#those women stronger than god

[garwicbreb]

I hope the wives and partners of famous older male celebrities have the most blessed and wonderful day every single day for the rest of time

[mobtism]

i hate ōkubo atsushi as much as the next person because of his fanservicey fetishism but i love the way he makes batshit crazy women characters.

[babey-fruit-bat]

Mar Rosso - Red Sea

Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla discovered the curse of Terra Mater

🍇🏺🩸🍇🏺🩸🍇🏺🩸🍇🏺🩸🍇🏺🩸🍇🏺

Author note: There is no way in hell anyone explained the menses to these guys- (who would?) they find out the hard way

Set before plot of the movie- author finally saw it- author does NOT wanna talk about it :( Not my blorbos !! (They were terrible people)

Not a poly relationship - No Y/N used - reader is F and has a period but has no description

Geta 👑🏛️🍇

You arose with a stretch next to your husband, today was the first day of the spring gladiator tournaments. You rolled over into Geta’s arms waking him from sleep “Good morning, Dulcissima“ he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips

As you leave the bed and the sunlight enters the room you hear a yelp leave Geta “My love! You’re bleeding?”

You turned looking down to see a small pool of blood on the bed that had leaked through your shift. You groaned turning away to sit back on the bed, face in your hands. You’d only been married a few months and so far had managed to keep your season undetectable

“Are.. are you-you’re not hurt? What’s happened to you?” He pleads you to look at him with worry. You lift your head with tears in your eyes “I’m sorry, I- this.. this is normal- it’s supposed to happen,”

He looks in bewilderment, like you have a second head- “This ailment? Is normal..?”

“Yes..? It is a step in bringing forth a child, no child.. well- this” you gesture to the bed and between your legs

“Wait.. the blood is coming from?” His gaze drifts down to your shift. Your eyes meet and you nod, both holding your breath

“Oh… OH- oh Gods!” His eyes widened piecing the puzzle together “You must rest! Sit!” He rose from the bed donning his red and gold robe and summoned the servants to draw a hot bath for you- he stopped one of the ladies before they finished and mentioned your incident this morning. He was assured your clothing, and sheets were no worry and he ensured every medicinal herb available was added to ease your bleeding

He stood proudly before you feeling accomplished of the care he could give you, though he noticed you still wincing

“What is it now? Is this not helping stop the bleeding?”

“Stop the bleeding? Haha, my love it doesn’t work this way, it will stop on its own!” You laughed softly at his confusion

“About how long will that be? Surely not forever..” he shuddered thinking about if he had to endure that curse, how could he function? Run an empire? Bleeding? He’d sooner kill over and hand the nation to his brother

“Uhh? About a week-“ “WEEK?” He screeched

“Surely you aren’t serious!?” You nodded, no lie in your eyes

“You absolutely cannot go out today- you must stay here, rest, recover- I could never ask you to go out in this condition? Around all those people? That must be exhausting..” he trailed off eyes lowering to the floor

“Why not? All women do this, go out, continue living”

“All of them?” “Every one” you said and lifted yourself from the bath. You dried off and threw on a slip garment and sat by your vanity as the servants began to fix your hair

Geta appeared behind you, hair a mess, and a doting look in his eye- “You are stronger than you appear, Carissma”

You turned rising to cup his face in your hands

“Don’t you forget it” you whispered pulling him in with a longing kiss

It wasn’t long before you were dressed in your most comfortable stola, Geta chose a darker shade to avoid any noticeable bleeding or accidents and he held your hand guiding you carefully to your seats to watch the games, making sure you sat and the fluffiest cushion in the palace.

Though choosing a simpler style you still felt divine, still adorned in gold pieces and fine silks gifted to you by Geta, each chosen by him for your taste.

He truly cared for you and watched over you in all ways- respecting you now more now than ever. His empress, his wife, his love

Caracalla 🐒✨🏺

Opening your eyes the soft moonlight strewn about the room and you paused hearing two pairs of footsteps patter into the room. You retired to bed early from the banquet tonight, a celebration of Rome’s latest conquest and victory.

The pain in your abdomen had started in the morning and had gotten worse as the day continued. You hadn’t brought attention to it, not wanting to disturb Caracalla’s peace. He loved the games almost as much as you, and you felt well enough to press on, but by the end of the night the pain was nearly unbearable

“Shhh Dondas!! No!” He whisper yelled watching him leap onto the bed, right onto your sore abdomen

“Urgh..” you groaned as Dondas moved off you as quickly as he lept on- startled by your noise of pain

“Sorry Carissma, I thought you were asleep- but now that I’ve found you, come join the party! You’ll miss all the entertainment-we’ve got singers, musicians, and the fights! We have real fights, we’ll have swords too!” He said gleefully, like a child on Saturnalia

“I’m not sure Calla, I haven’t felt well all day-“

“Not well? What do you mean? Should I call a healer?”

“No! Well.. maybe? I don’t know..”

“Well, decide quickly and let’s go! I’ll get whatever you need don’t worry, Carissma!”

He was too loud to speak over sometimes, his enthusiasm overtaking his reason. You rose from bed stretching and rising before Carracalla cried out

“Guards! Servants! Anyone! The empress is BLEE-“ you ran wide-eyed and threw your hand around his mouth “CALLA! Not so loud!”

You shushed him and he furrowed his brows “Certainly not! You’re bleeding what if something’s happened what if I loose you!?”

You laughed softly “You’re not loosing me I promise, I’m okay- just.. hurting”

“Well I can see that, clearly! But how? How do I fix it? Fix you?”

“You don’t need to fix me Calla, this is normal, a part of life”

“What.. what do you mean?”

What DID he mean?

“Calla, this.. this must happen, it’s a natural bleeding, needed to produce an heir one day?”

He looked at you with confusion “So the bleeding is not from a wound? So where is it coming fro-..?” He trailled off gazing down to your legs

“Ooooohhh.. OH MY GODS? From..? There? You’re.. you can’t be..?”

Dondas curled into your lap softly pulling at your clothes to get closer to you, Caracalla sat beside you pulling you both on his lap

“Calla, the blood-“ “I don’t care about the blood, my poor poor empress”

He held you calling for servants to clear the bloodied cloth and start a hot bath, you told the servants which herbs to add and Caracalla listened silently for next time, something he also discovered- to his absolute horror- was this wasn’t a one time event

You left the baths and entered your room to find every candy, pastry, cheese, fruit, meat, and wine scattered around the room as if the banquet had moved upstairs

“Take what you like Dulcissima, Dondas and I will share the rest!” He said with a mouth full of food. You rest beside him on the bed and he popped grapes into your and Dondas’ mouths, each of you taking a side by your beloved emperor

“Aren’t you worried you’ll miss the party?”

“No, I could have another tomorrow if I wanted, I’d rather be here with you even if we just do nothing” he said gazing down to your eyes and kissing your forehead

Author note: One thing I’ll stand on is they were both idiots, and eat the rich (I’d want their heads on a platter if I was a peasant in yee old Rome)

Somehow CARACALLA made white boy of the month™️ ?? Beating GENERAL MARCUS, LUCIUS, AND GETA ?? Caracalla gang rise !!

Author question: LMAO Can someone break that down psychologically in the comments for me? Is it because I’m the oldest daughter and my maternal instincts revved their disgusting engine to save yet another pitiful man with wet puppy eyes? Probably. Someone tell me I need answers !!

[pitchsidestories]

birds of a feather II Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

masterlist I word count: 1647

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for the oneshot was this request here, we hope that we did the great idea justice.

warnings: contains coach abuse through a parental figure

“Come on move over, Viv!”, Jonas yelled before pushing Vivianne stronger than it would have been necessary.

Watching this scene unfold from the bench brought back memories which were engraved into your brain. But none of your teammates noticed your skin turn pale or the slight wobble of your underlip.

The harshness in your coaches’ voices and the physical aggressivity reminded you of your days in the youth team your stepfather had coached. Back in the day all you did was helplessly staying silent, eager to please, whatever he wanted from you to become what you wanted to be a professional footballer.

Unlike your child self the Dutch midfielder’s reaction wasn’t silence.

