you a drink." Lexis offers. 

You bounce on your heels and think about how much Tiffany is going to complain if she finds out you're about to get drinks with this guy. "As long as you're paying." You finally answer him after a minute. "I'll meet up with you in the parking lot after the show." 

"I'm looking forward to it, princess." Lexis nods and walks off. 

You watch Lexis walk off before you also head back to the locker room. You know that Tiffany is going to be on you about Lexis when you get back. So you brace yourself for that. But it'll all be worth it when you're out getting free drinks with your new beau. 

[little-annie]

Not that anyone knows, but Steve secretly has a green thumb (or so he believes) and in recent years, he seems to have developed an affinity towards growing his own produce. It was never something he felt comfortable doing while living under his parents’ roof, though he still tried. When she was home, his mother appreciated the fresh greens, but his father always had something cutting to say when he was around, like the snide remarks about masculinity that seemed to be on an ever-running reel, no matter the topic.

But now that he has his own home and plenty of space to grow whatever his little heart desires, well, how could he not?

Crouched down with his light washed Levis pulling tight over his thighs, Steve thumbs through the seed packets, picking out a small handful to start later in the evening. Strawberries, watermelon, carrots, beets, tomatoes and something called a cucamelon, whatever that is.

It's when he's deep in thought, still crouched down and thumbing through Pinterest on his phone trying to figure out what plants grow best together, that a deep voice dances through the air above him. Sudden and unexpected, but warm and soothing to the ear. It almost makes Steve shiver.

"Need help finding anything, Sir?"

Nearly dropping his phone and the seed packets he has pinched between his fingers, Steve turns toward the faceless voice and dumbly huffs out a quiet, breathless, "Oh.”

Immediately, he's met with black denim, tight on the slender thighs they cling to, and a tattoo high on the man's leg peeking out of a rip in the worn fabric. A flower of sorts, he notes with a small smile. Stomach swarming with butterflies from the gravelly voice alone, Steve stands from his crouched position, letting out a hardly concealed grunt of struggle to answer the rather striking young man before him. "N-no I think I'm good."

As Steve reaches his full height he can't help but be taken aback by this guy's beauty. Eyes and hair the colour of the earth covering the soil-stained gloves in the man's grasp, and a smile that blooms just as bright as the flowers around them.

Handsome doesn't even begin to describe him.

After a moment of pause and probably some obvious ogling, Steve continues with a dry throat and racing heart. “Just uh–” he coughs into his fist attempting to dispel any lingering nerves. “Just picking out some seeds to start."

The young man, Eddie, his name tag reads from where it sits next to a pride pin and what appears to be a pin of D&D dice, looks at the seed packets in Steve's hand and smiles around his words. "You a gardener?"

"Um…" God, words are difficult with those big brown eyes looking back at him. “Trying to be, I guess.” Steve settles on, flashing the packets of seeds in Eddie's direction.

"Want some advice?"

Steve hums a question in response, eyes still hopelessly analysing the man before him.

Plucking the strawberry and tomato seed packets from Steve's grasp, Eddie grins, slapping the packets against his own open palm. "It's a little too late in season to start these bad boys, you'll wanna pick out some more mature plants instead."

And who is Steve to believe any different? He simply smiles, nearly choking on his own tongue as his eyes stay focused on Eddie's hands, tattooed down to the knuckles, wrapped in shadowed flowers and vines, gilded in an array of silver rings. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie grins back, plush lips turned up at the corner and cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink as he turns heel to head in the direction of where Steve assumes they'll find already started strawberries and tomatoes. "Follow me, Big Boy."

And oh, how that nickname feels like an ice cold lemonade on a hot summer's day, swirling with body and brilliance, spreading like the roots of a newly established tree under his skin and staking some sort of permanence in Steve's cracked foundation.

Trying to hide his ever-growing blush by sipping his coffee, Steve quietly follows behind. And if his eyes drift south to stare at Eddie's ass, then so be it. He’s allowed to look, even if there's not much to look at concealed behind the dark worn denim.

Continue reading here⤵️

[anthurak]

So I’ve been thinking about the whole theory of ‘Poly-STR’ that a lot of the fandom seems to have started latching onto recently, particularly with the revelation/confirmation that Summer and Raven were a LOT closer than anyone (aside from Rosebird shippers) thought.

And the funny thing is, I don’t think anyone really appreciates the fact that the theory of Summer, Taiyang and Raven having been in a polycule is actually built on an incredibly shaky foundation.

See, let’s consider for a moment where the theory of Poly-STR comes from; that this ship wasn’t created all on its own, but is simply the latest interpretation of a Summer-Tai-Raven dynamic that we’ve known about since Volume 2 when Yang explained her family backstory to Blake. That Raven was Tai’s first love and the two of them had Yang together, only for Raven to vanish without a trace. And sometime afterward, Tai got together with Summer and they had Ruby together. And sometime after that, Summer left on a mission and never came home.