“What are you doing? You just said I should get ready!”, she shot back, visibly frustrated by his behaviour.

“You were too slow!”, the Swedish man replied angrily.

“You should have told me in time then! God!”, Vivianne shouted

Listening to their fight made you shrink a little bit more, every word they exchanged felt like a whiplash to you. Their sentences opened cuts you thought have long healed, but they turned out to be still open and you had a hard time to stay focused on the game in front of your eyes.

Flashes of the past returned to the forefront of your mind; you tried your best to ignore those, knowing fully well they would haunt you in your dreams tonight.

“Come on, guys, stop that nonsense.”, much to your relief the co-coach separated the two fighting parties.

“Can you believe that?!”, the forward asked you, sounding exasperated.

“Viv are you okay?!”, you whispered.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”, she assured you.

“Okay, good.”, you nodded. Although nothing was good. Not really, but you weren’t sure you could confide into her. You were still new to the team, and you didn’t want to bother her with things which laid in the past but had a way to resurface in the present.

After the game which resulted in a draw you were the last to be in the shower. Under the harsh waterjet you tried to scrub off what happened today, the skin turned already red, because of your strong rubbing against it.

“Hey, are you coming? You don’t want to miss the bus.”, Kim cleared her throat impatiently to get your attention.

“Yes, everyone is waiting for you.”, Leah added, standing right next to your team’s captain, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I’m coming.”, you promised.

“Do you need help with anything?”, Lia asked concerned.

“No, I’m good, we can go.”, you waved her off while getting dressed, the clothes clinging to your skin and your hair was still wet when you left the changing room with your teammates.

You were quiet on your way back. You did not want to be that quiet. Everyone around you was talking and joking. But you just sat there, your thoughts spinning.

You barely even managed to say good bye to your teammates before going home.

Standing in front of the door of the small apartment, you could already hear your stepfathers voice.

He was yelling again.

For a moment you considered just leaving but then you thought better of it.

Carefully, you opened the door.

“Hi, I’m home.“, you announced yourself quietly.

Your stepdad immediately turned to you: “You played like shit today.“

You flinched as he stomped towards you: “But I…“

His hands wrapped around your upper arm. The sport bag dropped from your shoulder as he pushed you around in anger: “Whatever your coach said, he’s wrong! Remember who got you to where you are now?! Who coached you first and saw your potential!“

His face was so close to yours that you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

You could not get yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’m tired… I just want to go to bed.“, you said calmly, to not risk upsetting him even more.

He continued, pushing you backwards repeatedly until your back hit the wall with full force: “You better remember that! And you better work your ass off at the next game. I refuse to let you embarrass me again!“

There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to shout how glad you were that he would never coach you again and how sorry you felt for the other kids. You wanted to scream that you owed him nothing, that you were the one who had built this career for yourself.

But you felt too drained to fight, so you just nodded and disappeared into your room without another word.

At training the next day, your stepfathers words reverberated in your head and you found yourself subconsciously pushing your body to its limit at every exercises.

This did not go unnoticed by your teammates.

“Woah, hey. Slow down, little one.“, Beth stopped you. She was smiling but there her eyebrows were knotted together in worry.

Steph appeared on your side as you caught your breath: “Yes, you don’t want to hurt yourself in training.“

“I won’t.“, you said plainly, hoping they would back off and would let you continue.

“Y/n…“, Beth started, the smile suddenly gone.

“Yes?“

“Relax a bit. This is almost as obsessive as Leah is with her training.“, she chuckled but you knew she was serious.

The blonde defender grimaced at her: “Excuse me?!“

Her voice went soft as she added: “But yes, something is off… Y/n, if you want to talk about it, you should know that we’re here for you.“

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes so you just shook your head.

“And if not to us, there’s also a psychologist here.“, Lia continued empathetically.

“It’s fine. Really. Just need to be better at the next game.”, you tried.to wave their worries off.

“You played like ten minutes. Not many players can make a difference in ten minutes.”, Katie argued.

“Yes, but it’s not good enough!”, you shouted, pushing the arm of the Irish woman which stretched out for a hug away.  

“Alright, calm down. Katie rolled her eyes annoyed at you, before turning her head to your other teammates who stood there equally clueless about your sudden emotional outbreak, sounds like she really does need to see our psychologist.”

You were close to shout at her, telling the older woman that she had no idea what was going on inside your brain, how unloving and dangerous your home felt. That family wasn’t always as perfect as the club painted it to be. But you decided to be quiet and continued to do your training.

It was after the next match day at home when Kim noticed that your stepdad was pushing you around.

” Girls, look.”, the captain nodded worried into your direction.

“We can’t just-“, Katie begun, already rolling up her sleeves, ready to fight against the taller man.

“Katie. He’s gone.”, Caitlin interrupted her girlfriend.

“Y/n?”, Kim was the first who was at your side, the rest of the team swiftly followed her.

“Kim? Katie?”, you blinked at them in surprise.

“Are you good? Is he bothering you.”, the Irish player wanted to know from you with deep concern in her voice.

“He’s my stepdad, he always acts like that.”, you looked down, ashamed that your home wasn’t as beautiful and wholesome as theirs.

“You know, I don’t think I like him an awful lot.”, Beth admitted.

“The next time he pushes you, I’ll push him back. Such an asshole!”, Katie cursed.

“No one’s pushing anyone here!”, Kim demanded in full captain mode. All she cared about was your well-being. The rest could be solved at a later stage.

“Right, and we need to get y/n out of this unhealthy situation at first.”, Lia added earnestly while brushing softly through your open hair with one hand to calm down her and your nerves.

“You really are the personification of Switzerland, Wally.”, Katie teased her, attempting to lighten up the depressive atmosphere.

“Someone has to find a reasonable solution.”, Lia defended herself.

“Maybe she could sleep at one of our places tonight until we have a plan?”, Kim suggested.

“Sounds good.”, Leah agreed seriously.

“She can stay with me and Viv.”, Beth announced, giving you a warm smile.

“Yes, she can stay as long as she wants. Plus, Myles will be so excited to see her again.”, the Dutch footballer grinned at the memory of their little puppy who loved you a lot.

“Thanks, girls.”, you mumbled gratefully.

Gently, Beth put her arm around your shoulders: “That’s what we’re here for.“

“Yes but all your families are so cute and then there’s mine… so I thought I never belonged.“, you admitted, not sure if you were making any sense.

Alessia shrugged, her gaze fixed on you: “Not everyone has a perfect family.“

“And family is not always blood-related.“, Beth added softly.

For a moment you were sure that you saw tears glistening in her blue eyes but you could not blame her. She had been through a lot.

“What do you mean?“, you asked.

“What Beth is trying to say is that we can be your family, y/n.“, Leah explained.

You looked up at her in surprise: “Really?“

“This is what this team is and always was.“, Kim nodded solemnly.

“A family…“, you said conclusively.

You looked at your teammates and were left speechless by the determination and empathy in their faces.

After years of suffering through the abuse in youth teams, your heart felt full with gratefulness and adoration for your teammates. But it simultaneously was also breaking for the children still having horrible coaches and being dismissed.

In that moment, you made a promise to yourself to make whatever team you would join a safe space and a family as well.

But for now, you were ready to let your guard down and let your Arsenal family take care of you.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 1: Cat Adams

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4986

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you finally understand what is going on. and that leaves you more lost than ever.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

The first thing you notice is the colour of the walls– beige and cold and not green. You don’t say anything to Spencer, though; you couldn’t even if you tried. Not with all those eyes on you. Your visitor’s pass clicks and clanks against the buttons of your shirt and your hands still shake, even with how tightly they are holding onto your bag. Morgan and Spencer have been very careful to not make too many sudden moves near you, but they are not the problem, it’s the situation. It’s the fact that Spencer doesn’t tell you who is Cat Adams. Is the fact that they made you put your phone in a metal box before entering the building, and then proceed to talk about as if you are not right there. 