Now if you’ve been with the fandom since Volume 2, you should know that there have been a number of different interpretations and developments of the dynamic between these three over the years; That Summer is Tai’s second love who stepped in after his first love Raven ran away. That there was some kind of outright love-triangle with Summer and Raven rivaling over Taiyang. And most recently, that Summer, Tai and Raven were in a polycule.

But here’s the wrinkle that I don’t think anyone is really appreciating:

This whole idea of a Summer-Tai-Raven dynamic that the fandom has been drawing all these ideas/ships from is based almost entirely off of YANG’s story that she told to Blake back in Volume 2.

And it is becoming very clear, especially after this latest episode, that Yang’s knowledge of her parents and family is in fact EXTREMELY flawed/limited. Even as early in the show as Yang’s very conversation with Blake in V2, we’ve known that Yang seemingly didn’t even know that Raven was her birth mother until AFTER Summer vanished. Then in Volume 3 we and Yang learn that Qrow has actually been in on-and-off contact with Raven for all these years and even has a pretty good idea where she is. Then when we learn about her bird transformation and portaling semblance, it becomes clear that, far from being ‘gone without a trace, never to return’, Raven has been around quite a bit and keeping an eye on Yang, and likely Ruby as well. And it’s pretty easy to guess that Qrow and Tai almost certainly KNEW about this, and DIDN’T tell Yang or Ruby.

Then in Volume 7, we and Ruby learn from Qrow that neither he, nor Tai, nor even Ozpin has any real idea what Summer’s final mission was even about. As Qrow puts it, this wasn’t an ‘Oz secret’, but a Summer secret.

Now at the end of Volume 9, we get a glimpse at just how little Ruby and Yang REALLY know. It turns out that Summer deliberately lied to nearly ALL of her friends and family about the true nature of her mysterious mission. And it turns out that Summer and Raven were FAR CLOSER than Yang or Ruby ever had any inkling of. With Summer apparently trusting Raven above all others with helping her on this secret mission, with Raven herself acting much friendlier with Summer than she has with ANYONE else we’ve seen.

Basically, I think all that we’ve seen calls pretty much EVERYTHING Yang told Blake about her family past during Volume 2 into question. You know, that very same conversation that the fandom has based much of, if not almost their entire perception of the Summer-Tai-Raven dynamic on?

Remember that RWBY has at this point a long and consistent history of both unreliable narrators and mentors/leaders/parents concealing VERY important information from their kids/our heroines. So should it really be so surprising there is a LOT that Ruby and Yang are wrong about concerning their parents and family?

It’s why I find it so interesting to see how some people seem so convinced about something like Poly-STR being a thing.

Like when I hear people say things like ‘Tai and Raven were definitely a couple’ or ‘Summer was definitely Tai’s second love’ or ‘Tai is definitely Ruby’s father’, I can’t help but wonder; ‘Are you sure? Are you really sure?’

Simply put, I don’t think much of the fandom really appreciates just how IN THE DARK we really are concerning the details of Team STRQ and what was REALLY going on before Ruby and Yang were old enough to fully remember.

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 10

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: This chapter contains mugging, memory loss, traumatic brain injury. This fic as a whole contains sex, language, violence, mental illness.

Word Count: 3164

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Author’s Note: I’m back! Obviously, it took me sooo long to figure out how to write this next chapter, but I finally got it together. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime & hope you enjoy reading it. The plan is to post more regularly soon (Chapter 11 is almost done).

“Makeup is an art,” Chantelle and Tina had explained to you the night before. “Think of your face as a canvas.”

Despite all their well-intentioned beauty coaching, the cold, hard truth was you still had no idea what the hell you were doing - you couldn’t even keep the differences between moisturizer, foundation and concealer straight in your brain. And after twenty minutes of attempting to “paint” your face like the natural-born Rembrandt they were convinced you were, you’d stared back at your reflection in the mirror and decided you looked like a clown…and not in a sexy-Arthur-Fleck kinda way.  

Exasperated, you’d washed everything off, opting instead for a tiny bit of mascara, lip gloss and powder.

But then there was the issue of your hair. You’d burned your fingers on Tina’s flat iron before managing to get things somewhat under control. But as soon as you stepped out onto the street the rain began to fall, causing your already-unruly mane to frizz up completely by the time you reached the subway.

Chantelle’s handpicked outfit, however, remained the only unblemished element of tonight's ensemble: her tight-fitting angora sweater did things for your non-existent cleavage you’d never imagined possible. You’d be sure to thank her profusely later…even though she thought you were going out with someone else tonight.

You’d never cared how you looked in front of a guy before…but Arthur Fleck wasn’t just a guy. To say he’d gotten under your skin was, perhaps, the understatement of your life: you were becoming crazy about the man.