“She’s going to need a security detail,” Morgan sighs, sunglass finally off and it knocks your breath away how worried he looks. He can’t really hide it, you think, not with how expressive his eyes are. Spencer, on the other hand, is unreadable. His face is set and frozen in a blank expression that has all the hair on your arms standing up. He doesn’t speak, though, and that is probably the first time you’ve ever seen Spencer Reid that quiet. “Kid, are you listening to me?” 

“Security detail won’t do,” Is all he says before guiding you out of the elevator and into an open space filled with office desk, trapped inside those god awful beige walls. Fuck, you think you are starting to hate beige; that specific shade of it. You hate how it numbs out everything inside, how trapped it makes you feel. No one really talks to you, but from the way they stare, it’s quite obvious that they know what Spencer won’t tell you. 

At this point, there are various things happening inside of you and you can’t quite keep up with them all. Your stomach is roaring, sending sharp jolts of pain up and down your torso and you wince a little with each step you take. In turn, each step you take has you wobbling on unstable legs, and you take deep breaths to try and keep it together. Though every time you inhale, your lungs burn from the panic that lingers in the back of your brain. And finally, you brain, tired and overused, still seems to have an issue with processing the situation, and it takes you to a time that no longer exists– a time in which Spencer laughed at your literary themed jokes, or when he would come with coffee and nothing more than a smile. You understand now, why he kept you in the dark about his job; you understand the weight that this job has on him. 

It makes you wonder if it’s a weight you’re strong enough to carry on your shoulders.

By the time you blink yourself awake from your world of past memories, there are people around you and you don’t recognise any of them. Somehow, you are seated at what looks like a very typical office desk; the chair swivels as you look around. The copy of The Argonauts on the desk is a dead giveaway of whose desk you are on, but then why isn’t he here? Why did he bring you to this cold, cold place and left you by yourself? Why– “Y/N? It’s Y/N, right?”

There are two women next to you, one to your right and one to your left. You don’t like how they make you feel like a cornered animal, but their faces show nothing but understanding and compassion, and you don’t feel like being a bitch will help your situation. Your anger, building higher and stronger with each passing second, is not because of them, and you are many things, but you like to think you are not unfair. “Yeah,” You croak out, gulping the ball of emotions that seemed to be stuck halfway down your throat, making it hard to talk or breathe without your lower lips wobbling pathetically. 

“Y/N, my name is Jennifer, but you can call me JJ. This is Emily, we both work with Reid.” 

It takes you a second to know who they are talking about. For you, it’s never Reid. It’s Spencer when you are laughing at one of his rants about something so niche and specific that you couldn’t find it anything other than amusing. It’s Spence when you’re heart is full and the butterflies are awake. And it’s Favourite Customer when you want to tease him. It’s never just… Reid. “Spencer,” You nod, embarrassed by your own need to say his full name. You don’t want to need him, right now, but you can’t help but look around the open bullpen. His wild, shaggy hair is nowhere to be seen and you don’t understand how the sweet man that stole your heart can do something like this. You are scared and confused and he just left you with strangers. “I uh, I’m sorry, but wha-what’s going on? No one will tell me anything, and I think I have the right to now why Spence had a gun and why I was dragged away from my shop and–“

If you had anything in your stomach, you’d vomit again but all you manage is to double forward a little, the pain of your hunger and your nausea together starting to get a little too much when the added stress of being alone with strangers got added into the mix. “Here,” JJ pushes a packet of saltines towards you. “Got into them when I was pregnant with my boys and now I always keep one here. It’ll be good to eat something, Morgan mentioned you got sick.”

“Thank you, I– Penelope?” Seeing her there, with her pinks and oranges and yellows, makes as little sense as seeing Spencer with a gun. Her warmth and happiness don’t fit in a place like this, that, so far, has only brought you anxiety. 

“Y/N! Oh my god, sweet, pretty Y/N!” For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you chuckle. And it breaks you down inside, how fragile you must seem for Penelope to wobble towards you in such high heels and yet, hug you with the utmost care in the world. It’s in her arms that you start crying again. “Oh no, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay… You’re safe here.” 

“Safe from what?” You wail, and if Spencer had bothered enough to be there, that would’ve been the first time he would have seen you raising your voice. 

Ever since you were little, you never raised your voice. As an adult, it has happened once or twice, but never at someone specifically. Your nature is that of a more reserved person, someone who enjoys the spectator role a bit too much and prefers to observe from afar. There is power in knowledge, and it shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that you value the little bit of it that you have– so much so, that you built a business in which you could gather all the knowledge you deemed special and worthy and important, and then you could share with other people. Sure, you don’t always feel like your job is significantly important for the betterment of the world, but every time a client leaves with a smile, you know you’re doing your part. 

“Cat Adams.” 

The name alone is enough to make you fall onto the chair again, body limp and drained. Spencer is back, but he’s off. His lips are pursed in that way he does when he is unsure of what to say and he’s hidden his hands inside his pockets. It’s his own way of keeping secrets, hiding his hands from you… and you don’t like it. For as long as you have known him, his excitement shone through his hands; it’s the fast movements and the wiggle of his fingers that always make you smile. It’s how he best communicates and now it’s how he pushes you away. “Miss Y/L/N,” There is a man in a suit standing next to him, and you shrink in your chair under his stare. It’s heavy and cold, and you think that if he looks at you for a second longer you might start crying all over again. “My name is Aaron Hotchner, I’m the unit chief for the BAU. Please, come with me and I’ll explain everything. JJ and Spencer, you too. Penelope, prepare to brief the team in 20.”

Part of you wants to tell him no just to see what would happen. It’s clear, from more than just his title, he’s in charge. Your one and only connection to these people and this place is Spencer, so he is your tell-tale. He is your magic ball. It’s a skill, rather than a gift, being able to sense people like this– it’s something that years in retail and sales have taught you– and right now, you see how Spencer shifts his weight from one leg to the other while looking at his boss, waiting for instructions as if he couldn’t come up with them himself, and that, more than anything else that has happened today, is what scares you the most. 

Because if a man like Spencer can’t come up with an answer for this specific issue, you are not sure anyone else can. 

—————————————

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You are not above begging, hands balled into fists on your lap as you look up at Aaron Hotchner with pitiful eyes. You probably look messy, at this point, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you care about is you. And your store. And the fact that an hour has passed since you first got to that godforsaken office and no one seems to care; no one seems to care about your time or your personal affairs. 

They only care about that stupid package. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I apologise for the confusion we’ve caused, but I guarantee that everything that has been done so far was to keep you safe,” His words, as strong as they sound, don’t feel any more assuring than then tentative glance Spencer throws your way. 

“Oh god,” You breathe out, eyes wide while your mind ran circles around you. It is a dangerous thing, to let a literary lover imagine– your brain, filled with epic tales and unforgettable real stories, starts rushing towards the worst case scenario and you find yourself reaching out to hold at something, anything, that might make you feel grounded in reality again. It’s how soft Spencers suit feels in your fingertips that makes you realise you reached out for him. “Oh god, was that like, a bomb? Did I sign for a bomb? Oh god, Spencer, do people send you bombs? I didn’t know, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Spence, I–“ 

“It wasn’t a bomb,” Spencer is quick to interject, hands finally out of his pockets when he reaches out to hold your shoulders. His thumb gently caresses your arm and you try to breathe somewhat regularly, imitating the rise and fall of his chest like he is the beacon light bringing you back home in treacherous waves– like he is the only one you can trust in that place. “Y/N, it’s okay, it wasn’t a bomb. The contents of the package are not important and they were harmless. But we need you to focus. I know I scared you and that this is all very overwhelming, but you need to listen to Hotch. Please.” 

In your mind, you keep repeating those words to yourself– Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“Cat Adams is a prolific serial killer,” Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. “We’ve arrested her a few years ago and we believe she has resurfaced.” 

Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch. Listen to Hotch.

“And that she has been targeting Reid.”

With one panicked look his way, you say what the words stuck in your throat can’t convey– I can’t listen to Hotch anymore. “She… She is a serial killer,” You whisper, eyes focused on Spencer in search of a nod or a shake of his head. This is the FBI, but you only trust him. “And she is after Spencer. Okay, I uh– I need– I don’t know what I need.” 