You didn't know how you were going to survive this date. You could barely hold it together in Arthur’s presence without wanting to reach out and smother him with affection, and the kiss between you earlier today had only solidified your deepest desires. You wanted Arthur in so many ways…ways you didn’t even understand yet. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever rode the Giant Dipper at Amusement Mile: the sensation of your stomach flying up into your throat as you went over that first terrifying drop…a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. Was this what being in love felt like?

***

The bouncer at Pogo’s frowned as you handed him your ID.

“Are you…um…are you alright, miss?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

You were thrown off by the question. “Of course. Why?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you looked in a mirror recently?”

You shook your head. The jerk was actually making fun of how bad your hair and makeup had turned out. People in this city really didn’t know how to act.

“Wow, you’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes at him, snatching back your ID. “Can I please go inside now? My friend’s about to go on.”

You pushed past the rude bouncer and entered the club, scanning the room feverishly for an empty seat. Spotting one parallel to the center of the stage, your eyes lit up and you rushed over to claim it. As you sat down, a strange chill ran up your spine as you slowly began to realize: everyone was staring at you. Faces of concern and mockery swam around you, and you weren’t sure why.

Oh shit, you thought. Do I have something on my face?

Unfortunately, you hadn’t brought a compact mirror (Tina and Chantelle had given you a five minute lecture on the importance of always carrying on in your purse), so you couldn’t check. And you couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom because then you’d lose your seat. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, then glanced at your watch and saw the glass was cracked.

Weird. You hadn’t remembered smashing it against anything on the way over.

Your concerns about your appearance, however, were quickly dissolved as the current act wrapped and the emcee took the mic.

“This next comic describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident who from a young age was told that ‘his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold, dark world.’ Umm. Okay? Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!”

You applauded along with the rest of the half-faded crowd as relief washed over you. Thank God you hadn’t missed him. As Arthur took the stage, your heart began to throb again. There were simply simply no words to describe how incredible he looked tonight. His red vest. The crisp, white button-down shirt underneath it. The matching slacks.

And his hair. His hair.

You were certain his hair was going to be the death of you. How was it possible that you and that gorgeous hair inhabited the same planet without the entire world imploding?

Arthur squinted out at the crowd before speaking. You knew he was searching for you, needing to see you in the audience, needing to know you were there for him. And you were. When the two of you locked eyes, he smiled. You smiled back at him and everything else fell away. It was you and Arthur again. And nothing else in this cold, dark world mattered.

You didn’t care that Arthur had a laughing episode at the beginning of his act. You didn’t care that basically all his jokes fell flat, either. You didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was how proud you were of him. So proud, you felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

When he finished his set, you leapt to your feet, clapping and screaming. Arthur blushed from the stage, embarrassed…and pleased. Everyone was staring at you, then back at Arthur, then back at you in dazed confusion. Two weirdo peas in a pod…and proud.

“We’re gonna take a short break,” the emcee announced.

A moment later, you and Arthur found each other at the back of the club.

“You were amazing, Arthur!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around him.

“I'm so glad you came tonight…” he hummed into your ear. Of course, your depraved mind twisted the meaning of those two words in your head, and you found yourself having to stifle a blushing smile. You felt your body quaver with excitement at being next to him once again.

“Wait a minute…” Arthur pulled back to look at you, shock and concern flooding his face.

“Y/N, what…what happened to you?”

You blinked. “What? Nothing happened to me.”

“You’re…you’re hurt.” Arthur looked you up and down, then lifted your hands to eye-level. Bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers and fingertips lined the insides of your wrists. You frowned at the sight, utterly confused.

“Y/N, who…who did this to you?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “I mean…I have a slight headache, but, y’know,  it’s probably just the rain.”  

“Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. Can you remember?”

It took a minute for your brain to register Arthur’s question, which you realized was a little strange.

“Well,” you inhaled, trying hard to formulate your thoughts. “I got on the subway…I know that. And I took it all the way to…well, whatever this stop was near here, you know? And then I got off the train and went up the stairs…and then…” you looked up into Arthur’s beautiful eyes. “And then I was here. Watching you perform for the very first time. And I’m so proud of you, Arthur!” you squealed as if you’d seen him for the first time tonight all over again.

“You don’t remember anything else? You must have hit your head.”

“I'm fine!”

“Y/N,” Arthur’s worried eyes blinked at you. “I don’t think you are. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”

“But it’s our big date!” you wailed. “I got all dressed up and everything!”

At that moment, a few Wall Street bro types brushed past and snickered at Arthur.

“Nice set, freak. In case you didn’t get the memo: you’re supposed to tell the jokes and the audience is supposed to laugh…not the other way around.”

"He has a laughing condition, you assholes!" you snarled at them without hesitation.

To everyone’s surprise, the bros paused, thrown off by the fact you’d called them out.