If you asked Spencer, he would tell you that you have a certain something about you whenever you are tired. Your shoulders slump forward and your head fall on your hands in a desperate way to keep your neck upright. The lack of energy is almost visible in you, and sometimes he has to fight the urge to hold your head up for you. 

But you don’t ask Spencer. Actually, you don’t say anything at all; you let people talk about you and around you, but your brain shuts down with each and every word, unable to retain any more information. “Can I go home?” There is a minute of silence before Hotch sighs, shaking his head. “But you said you arrested her, correct? Therefore I shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I mean, it’s not like she has access to USPS delivery data from prison, right?” The more you speak, the faster you try to get up. You’re not thinking straight, and with all due reason– there is no power left in you to do this. There is no energy, no will, no strength to keep on going because it feels like you’re running in circle. 

Spencer notices it, too, and in what can only be interpreted as a daring attempt to calm you down, he let his hand rest on your shoulder for a second. It’s a subtle way to tell his team to go easy on you, almost like he’s having a full conversation with Hotch without opening his mouth. You, however, don’t catch it, and you continue to try and push yourself upright and away from them. You need to get away from them.

“So she has no clue who I am and I have nothing to do with this because I’m just a bookseller! And I just happened to sell Spencer some books and we’re just friends!”

A wave of shame downs on you when the words leave your mouth, like you are admitting to failure when  you haven’t even had the chance to try it to begin with. It’s like you deny Spencer’s presence in your life as a whole, like he has no significant place or role next to you, and you can’t seem to meet his eyes even when he starts speaking. “Y/N, I am so sorry,” The choked out sound that escapes him is the only thing that makes you look, makes you raise your eyes to meet his and you gasp when you notice he is holding back tears. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was gone, that she was not a threat anymore, I–“ 

“Reid,” JJ sighs, and you see something in her that makes you shift in your chair, a bit uncomfortable with the way his name sounds coming from her lips. “Reid, she’s going to be alright. We will get some officers to keep watch by her place, and we can file a request for protective detail during the day.” 

“You know as much as I do that none of that will help!” Spencer’s voice gets higher and louder with each word and his hands are back at it again, flying around the room in frustration. You have never seen him like that before, and it scares you more to see him scared than to hear that you might now be placed under protective custody. 

“Spence,” This time, when your voice wobbles in fear, it’s not because of him. “Spence, is it really bad?” 

When you were little, you used to refuse to admit your were scared. You’d use any other word– frustrated, spooked, uncomfortable– but you would never admit fear. Your dad always thought it was the cutest thing, though, because despite you puffing your chest out and crossing your little arms over your chest, the one thing that always gave you away was the way your lips wobbled. Right now, you feel like that little kid again, refusing to admit to how you really feel but giving it all out anyways. 

Spencer’s eyes read you like a book. You can feel the weight of them, moving across your face, taking in the lines and expressions you make without even realising. It’s like every part of you is a new chapter, telling him more and more of a story he is yet to finish, and with a sigh, sad and defeated, he nods. “It’s really bad, Y/N, I’m so sorry… this is all my fault. I should’ve been honest with you, I should’ve told you what I did and who I worked for and all that it brings with it.”

“No, Spencer, this is not your fault,” You breathe out, reaching for him in a moment of weakness. Your anger is still there, still simmering at the way that, in a sense, this is very much his fault, but you manage to rise through it when his nervous hands try to reach for you but fall nimble by his sides instead. “I mean, it kind of is, but it isn’t. And it’s okay. I’ll be okay. Right? I’ll be–“

“You’ll be just fine,” Hotch interrupts. His brows are slightly raised and from the way he looks at Spencer you think he knows something you don’t, but you’ve been feeling like that ever since you’ve stepped into that office. Everyone around you knows something you don’t– they know things about each other, about Spencer, that you simply don’t, and that you think you never will. Because after this– this betrayal, this hurt, this fear– you just don’t think you and Spencer can coexist anymore. You don’t think you can forget, as hard as you might try, the sight of him holding that gun to your head. So for now, you try to calm down. For now, all you can do is try to calm down. “Miss Y/L/N, we need to asses the situation, understand if you are in any kind of immediate danger. While our team works on this, we will ask that you relocate. Do you have relatives you can call? Friends?”

Technically, you do. Your parents live in New York and so do most of your friends– all it takes is one call. But that is one call you really don’t want to make. “I don’t want to leave my store,” Looking down at your hands, you wonder how easy it is for them to see right through you. “I just moved here. I know it might sound stupid, specially considering the… you know, this whole situation. But my life is here now and I would rather stay, if, if that’s okay, of course, I mean, you know… best.” God, you look so uncomfortable trying to stand up to his boss that the pity in Spencer’s face is almost palpable. “Please.”

“Hotch, she can stay with me.”

“Do we think that is a good idea?” JJ frowns, and you can’t help but nod, looking at Spencer as if he’s insane.

“I– That’s a very kind offer, but isn’t she after you?” You manage to ask, looking around for any clue their team might give you. These guys are professionals, though, and they know how to keep up their masks of indifference. 

“Yes and no,” He explains, sighing before crouching next to where you sit. “Y/N, this woman– Cat– she is psychology disturbed. She is what we call a black widow, do you know what that is?”

You nod, blushing a little with how close he is to you. “I uh, I read a book that the main character was a black widow. Butter, by Asako Yuzuki.” 

His smile makes you melt a little, and you hate how weak you are to the little windows of personality he allows you to see from time to time. “Yeah, I like that book too. But… this is real life. Cat Adams goes after cheaters, liars.” 

“Then why is she after you?” 

“Because I lied to her,” He admits, your eyes stuck on his expression and if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his jaw ticks in response to what you can only assume to be anger. But you are not, anyone else, you are very much so yourself, an observer, a quiet listener, and it just so happens that your favourite person to observe and listen to is Spencer Reid himself. “I was our decoy to capture her and now she sees me a as a game. Almost like, like a game of wits, to see who’s smarter, to see who will win. Is this making sense, Y/N? Do you need a break?”

“I just, I don’t understand where I fit. I was just housesitting for you, I could’ve been a complete stranger.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Hotch interrupted, leaning forward in such a somber way the hair on your arms stand up. “You have managed to get something she never did. Cat Adams is acting out in jealousy.”

“What did I get? I’m sorry, I don’t–“

“Me,” Spencer said, eyes piercing into yours. “You got me.” 

—————————————

By the time you make it back home, the moon is high and the roads are clear. It has been a while since you last got out of the house at the early hours of the morning. Fresh from the move and focused on your new store, making friends wasn’t at the top of your priority list when you landed, a year and something ago. Without someone to drag you out to bars or bribe you to go to clubs, you don’t really leave the house much at night, preferring the comfort of your own couch and the company of a book in the weekends. 

“You know,” For a second, you almost forget that he is right there behind you, and you jump a little when his voice echoes in your empty apartment. “You’ve been to my place so many times, but I never really even seen your apartment.” 

How do you tell him that there is not much to see, anyways? How do you tell Spencer that, in the time you’ve been here, the 365-plus-something days, you just never really thought about your apartment the same as your home? Your walls are empty, and it’s a little embarrassing, the way his brows shoot up when your turn on the lights. Besides your couch and a centre table, the place is almost empty. The TV stands on an old piece of furniture, a unit too dark and too classic to match with the rest of the things you have, and it’s a little too obvious that it came with the place and you were just too lazy to get rid of it. There is a singular throw pillow on the couch and a blanket, with a pile of books standing by the foot of it. But what really strikes him as odd, what really makes Spencer look around and make sure that yes, this is your apartment, is the fact that there are no shelves. There are no books, besides the four or five pilling up on the rug. 

“You know, for a book lover, you have… no books,” He mumbled, hands on his pocket as he offered you that smile you used to adore so much, but that now makes you a bit uneasy– tight lipped, never really reaching his eyes. “Why do you have no books?” 

“They are all downstairs,” You say, marching straight to your room to grab a backpack. “How many days do you think I’ll be staying with you?” 

“Honestly? Until we solve this.”

“…And how many days is that?”

From where he stands, he can’t see your sagged shoulders, trembling hands holding onto the blue backpack you had laying around the back of your wardrobe. “Pack for as long as you can,” He shouts from somewhere deep inside your place. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Too late for that,” You mumble to yourself, grabbing the closest items your found– a couple of shirts, sweaters, and jeans. After today, it’s not like you have much energy left to try and plan outfits ahead, so anything will do. 

It’s borderline funny, when you think about it… Just yesterday you were worried about what to wear, nervous hands sifting through your endless collection of sweaters to try and find just the right one for the day. Spencer visits you everyday, so everyday is a new day to impress him. You even start wearing makeup; a bit of mascara to make your eyes shine behind the glasses you refuse to wear, some blush to make the natural flush you get whenever he’s around seem more normal. It’s vain and futile, you know, but it makes you feel a tad more confident. A tad more… colourful. Like Penelope. “I think I’m ready,” You say once you’ve gathered all items you might need from the bathroom. “I’ll still be good to work, right?”

He nods, a smile on his face as if this is good news to him too. “Yes, we will have men stationed outside your store all day, so you don’t have to worry about anything while I’m away at the BAU. I’ll personally drop you off and pick you up myself.” His words don’t make you feel any more confident, hands fidgeting with the straps of your backpack. “Y/N, I promise, we will get to the bottom of this as fast as possible. This is temporary, and uh… I’d like to think that, you know, staying with me is not all that bad. You’ll get the bed and you are comfortable in my apartment, anyways, right? And, and! And we can have movie marathons and talk about books, cause I have a lot of books! You know that, of course you know that, you sold me half of them.” Clearing his throat when you just stare at him, you can see how Spencer is ranting. But you don’t mind the rant, actually; oddly enough, his nervous words are the one thing giving you a sense of normalcy right now. “Cat won’t come to you personally, if that helps. She is in federal prison, we’ve confirmed it yesterday, and anyone that comes in and out of your shop will be checked. Y/N, we– I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you need to trust me.”

“I do,” And you don’t mean to sound so sad, but you can’t help it. Right now, he’s the only person you can trust, and for you, that is one of the saddest things you’ve ever experience, because even though you know you need to pull away from him, that you need to put some distance between yourself and the man standing right in front of you, you just don’t trust yourself to be able to do it. “Anyways, can we go? I’m really tired, it’s been one hell of a day.” 

The walk over there drains the last bit of life you still have in you, foot dragging and tripping on the road, and you hate that this is how Spencer holds you for the first time– stopping you from falling on your face. “Sorry,” You mumble, following him once you’re on your feet again. The way his hands hover around you while you slowly make your way up the stairs of his apartment is adorable, and each and every time your heart skips a beat for him, it also breaks for yourself. You are digging your grave, and the worst part is that you don’t seem to care. You’re weak, you think to yourself, exhaling heavily when you finally walk inside the familiar apartment. 

You are so tired that you don’t really think about things too much, dragging yourself to the armchair you adore so much and sitting down. The way you kick your shoes off isn’t very polite, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow; for now, all you want is to shut your eyes and drift off to sleep, lulled by the muted green walls and the stories they told. While you slip into the hypnotic pull of a dreamless slumber, you can hear shuffling in the background, and later on, much later into the night, you don’t feel it, but Spencer covers you with your favourite blanket– the wool one his mother gifted him ages ago, the one you always leave tossed aside on his armchair. And you don’t see the way he smiles at you either, like he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn’t mind; not as long as you get to sleep as soundly as you are then. 

Actually, when it comes to Spencer, you are blind. To logic, yes, but to him, too. For someone as observant as yourself, it’s a little ridiculous how oblivious you are to the looks he send your way when you’re not paying attention. They linger, and he smiles in a way you’re yet to witness, but they are all for you. It’s the one bit of him that Spencer can give you, and you’re not even aware of it enough to take it and keep it safe. 

But maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better to not have hopes. 

Sometimes, Spencer thinks, fixing your blanket so that it tucked under your chin just right when your curl into a small, defenceless ball of exhaustion, it’s better to never have loved, then to have loved and lost.

He would know. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

aaaahhhh this is really happening! it's now official: a muted shade of green is an active series :D sorry if it felt like it took so long for an update, I just don't have much time to write recently, but I'm working on it! hope you like it <3

[noirsdoll]

I just wanna be beaten then babied by my misogynistic husband curly :(

OH MY GOD nonnie this is so good ugh trad misogynist curly is always on my mind!! imagining him as a husband from the 1950’s… cw for domestic abuse and misogyny!

curly has an unshakeable habit of taking his frustrations out on you. anya said he was losing it, but how can that be true when putting his hands on you keeps him sane?

you are this perfect pretty thing that gravitates toward him like a sunflower on a cloudless day. exchanging vows with you was one of the best decisions of his life.

though, none of that matters when he is angry.

he can’t help it, suddenly everything you do is a problem, suddenly his big, burly, teddy bear nature becomes intimidating. he is so much bigger than you, stronger than you, more capable than you— and he makes sure you realize that, littering you with bruises of his own making.

curly tells himself that he does it out of love, that this is the only type of correction that women understand—and you do listen. you never make the same mistake again. you squeeze yourself into something small, dismissible, something that looks pretty slotting into his side in public.

he always invalidates your feelings whenever you get upset. dumb thing, you don’t even realize it because he’s saying it to you so sweetly. “don’t worry, sweetheart. just focus on what you’re good at, yeah?” which is cooking and cleaning— those are a woman’s job in curly’s eyes. he handles everything else for you.

and it’s not all bad. when curly calms down and the red fades from his vision, his rough hands turn so gentle. he takes a knee at your level where you’re crumpled up on the floor, smoothing your disheveled hair from your eyes, gingerly running his fingers over each swollen patch of skin. “i’m doing this for your own good, okay honey?” curly loves you, he really does.

he never truly apologizes or takes responsibility for what he did, but he fucks you so sweetly the following night, trailing kisses over your purpled flesh and calling you his “perfect little housewife.” and the way you squeeze around his dick is the perfect reminder of why he keeps you around.

[angelsfat3]

ⓘㅤ 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋. ⠀⠀( 崇拜我的罪恶，先生。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. In a time when women were burned for using reason and men were supposed to follow the words of God, a demon took possession of a beautiful young man to teach a lost priest, to love.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Sci-fi, drama, religious au.

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Repression, forbidden fruit(?), teasing, tension, religious trauma.

The confessional was nearly dark, illuminated only by the faint flicker of a candle on the nearby altar. You, the priest, sat on the small bench, trying to steady the tremor in your hands as you heard footsteps approaching.

You knew who it was even before he knelt on the other side of the screen.

“Father [...], the world has always been this way, ever since Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit,” Ni-ki began, his tone not just penitent but laced with something darker, something far more intimate. “We were born with sin inside us… as if it were part of our flesh.”

You knew what his words meant, what he was truly trying to say.

You bit your tongue for a moment, tasting the danger in his confession. You responded carefully, your words measured to avoid suspicion but firm like a warning.

“Sin always lies in wait, Ni-ki,” you said with a calmness that barely masked your own turmoil. “But don’t forget that redemption exists, even for the most tormented hearts.”

What you didn’t say was that those very words had failed you on so many nights when the flesh spoke louder than your faith, when your spirit surrendered to Ni-ki.

From the other side, Ni-ki let out a short, almost imperceptible sigh, but to you, it sounded like a scream.

A heavy silence settled between you. You could feel his breath on the other side of the screen, and you knew he was wrestling with himself. Finally, his voice broke the stillness, trembling and barely audible:

“What if… what if sin doesn’t just lie in wait but calls to me? What if my soul leans toward it, as if I can’t resist?”

Heat rose to your face, and you gripped your knees tightly to maintain your composure. You knew him too well.

You knew he wasn’t just talking about sin in the abstract; he was talking about you, about what you’d shared in those fleeting moments where the world seemed to vanish.

“Ni-ki, sin always waits for us, but our will must be stronger than the call of anything that leads us astray,” you said, your voice steadier than your heart.

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either—not when you yourself had strayed so many times toward him, toward his lips, toward the abyss of his body.