“Sorry…” Arthur interjected, glancing at the dudes apologetically. “She’s…she’s not feeling well.”

Arthur shot you a desperate please-shut-your-mouth-before-you-get-us-both-killed look, but you could see there was a tiny, triumphant smile curling up his lips underneath it. Still, the words were flying out of your mouth and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” you continued loudly, glowering at them. “Maybe if assholes would shut their fat faces and stop acting ignorant, I’d feel better.”

“Okay, you’re coming with me now!” Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and scooted you towards the door. You looked over your shoulder to see them staring after you, dumbfounded. The sight of it made you laugh.

“Y/N,” Arthur pulled you into him as soon as you were outside. “I’m taking you to Gotham Hospital. We’ve gotta get you checked out.”

“No, Arthur!” you protested. You didn’t exactly know why you were so opposed to the idea, but your first instinct was to protest.

“Y/N, please. Please? Just do it for me. Just so I know you’re okay.”

“I’m worried about you,” he emphasized.

“I’m fine!”

“Okay.”

You’d switched it up so quickly, Arthur blinked in disbelief. He cleared his throat, nodding.

“Uh…okay. Good. Let’s go.”

**

“This is not where I expected to end up tonight,” you lamented. Arthur sat next to you, a clipboard given to him by the nurse at the front desk in his lap. He was trying to fill out your paperwork for you.

“Um. Your last name is…L/N right?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him. “How’d you know?”

Arthur blushed. “I…might have looked at your timecard. I was…curious about you. This was before…you know…we became...closer.”

“That’s so sweet! I looked at your timecard, too!”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “What’s your date of birth?”

He patiently wrote in all the answers and brought the completed forms back up to the desk.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” you observed, looking around at the handful of other patients. “It is a Friday night, after all.”

“It’s only ten o’clock,” Arthur reasoned. “My guess is things get crazier out there in a couple hours or so.”

“I feel like things are flying out of my mouth tonight without any filter,” you blurted. “And I’m not even that angry.”

“I feel like they are, too,” Arthur agreed. “But, that’s okay. I’m glad you agreed to come here. I’m…I’m still worried about you.”  

You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Arthur looked a little startled, but he nodded.

“How do you get your hair to look so good all the time?”

Arthur’s eyebrows arched and he laughed.

“I'm serious!”

“No…I'm sorry,” he demurred, looking down at the tile floor. “It's just that nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“Nobody ever said your hair looks incredible?” you asked. “Like it's the most gorgeous hair in the world? Nobody ever approached you to do shampoo commercials?”

“Maybe that's my true calling,” he joked.

“What shampoo do you use?”

"That's a personal question," Arthur teased as the door to the back of the ER swung open.

“L/N? F/N L/N?” the nurse called out.

You leapt to your feet. “Oh! That’s me.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” Arthur asked.

“Are you kidding?” You extended your hand and pulled him up. “Of course I want you to come. You’re my emotional support clown.”

**

After weighing you, taking your blood pressure, asking if you had any allergies to any medications and all the other boring details that entailed a medical visit, the nurse set you up in an examination room and read through your paperwork, pursing her lips as she centered in on the handwritten scrawl (Arthur’s handwriting of course) that explained why you’d come to the ER in the first place.

“It says here you…think you hit your head?”

“He thinks I hit my head,” you clarified, jerking said head towards Arthur. “I’m still not sure. There’s a big gap in my memory from tonight and I don’t know why.”

“There are bruises on her arms,” Arthur added. “She came to meet me and she looked…disheveled. Like someone had…”

He paused. The nurse looked you up and down.

“You don’t remember what happened to cause the bruises?”

You shrugged. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”

“You’re not…that clumsy,” Arthur murmured under his breath. “I mean,” he looked up at the nurse. “She’s a dancer. She’s…one of the most graceful people I’ve ever seen.”

“Arthur, that is so sweet!” you exclaimed.

The nurse shot you both a skeptical look, then smiled. “Your husband obviously cares for you a great deal.”

“Oh,” Arthur blushed. “I’m…not her-”

“Yes, he’s a wonderful husband!” you interjected, flashing him a slightly maniacal smile. “So protective of me. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

“It sounds like you might have taken a fall,” the nurse continued, jotting down a few notes on your chart. “But the bruises on your wrists do look like they were caused by someone else’s hands.”

“My watch is broken, too,” you blurted.

“I’m wondering if maybe you were mugged. It happens to women in Gotham all the time, unfortunately.”

“But I still have all my money,” you pointed out, opening up your purse to show off your untouched wallet.

“Maybe you fought them off,” Arthur suggested. It wasn’t a completely outlandish notion. You were known to bring out the feistiness if the wrong people pushed your buttons.

“In any case, we’ll run some tests to check for concussion and other injuries.”

The nurse opened a drawer and handed you a light blue paper robe. “You can put this on. I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll check you over.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“Of course. He should be by in just a minute.”