“Well, we are human, and… the flesh is weak, Ni-ki,” you said, the weight of your own words almost unbearable. “But we must not give in. Each time we fall, we drift further from the grace that has been granted to us.”

“And what if my will isn’t enough?” Ni-ki pressed, his breathing growing heavier, as if your words hurt him as much as they hurt you. “What if there’s no hope for those who have already fallen?”

The question struck you like a dagger. You knew he wanted you to tell him yes, that there was hope, that what you shared wasn’t condemned. But you couldn’t say that—not here, not ever.

The confessional turned into an oven, the air so thick it was nearly impossible to breathe. Your hands clenched into fists on your knees as you fought the tremor in your chest.

Finally, you leaned closer to the screen, lowering your voice even further.

“Ni-ki… none of us are worthy, but don’t forget that God’s mercy is infinite. No matter how far you think you’ve fallen, there is always redemption… but only if we are willing to let go of what drags us into the abyss.”

Your words felt hollow, even to you. You knew they spoke of him, of the two of you, of the secret you shared that, if discovered, could condemn you both.

Ni-ki didn’t respond immediately, but the silence that followed wasn’t one of repentance. It was one of restrained desire, of something no prayer or penance could erase.

The silence was unbearable. You could imagine his expression on the other side—the mix of pain and frustration you’d seen so many times in his dark eyes.

“And what about you, Father?” he finally whispered, his voice sharp enough to leave you breathless. “Can you let it go?”

The question hung in the air, both an accusation and a plea. You felt your lips move, but no words came out.

You didn’t have an answer because you knew, despite the guilt eating away at you, despite every moment with him being a reminder of the risk you were taking, you couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t seek him out.

But you couldn’t say that.

“Pray, Ni-ki,” was all you could manage, your voice breaking at the end. “Pray that we both find the strength we need.”

Finally, you heard his voice again, barely a murmur.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned… and I will sin again.”

A chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t see him, but you knew his eyes were fixed on the screen, searching for yours through the thin barrier.

You closed your eyes and clutched the crucifix hanging from your neck, trying to remember why you had chosen this path.

You heard him stand, his steps retreating slowly, but you didn’t dare to look. You remained there, in the dim light, the unspoken words weighing like chains around your heart.

You knew that when the day ended and the shadows once again blanketed the village, you would seek him out. And that would be your true sin.

The echo of Ni-ki’s footsteps should have faded, but the silence that remained was unsettling, as though something unseen had filled the space.

You stayed seated on the bench of the confessional, your trembling hands clasped tightly in front of you, searching for solace in the words of your own prayer.

Then, a sharp sound shattered the moment. The door on your side of the confessional creaked open. You looked up, your heart stalling for an instant.

Ni-ki stood there, framed in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the candles. His dark eyes bore into yours—not with the softness or the pain you had grown used to seeing in him.

This time, there was something else, something that made your skin crawl.

He remained silent, his lips slightly parted, as if the words refused to leave. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, as though caught between the urge to move forward and the fear of crossing a line from which there was no return.

But what unsettled you most was what you saw in his eyes: a dark void, a need that didn’t seem human.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You were frozen.

You could only stare, paralyzed by the intensity of his presence. He was Ni-ki, and yet he wasn’t. The gentle warmth that always lowered your guard now seemed overshadowed by a darkness that made him look… different. Unreal.

Finally, you drew in a breath, trying to regain your composure.

“Ni-ki, what are you doing?” you asked, though the question came out as little more than a whisper.

He didn’t respond. He stepped into the confessional, and his shadow seemed to stretch, swallowing the space between you. There was no fear in his gaze, but neither was there comfort. It was as though he was about to consume you with his eyes.

“You… look different,” you continued, your hands gripping the edge of the bench to steady yourself. “What is it that you need?”

His reply was barely audible, an echo that seemed to come from some deep corner of his being:

“You.”

Your chest tightened, and the air seemed to abandon you entirely. But there was something in the way he said it—something not like the restrained passion you knew. It was something else, something that chilled you to the bone.

You closed your eyes and began murmuring a prayer, the words spilling from your lips in desperation.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

Ni-ki took another step closer, and the heat in the small cabin became suffocating. You could feel his gaze on you, intense and heavy, as if he sought to strip more than just your resolve.

“Hallowed be thy name…” you continued, your hands now trembling uncontrollably. “Deliver us from evil…”

Ni-ki’s voice, softer yet laden with that inhuman intensity, cut through your prayer.

“Do you think that will save you from me?”

Your eyes snapped open, and you saw him so close you could barely breathe.

Ni-ki’s face was mere inches from yours, but his expression was that of someone caught between suffering and ecstasy.

He was real, and he was here to claim you.

Your breaths came shallow, barely enough to keep you conscious as Ni-ki’s gaze pierced through you. His eyes, as dark as the deepest night, glimmered with something you couldn’t name—something that made the air feel heavier, as if reality itself bent to his will.

Ni-ki raised a hand slowly, his fingers brushing the wood of the confessional as though savoring every grain. His voice, low but filled with a power that didn’t seem human, broke the silence.

"You cannot pray against what is already within you, Father."

The words struck like a weight on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

This place, sanctified by so many prayers and penances, now felt like a battleground where the sacred and the profane faced each other head-on.

"Ni-ki, you don't know what you're saying," you murmured, though even you doubted your own words. Your voice trembled, unable to hide the fear creeping into your heart.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... curious. His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Don’t I?" he replied, taking another step closer, so near now you could feel his warm breath against your skin. "Or is it you who doesn’t understand what we are?"

The word we echoed in your mind, an unrelenting whisper that refused to fade.

You shook your head, trying to hold onto reality, to what you knew to be true. But even as you did, you felt your conviction crumbling like a sandcastle under an unstoppable wave.

"This isn’t real," you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your growing despair. "Ni-ki, you... you’re not this."

His smile widened, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, a spark that made you instinctively retreat against the pew.

"Not this?" he asked, almost amused. "Then what am I, Father? The frightened boy who sought comfort in your words? Or the man who has patiently waited for you to stop pretending?"

The intensity of his gaze made you look away, but you couldn’t escape the weight of his presence, which seemed to fill every corner of the confessional. It was as if he were absorbing the light itself, leaving only shadows in his wake.

You tried praying again, your lips moving quickly as you muttered.

"Deliver us from evil, amen. Deliver us from evil..."

But Ni-ki leaned closer, stopping you with a hand that lightly touched your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His fingers were warm, but his touch sent a chill down your spine.

"Stop fighting," he whispered, his voice so soft it felt like a caress. "The evil isn’t outside of you, Father. It’s here. With me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat reverberating in your ears as you tried to pull away from him. But you couldn’t.

Not because you lacked the strength, but because something in his gaze held you still, as if you were caught under a spell.

"Ni-ki, please..." you managed to say, though your voice broke into a whisper.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours.

"Please what?" he asked, his tone dripping with a mix of mockery and something darker, something that sent shivers down to your very bones. "Please stop? Or please stay and make me yours?"

The tension was unbearable, and you felt your will falter. Deep down, you knew you were on the brink of something from which there was no return, something that would challenge not just your faith but everything you believed yourself to be.

And then, Ni-ki smiled—that same smile that now seemed to belong to someone—or something—entirely different.

"Choose, Father," he murmured, his voice soft, yet the words thundered in your mind. "But remember... you can’t save us both."

The silence that followed was suffocating, laden with a palpable tension that seemed to freeze the air between you. Ni-ki didn’t look away, his smile cutting into you like a blade.

His hand remained on your chin, holding you with a gentleness that only made the situation more unbearable. You could feel the warmth of his skin, but the touch burned as if marked by something unholy.

"Why do you tremble, Father?" he whispered, leaning even closer. His breath brushed against your lips, and his dark gaze glimmered with a mix of challenge and... delight? "You shouldn’t fear me. After all, you’re the man of God, aren’t you?"

"You cannot pray against what is already within you, Father."

The words struck like a weight on your chest, stealing the air from your lungs.

This place, sanctified by so many prayers and penances, now felt like a battleground where the sacred and the profane faced each other head-on.