“What a nice lady,” you said to Arthur after she left you alone. “Don’t always meet people like that around here.”

“Very nice,” Arthur agreed. He cleared his throat. “Um…do you want me to leave, or…turn around while you get changed?”

You blinked, the reality of everything that had happened tonight finally hitting you.

“I just can’t believe this is how tonight turned out.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked softly.

“I had a whole outfit planned, Arthur! And my hair and makeup. I wanted to impress you and look beautiful for you tonight.”

“Y/N…” Arthur stood up to face you. “You are beautiful. No matter what. All I care about is that you’re okay.”

You sighed, moved by his sweet words, but you still felt utterly crestfallen and defeated. “I ruined our first date. And your big stand-up debut. I wanted tonight to be perfect so bad…”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Arthur interrupted. “I…” he paused. “Of course I wish none of this had happened to you. This city is…awful. In so many ways.” He paused, taking your hand into his. “But…I just love being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”

You wanted to kiss him again, but suddenly the door flew open and a man in a white coat suddenly stood before you both.

“I hear somebody got banged up tonight.”

“My guess is you got mugged. Maybe the muggers chickened out before they could actually…you know…mug you. It does look like you’ve got a concussion.”

**

Dr. White’s bedside manner was on the complete other end of the spectrum of your nice nurse’s from a few minutes before, but you’d come to expect that from men with MDs. After performing the perfunctory tests of shining a light in your eyes, examining your body for additional trauma or bruising (none was found) and asking you a few routine questions, he announced his evaluation:

“What can you do for that?”Arthur asked, concerned.

The doctor snorted at what he obviously deemed a dumb question. “Not much. Just wait it out. Don’t go to sleep for a while.”

“What happens if I fall asleep?” you asked.

“You could die.”

“Oh.”

“Your brain’ll heal itself,” the doctor continued. “Might take a little time. Just try to take it easy and don’t be in places where this could happen to you again.”

“You mean the entire city?” you asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. You knew what he meant, but the slight insinuation that getting mugged was somehow your fault didn’t sit great with you.

“What can I say?” Dr. White shook his head and shrugged. “Welcome to Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here all my life,” you informed him dryly. “Gotham’s a jungle.”

“Then welcome to the jungle.”

**

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked in the lobby of the hospital. It was past midnight. “There’s a diner down the street people seem to like.” He paused. “That is…if it’s not too late for you.”

The way you saw it, you’d stay up all night with Arthur if he’d have you.

“Let’s go to the diner. I could really go for a cheeseburger."

Arthur laughed. “Okay.”

The rain had stopped and the air outside felt crisp and freshly-washed. For a brief moment, it made you forget that the garbage strike in Gotham had just entered its seventh week.

You and Arthur moved through the crowded sidewalk together, stumbling through the endless obstacles of people and garbage. A startling headline caught your eye as you walked past a newsstand, and you stopped in your tracks to read it:  

KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS, PAGE TWO.

Beneath was a drawing of a vampiric clown.

“Can you believe that?” you asked.

Arthur paused alongside you, his eyes wide as he soaked in the headline.

“I watched this on the news last night."

Arthur nodded, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “They worked at Wayne Enterprises. All three of them.”

You rolled your eyes. “That figures.”

Arthur cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

You continued, lowering your voice. “Between you and me, I actually knew one of them. Back when I was still at college. He was a complete asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.” You sighed. “And if I had to guess, those ‘friends’ of his were cut from the exact same cloth. But it looks like he finally picked the wrong person to fuck with. And I can’t say I’m shedding any tears.”

Arthur nodded slowly, taking in your words.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself. “You must think I’m crazy for talking like this.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Three less pricks in Gotham City,” you quipped. “Only a million more to go!”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed. You took it as a good sign: despite the traumatic brain injury and the chaotic night you’d shared, his smile still made you go weak at the knees.

🤍🩷 Thanks for reading. Visit my Masterlist for all my Fleck writing, including future chapters of Heartthrob.

[lemonavocado]

i have something to say!!! about the differences between victor and elizabeth in the way they experience/express emotion, and what that means for the themes of gender in the novel

i briefly begun (began??) to talk about this in the tags of this post by the magnificent @frankingsteinery (i wanted to add this on to the original post but this ended up being kinda long) and i would like to clarify and expand upon what was said because i theorized a bunch of stuff unsubstantiated like an idiot 😭 raving under the cut

for context here are the tags that inspired my thoughts:

i left my little analysis in the tags because i was really just spitballing on the spot and when i do that i'm usually wrong 😭 but i'd actually find it fun to substantiate some of what i said w evidence from the text

to expand on my ramblings and robin's own additions in their reblog (with brilliant quotes that i did not even consider to search for because i am quite stupid). when i try to explain exactly how elizabeth and victor have differed in their approach to an early parentification role (elizabeth moreso in being groomed to emulate her mother in role and spirit, forced to remain domestic, unworldly, and unable to even entertain self-actualization, since the moment caroline dies she is the eldest female figure in the immediate family and must assume that role of maturity) (victor moreso in the fact that he literally. made a guy when he was like 20), i find this quote from alphonse quite telling:

"...but is it not a duty to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting their unhappiness by an appearance or immoderate grief? Excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for society."

victor immediately dismisses this advice as being:

"...totally inapplicable to my case; I should have been the first to hide my grief and console my friends, if remorse had not mingeled its bitterness, and terror its alarm, with my other sensations."

he acklowledges what is expected of him from society at large and actively claims himself incapable of it. he is not the reliable figure his family so desperately hoped could be upheld before they came to realize that he is really, irrevocably capricious and mentally unstable.

on the subject of the other quotes added, i think that in them we can see this shift in the family's perception of victor: they begin by expecting him to assume his prescribed role as the family's eldest man (besides alphonse cause he's old and useless) and caregiver, to be a stable and unshakeable foundation on which the family can always rely, but as victor remains on the trauma conga line and spirals into worsening mental health, the happiness of the family is reliant on victor's rapidly fluctuating states of health.

"Come, my dearest Victor; you alone can console Elizabeth..." (side note that after this quote he immediately starts taking about caroline, a bit of a freudian slip on alphonse's part in that he conflates caroline's very existence with a comforting and reliable disposition, and elizabeth is explicitly asked to 'take over' for caroline when she dies)

at the time alphonse writes this, henry (<3) has been purposefully concealing the extent of the "nervous fever" victor has suffered; alphonse is not aware of the trauma his son has undergone and how it has changed him, and so he automatically assumes that victor, upon returning home, now older and more educated, will embrace these expectations.

"'We all... depend on you, and if you are miserable, what must be our feelings?'"

at this point of the novel, however, elizabeth knows how mentally unstable victor is, and is begging him to come back happier than he left. everyone in the family at this point is so conscious and aware of victor's poor health, and thus his explosive and outwardly demonstrative emotions affect the family very deeply. in short their dependency on him shifts from perceiving him as a source of stability to perceiving him as a source of instability.

back to my original comparison!! jesus this is all over the place thank god i'm not an academic.

to reference alphonse's first quote that i referred to. it seems to me that elizabeth, unlike vic, takes alphonse's advice in stride. contrast victor's response to alphonse's quote with this description of elizabeth:

"She indeed veiled her grief, and strove to act the comforter to us all. She looked steadily on life, and assumed it's duities with courage and zeal."

indeed, she demonstrates this; victor often describes her as handling her grief in silence (literal silence, but ykwim):

"...a thousand conflicting emotions rendered her mute, and she bade me a tearful, silent farewell."

"...I turned to contemplate the deep and voiceless grief of my Elizabeth."

in fact, the only time she comes close to being as expressive as victor is when she blames herself for the death of william, and in part her extreme reaction stems from the fact that she percives herself as having failed the duty that her mother bestowed upon her - it is unmotherly to allow such a thing to occur under her watchful, feminine eye.

even in childhood they had a very stark difference in temperament, elizabeth's more traditionally and overtly masculine:

"Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated disposition, but, with all my ardor, I was capable of a more intense application..."

and, especially for a female character, she defies the will of her father several times:

"At first I attempted to prevent her, but she persisted, and entering the room where it lay..."

"Soon after we heard that the poor victim had expressed a desire to see my cousin. My father wished her not to go..."

all this considered, i don't think it's much of a stretch to say that while it should be vic's role, elizabeth is the "man of the house" (a sexist idea in its own right, but im communicating this in terms i think mary shelley might have intended).

tldr i just think this is such a fascinating exploration of family dynamics in frankenstein, and a brilliant portrayal of two opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to people dealing with the undue parental and familial responsibilities they are made to uphold in youth. the lack of academic attention these themes have attracted is absolutely bonkers to me. anyway elizabeth the girlboss and victor the malewife <3

[chibikyo]

Day 13 - Size Difference

Onaga x F!Reader

Onaga has decided that his newest prisoner would make the for the perfect Queen, whether she likes it or not. (MK deception Onaga, not MK1 Onaga because the first is just is really big and the second is the size of a fucking mountain)

Warnings: !! Please read !! - non-consensual sex, Size Difference including cum inflation and belly bulge, self-lubricating cock, non-human genitalia, Aphrodisiac laced slick, drugged sex, breeding kink, mentions of cock warming, hurt/no comfort, this is not fluffy like my last few entries it is very non-con you have been warned

************************************************************

There was a roar throughout the chambers and Y/n shuddered with a sudden, all-encompassing dread that permeated her being. Footsteps followed, heavy and echoing, growing steadily closer until the only thing louder was the beating of her own heart. She knew what was coming for her even before the doors to the dungeon slammed open to reveal her captor, but as his monstrous form was revealed to her, she felt that tight knot of fear in her gut turn leaden. The chains around her wrists had little give, but she struggled to free herself even knowing her efforts were in vain.