"Ni-ki, you don't know what you're saying," you murmured, though even you doubted your own words. Your voice trembled, unable to hide the fear creeping into your heart.

He tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... curious. His lips curved into a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Don’t I?" he replied, taking another step closer, so near now you could feel his warm breath against your skin. "Or is it you who doesn’t understand what we are?"

The word we echoed in your mind, an unrelenting whisper that refused to fade.

You shook your head, trying to hold onto reality, to what you knew to be true. But even as you did, you felt your conviction crumbling like a sandcastle under an unstoppable wave.

"This isn’t real," you insisted, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your growing despair. "Ni-ki, you... you’re not this."

His smile widened, and a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, a spark that made you instinctively retreat against the pew.

"Not this?" he asked, almost amused. "Then what am I, Father? The frightened boy who sought comfort in your words? Or the man who has patiently waited for you to stop pretending?"

The intensity of his gaze made you look away, but you couldn’t escape the weight of his presence, which seemed to fill every corner of the confessional. It was as if he were absorbing the light itself, leaving only shadows in his wake.

You tried praying again, your lips moving quickly as you muttered.

"Deliver us from evil, amen. Deliver us from evil..."

But Ni-ki leaned closer, stopping you with a hand that lightly touched your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His fingers were warm, but his touch sent a chill down your spine.

"Stop fighting," he whispered, his voice so soft it felt like a caress. "The evil isn’t outside of you, Father. It’s here. With me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat reverberating in your ears as you tried to pull away from him. But you couldn’t.

Not because you lacked the strength, but because something in his gaze held you still, as if you were caught under a spell.

"Ni-ki, please..." you managed to say, though your voice broke into a whisper.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from yours.

"Please what?" he asked, his tone dripping with a mix of mockery and something darker, something that sent shivers down to your very bones. "Please stop? Or please stay and make me yours?"

The tension was unbearable, and you felt your will falter. Deep down, you knew you were on the brink of something from which there was no return, something that would challenge not just your faith but everything you believed yourself to be.

And then, Ni-ki smiled—that same smile that now seemed to belong to someone—or something—entirely different.

"Choose, Father," he murmured, his voice soft, yet the words thundered in your mind. "But remember... you can’t save us both."

The silence that followed was suffocating, laden with a palpable tension that seemed to freeze the air between you. Ni-ki didn’t look away, his smile cutting into you like a blade.

His hand remained on your chin, holding you with a gentleness that only made the situation more unbearable. You could feel the warmth of his skin, but the touch burned as if marked by something unholy.

"Why do you tremble, Father?" he whispered, leaning even closer. His breath brushed against your lips, and his dark gaze glimmered with a mix of challenge and... delight? "You shouldn’t fear me. After all, you’re the man of God, aren’t you?"

You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat. You were paralyzed, caught between the urge to push him away and the unknown abyss his closeness threatened to drag you into. Ni-ki noticed, and his smile widened, malicious and taunting.

"You know," he continued, his voice low and seductive, every word falling over you like drops of venom, "I’ve always wondered if your prayers were as sincere as you claimed. Now I see they’re not. Not when you tremble like this... with me so close."

He released your chin slowly, but he didn’t move away. His hand trailed downward, grazing the collar of your cassock, his fingers toying with the edge of the fabric, as if tempted to tear it away.

His gaze never left yours, and every movement he made was laced with a clear intention: to make you fall.

"Young lamb of God... this has to stop," you finally managed to say, though your voice was barely a whisper. Your words, however, only seemed to amuse him further.

"Stop?" he repeated, tilting his head with feigned confusion. "Why should I? Isn’t this what you wanted with me?"

The audacity in his tone hit you like a punch. You stared at him with a mix of disbelief and horror, but he was unfazed. He took another step closer, closing the distance between you until there was no space left to breathe.

"Don’t say you didn’t want this, Father." His voice dropped lower, a whisper dripping with insinuation. "I’ve seen how you run your fingers over your lips after they brush against mine... Always thinking no one noticed. But I did. I always did."

Your mind filled with fleeting images—of all the times you’d allowed your gaze to linger on him too long, of all the nights you’d battled thoughts that had no place in the life of a priest.

Ni-ki was tearing through every layer of your defenses, exposing you without mercy.

He leaned in until his face was level with yours, his dark eyes glinting with something deeper, something more terrifying.

"Tell me, Father," he asked, his tone mocking, "how many times have you prayed to be freed from me? How many times have you begged your God to strip this ‘sin’ away from you?"

His fingers, playful yet deliberate, trailed down to your chest, brushing against the cross hanging from your neck.

"You know what I think?" he continued, leaning even closer, his lips grazing the skin of your ear. "I think not even He can save you from me."

Your body reacted before your mind did. You pulled away abruptly, rising from the pew and stumbling back a few steps. But even then, the image of Ni-ki standing there with that wicked smile haunted you.

He didn’t move, but his gaze followed you—intense, inescapable.

"Where are you going, Father?" he asked, his tone feigning innocence, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his true game. "To hide behind your office again?"

Desperation overtook you, and you began murmuring a prayer, the words tumbling clumsily from your lips.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, I beg you for your son...”

Ni-ki laughed—a low, dark sound that echoed through the space like a sinister refrain.

“You really think that will work?” he asked, openly mocking you. “Pray all you want, but you know you can’t resist this. You can’t resist me.”

His confidence, his audacity, cut through you like a twisted blade. You wanted to scream, to cry for help, but there was no one else. No one who could understand what was happening—not even you.

His eyes, dark and searing, were locked on yours. There was something in his gaze you couldn’t fully decipher—something between desperation and defiance, as though he were on the verge of breaking something inside himself... or inside you.

“What will you do now, Father?” he asked, his tone barely a whisper yet powerful enough to drown out the prayers you were trying to recite. “Will you cast me out? Or will you fall to your knees before me, as you’ve done so many times in your mind?”

Your breathing was erratic, your hands trembling as you clung to the rosary like a lifeline.

But Ni-ki offered no reprieve. His face was now just a breath away from yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your lips moved without purpose. “Ni-ki, this... this isn’t right,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely audible, a broken echo of your feeble resistance.

He tilted his head, and the smile on his lips softened, though his eyes still burned with an intensity that stripped away every defense you had.

“Not right?” he repeated, his tone laced with mockery but tinged with something deeper, something painfully intimate. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you don’t desire me anymore, and I’ll leave.”

His words pierced you like a knife because you knew you couldn’t say them. Not without lying. Not without betraying the truth you buried deep inside yourself. You tried to look away, but his hand rose, warm and firm, cradling your face with a tenderness that starkly contrasted the storm of emotions he’d unleashed.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice deeper, more commanding.

Your heart pounded fiercely, each beat reverberating in your ears like a war drum. The space around you seemed to collapse, until all that existed was him—his face, his eyes, the overwhelming intensity of his presence that engulfed you like a tidal wave.

“Say it,” he whispered, demanding, his thumb grazing your cheek softly as his eyes flicked to your lips. “Say it, and I’ll leave.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in that moment, the truth became unbearably clear. Ni-ki wasn’t just your temptation—he was your surrender.

And then it happened.

He leaned in, closing the remaining distance between you in an instant. His lips crashed against yours—firm, insistent, brimming with an intensity that could no longer be ignored.

It was a deep, desperate kiss, laden with everything both of you had suppressed for far too long.

Your mind screamed in protest, reminding you of who you were, where you were, what this meant. But your body—treacherous, rebellious—did not resist. Your lips moved against his, responding with the same desperation, as if you were both drowning, and this was the only air you could share.

The taste of him—somewhere between the bitterness of the forbidden and the sweetness of the inevitable—imprinted itself on you. Your hands, which had initially pushed against him, betrayed you by clutching his shirt, pulling him closer.

His hand on your face slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place, while his body pressed into yours, erasing every inch of space between you.

The world seemed to stop.

The confessional, the church, even the cross hanging above you vanished, eclipsed by the sheer intensity of the moment. This kiss wasn’t just an act of passion; it was a battle—a war between who you were and what he made you feel.