Each footstep thundered louder, shook the very foundations beneath her feet, as He grew closer; Onaga, the dragon king of Outworld. Her posture stiffened, shoulders taut, spine straight as he approached, stopping only when he was within a few feet of her. He was tall, well over eight feet and proportionately wide, his broad chest stretching across her field of view. Y/n exhaled softly, doing her best to conceal the fear she felt as she glanced up at him, neck straining to meet his gaze.

Onaga inhaled deep, smelling the terror and anger tainting her pheromones. He leaned down, chasing that intoxicating scent where it clung to her skin. Y/n jerked back but her back hit the stonewall of the dungeon as Onaga’s face drew close, tongue flickering out and licking a stripe up her neck, tasting her fear. His hand drew close, a massive claw stroking her arm gently and Y/n shuddered again.

“I didn’t expect the spoils of this war to taste as sweet as you.” Onaga chuckled. “This nerve you are showing is commendable, albeit nothing more than a falsehood. I can smell the fear within you, young one.” His other hand stretched forward, claws extended as they pressed against her throat. He dragged them down slowly, the press not enough to break skin but Y/n trembled beneath them. When his claws caught fabric the massive emperor grinned, a slow, sinister upturn of lips as he raked his claws down, the cloth tearing like paper.

Y/n gasped, feeling the cold air against her bare skin as the scraps of her top fell to the floor around her. He repeated this action again, his claws leaving the shallowest of scratches along her tender flesh as he slowly stripped her in this way. The chains cut into her wrists as she strained against them, but it was no use, she wasn’t strong enough to break free of the restraints.

“Such a rare combo of strength and beauty.” Onaga growled, his wings curling around to shield her from the cold as his claws curled around her ribs, thumbs stroking the inner swell of her breasts. She snarled, fought harder against her bonds, before spitting in his face. He merely laughed, the action doing nothing to deter his wandering claws. “That’s the fire I crave. That determination you’ve not quite yet buried beneath your terror. I will enjoy taming you, my queen.” “I’m not your anything, Onaga.” Y/n spat, but her voice was quickly smothered by the emperor’s lips pressing against her own. He devoured her scream as he thrust his tongue inside her, pinching her chin between his thumb and two massive fingers to prevent her biting down. His tongue was long, thick, pressing against the back of her throat and she gagged as it slipped further. He fucked her throat with his tongue, imagining that tight, convulsing channel wrapped around his cock as she struggled to pull away.

She took in a ragged breath when he finally pulled back, her eyes were wet with unshed tears that Onaga moved up to taste. One of his massive fingers found her clit, pressed firmly against it as her lower lips spread around the digit. He flicked it a few times, rolled his fingertip against it in a steady rhythm, enraptured by the squelch as a slick slowly coated her entrance, sticking to him the more it gathered. He could see her face grow flushed, humiliated at the growing arousal within her. 

“No! Not there! Stop… sto.. Ooh?” She squealed as he carefully slipped his finger into her hole, feeling her walls cling to it as she stretched around it. His hands only consisted of a thumb and two fingers, each nearly as thick as three of her own. She whimpered as he pushed his finger in deeper, his claw scraping gently along her spongy insides as he coaxed her channel to take his finger full inside. She was quivering with need, her thighs clenched tight around his wrist but he barely felt the pressure against the thick hide on his arms. He pumped the finger into her, shallow, careful strokes mixed with the occasional swirl to stretch her wider. 

His cock twitched eagerly in his sheath, the tip slowly emerging where it lay hidden beneath the loin cloth hanging from his belt. She clenched around his finger with each thrust, no longer struggling to free herself from the bindings that held her at his mercy. She had ceased begging for him to stop as he fucked her open on his finger. The only sounds she seemed able to make were breathy, gasping moans and whimpers; sweet noises that would drive anyone insane with lust and they only served to fuel Onaga’s desire to conquer his prize body and soul. 

Y/n could barely register anything beyond the sound of blood rushing through her ears or the feeling of something thick and hard violating her aching core. Each slide of that unyielding intrusion set her nerves on fire and stoked the flame of arousal slowly and steadily building inside her. She couldn’t see, her vision blurred by tears, but when she felt Onaga’s finger slip out of her with an obscene pop she let out a needy whine, her orgasm ebbing when she’d been seconds away from spilling over. 

She heard the chains being ripped from the wall, felt Onaga’s strong hands gripping her hips, turning her around until her arms were braced against the rough stone. She was slowly becoming more aware as she felt him spread her legs, forcing them apart as something slick and big and impossibly hard pressed against her cunt. It rubbed against her crease a few times, each slide against her swollen clit sending fiery waves of pleasure through her body. The tapered tip caught at her entrance and slipped inside before meeting resistance. Suddenly, Y/n was all too aware of what was about to happen.

“Wait! Please, stop, it’s too big!” She shrieked. She pushed away from the wall, her hands shooting down to try and grab at Onaga’s cock, clenching to prevent further penetration, but Onaga merely tightened his hold on her hips, tugging her back sharply as he speared her open on his massive shaft. She screamed, pain shooting down her legs, through her guts, the stretch too much, too soon. 

Onaga grabbed one of her arms, then the other, pulled them to her sides and pinned them against her hips beneath his massive palms. He was so tall that her legs no longer touched the ground as he stood up straight and gravity did her dirty by pulling her further down on his cock. She was light-headed from the stretch, dizzy from the combo of pain and pleasure that rippled through her as Onaga waited patiently for her to stop fighting. She eventually sagged forward, defeated, and with a roar of triumph Onaga hooked his arms under her legs, twisted her around to face him. His eyes shown with victor as Y/n clung to his arms, her fingers struggling to find purchase against his massive biceps.

He didn’t need to thrust, merely used his immense strength to move her up and down along his shaft. His cock naturally produced slick, the only miracle in this whole ordeal as it created a smooth slide for himself within her. Y/n felt the pain slowly fading as he worked them up to a steady pace. Each time he dropped her onto his shaft it sank in a little deeper, filled her a little more completely, until she could glance down and see the tip of his cock poking against her stomach, creating an obscene bulge beneath the fat and muscle. 

Soon enough it started to feel good, her body adjusting to the thick cock rearranging her guts and her climax slowly building back up. Every drag of that cock inside her set her nerves a blaze with tingling pleasure. Her insides were burning up, skin flush with fever, head swimming in a sea of pure bliss. She wondered, briefly, if his slick had an aphrodisiac within it. Surely something so big should hurt; should not feel this delicious as it ravaged her body? Her mind was fuzzy, tongue thick as she moaned and gurgled unintelligibly. This seemed to amuse the emperor cradling her.

“So warm and tight.” He moaned. “I knew you would be the perfect sheath for my cock. Going to fuck you so full of my seed. You will be my queen and this cock will be your throne.” He started thrusting faster, pressed her back against the wall to support her as he leaned in and ravaged her lips. He felt her walls tighten, knowing she was as close as he was to spilling over. “Does it feel good, my queen? Do you like being stuffed full of your emperor’s cock?” “So full.” Y/n whined. “Please, harder, fill me up. Need it… need you.” She wasn’t sure what she was mumbling, only aware that she wanted more, wanted all of him. She needed him to spill his seed in her. “Please, wanna cum, so close, need you to fill me up so I can cum.” “I know you do. Once my slick absorbs inside you the only thing that will let you cum is by taking my seed.” Onaga roared. “You’ll be a slave to it, craving the sort of pleasure only I’ll bring you. I’ll keep you seated on my cock everyday, let you have as many orgasms as you please. I’ll breed you full everyday, watch you swell with my heir growing inside you. You’ll be my perfect little queen. Now cum!” He thrust in deep, the tip of his cock splitting open her cervix to pump his seed straight into her womb and Y/n screamed from the sudden pain before feeling her orgasm crash down around her, overwriting the pain with a torrent of pleasure that seemed to never end.

It rolled over her, again and again, her vision going white as each hot spurt of Onaga’s cum triggered another orgasm. They each blended together, her body spasming violently as he filled her so full, cum squirting out around his thick shaft, her stomach swollen and heavy with it. He let one hand trail down to rub affectionately against that swell, knowing he had nothing to keep it plugged inside her this time; such a waste.

As his cock slowly retracted back into his sheath, sliding inch by inch out of her aching cunt, the cum in her guts leaked out with it, spilling against the stone floor beneath her in thick globs. Y/n was shivering, shaking, each and every muscle burned. She clenched her hole around nothing, whining at the ache of being empty as Onaga adjusted her into a bridal carry. He cradled her against his chest with a soft trill and hiss in an effort to comfort her.

“Don’t worry, my queen. I will fill you again soon and I'll make sure this time we keep you nice and full. I won’t let anything escape.” Onaga crooned, his heavy footsteps filling echoing around them as he carried her out of the dungeon toward his own, personal chambers. Y/n’s brain was still fuzzy. She had a vague sense of wrongness, like she should be scared of him fucking her again, but it had felt so good. Had she really wanted to escape? She was his consort, his queen. The thought settled in her head, felt so right, even though the rational part of her mind screamed otherwise. She felt that part of her quiet as he hummed, his chest vibrating against her body, holding her tighter to his chest. Oh, she’d been struggling again, hadn’t she? “Patience, my queen. We’re nearly there.”