Ni-ki let out a low sound, almost a stifled groan, and his body pressed harder against yours, making it clear this was not a fleeting lapse in judgment. It was a cry, a desperate act born of something deeper than either of you could admit aloud.

When he finally pulled back—barely an inch—the spell broke, leaving you both gasping, your breaths mingling in the charged air. His gaze bore into yours, the darkness in his eyes more intense than ever.

“I knew it,” he murmured, his voice rough, laced with a dangerous satisfaction. “You couldn’t even stop yourself.”

His words left you paralyzed, unable to respond as your thoughts spiraled. But Ni-ki didn’t wait for an answer. With one final look, heavy with unspoken promises, he leaned in again, brushing his lips against yours in a gesture almost tender.

“This isn’t over, love.” he whispered before stepping back slowly, his smile returning with a victorious edge. “This is only the beginning.”

And with those words, he left the confessional, leaving you alone, trapped in a silence that no longer felt sacred, your lips still burning from his touch and your soul staring into the abyss he had opened within you.

The wood clicked softly as you slid the small door shut, sealing yourself off from the rest of the world. The confined space, once a refuge for penitence and absolution, now felt charged with something entirely different. Your breaths came quick and uneven, as though the air itself refused to fill your lungs.

Your mind was chaos.

Images of Ni-ki—his dark gaze, his malicious smile, the heat of his touch, and, most vividly, the memory of his lips on yours and his tongue invading your mouth—were seared into your consciousness like a burning brand.

Every time you tried to push those thoughts away, they came rushing back, stronger, dragging you into the moment you had just shared.

Your hands trembled as you attempted to entwine your fingers with the rosary still hanging around your neck, searching for an anchor, a lifeline to pull you from this inner storm. But instead of solace, you found an insatiable hunger, a need that consumed you from within.

You closed your eyes, leaning your back against the wooden confessional as if the cold surface could extinguish the fire raging beneath your skin. But it didn’t.

The heat coursed through your chest, your throat, every part of you, an unstoppable tide that left no room for reason.

Your hands, which had sought refuge in the rosary, slowly fell, almost as if guided by some force outside your control. They grazed your neck, where the ghost of Ni-ki’s fingers still lingered, before trailing down to your chest, tracing the fabric of your cassock. Your breathing quickened as your fingers pressed lightly against the material, as though trying to erase the weight of his touch—or perhaps summon it again.

Guilt began to rise, but it was quickly drowned out by a wave of desire you couldn’t contain. The echo of Ni-ki’s words resonated in your mind, every syllable a spark that fed the fire within you.

“You can’t escape me.”

A shiver ran through your body at the memory of how he had said it, how his lips had formed those words while his gaze devoured you.

Your hands continued their journey, sliding past your waist, your fingers tracing lines that burned even through the cloth. It was as if the memory of him was etched into every fiber of your being, impossible to tear away.

It was a matter of seconds before you slipped one of your hands inside your pants and underwear, caressing and squeezing your manhood. At that moment you just wanted to break free, as you always did when you were alone in your office or room.

At that moment, the confessional ceased to be a holy place. Its sanctity had been lost the instant you allowed yourself to succumb to the desire Ni-ki had ignited. Your lips, still swollen from the kiss, parted with a soft sigh as your free hand clutched at your cassock, as if the simple gesture could release some of the pressure consuming you.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the wall of the confessional, your ragged breaths filling the small space. It was a struggle, a battle between what you knew was right and what your body craved with terrifying intensity.

“This is a sin...”

You knew it, but the knowledge wasn’t enough to stop you. The weight of your faith, which had always been your guide, now felt like an impossible burden to bear. And deep within your soul, you recognized the truth you had been trying to deny for so long.

You didn’t want to stop.

Your voice escaped in a barely audible whisper, a mixture of plea and despair.

“God, forgive me... for I am being dragged down by Satan’s lust...”

But even as you spoke those words, your hands continued to move, one clutching at the fabric of your cassock while the other traced your body with an intensity you had never allowed yourself before. In that moment, there was no room for regret—only for the raw, overwhelming desire Ni-ki had left behind, like an indelible mark etched into your very being.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I know almost nothing about the church or religion itself, so I made up most of the prayers...

+ New stories on the way, I promise. 🙂‍↕️︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

[weneepie]

mixed feelings w/ bruce wayne rules | m.list

note. hiii i'm back (who knows for how long lmao) but i wanted to write a fake dating au with bruce so here we go! feel free to request, i'll try to do them as soon as possible <3

How difficult it was to be the official girlfriend of no one else than Bruce Wayne himself. It was even more since you weren’t his real girlfriend but only a cover for him to always have someone to bring during those never ending galas. It wasn’t an easy life ; people were always asking questions about your relationship, about an intimacy you didn’t share with him at all. 

Why would you be doing this? Because Bruce was paying you well. More than well actually, it was more than you could ever gain with a classic full-time job. There was no way you would let go of this opportunity just because you were tired of those fake asses everywhere. You were stronger than that, especially for so much money. 

So here you were, talking with some women at one of those parties where he always brought you to. You could sense the jealousy and tension in their tone as they spoke to you. After all, you were supposedly dating the heir of Gotham, the most powerful man in this sick city. You could understand their behavior in a way, you would have probably not be better than them. 

Until you heard a voice you couldn’t recognize. You had come to enough parties to know almost everyone by now, but this one? You couldn’t tell. When you turned around, your eyes laid on a charismatic man, with a charming smile. His blond soft locks were pushed back, giving him a clean look. Behind those blue eyes, you could feel a man that used to have his way with everyone ; you could recognize them so easily. 

“Milady,” he took your hand in his, bringing it closer to his lip so he could leave a gentle kiss on the back of it, against the dark glove that was covering your delicate hand. You were a bit surprised, because no one ever dared touching you like this before. You were here with Bruce Wayne after all, nobody wanted this man against them. 

“It’s an honor to be finally meeting the woman I have heard so much about.” His voice was smooth, too much for it to be without any second thought behind. But all you did was to smile gently at him, your soft gaze laying on his face. You had to be correct, polite ; it was the most important thing, as Bruce always said. 

“And you are?” You asked without a harsh tone, just wanting to know who the man in front of you was. You were curious, you had to admit it. You weren’t used to this kind of behavior at all. And this is how you ended up spending some time with this man, without your supposed boyfriend noticing anything. 

Until he did. And oh God, the man felt something ignite inside his veins. When his eyes laid on your figure, so close to this guy, all smiling and laughing like you rarely did with him, it didn’t feel right, not to him. You should be like this with him, not anyone else. 

You were about to say something when you felt a hand resting against your hip. It didn’t take you long to recognize his touch ; those hands could be to one man alone. You looked at the man with your softest smile, the one you had so much practiced. But he wasn't looking at you. Oh no. All his attention was fixed on the blondie in front of you. 

“Bruce Wayne! What a pleasure.” He offered his hand to Bruce, and you could feel his fingers slightly tensing around your hip. He shook the man’s hand, but it was pure politeness. He had an image to protect, but it was obvious that if it was only him, he would already have hit the guy right in the face for acting so casually with you. 

You didn’t have time to talk much more with the man, because your ‘boyfriend’ decided it was enough for the night, and that you should both be going by now. You were in his expensive car as he drove you back to your apartment. The mood was… awful. Something felt so off, and you couldn’t understand what. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked him, glancing at his figure in the driver’s seat. He frowned a little at his words, just enough for you to notice it. You sighed ; it was really feeling like talking to a child who doesn’t have the toy he wanted. “I did as you told me to, I tried to sympathize.” 

A bitter chuckle left his lips at his words, and this time it was your turn to frown. You didn’t like that, when he was acting like it was your fault when you clearly didn’t do anything wrong. “Speak already!” You snapped at him and he suddenly stopped the car, letting a light gasp leaving your lips. You looked back at him, eyes widened. 

“Are you mad?” You almost yelled at him, and this time he was looking right into your eyes. “You had fun with this stupid guy, uh? Was it so great?” Reality finally hit you. He was jealous. Bruce Wayne, the cold and indifferent heir of Gotham, was jealous of some random guy you spent the night with. You couldn’t believe it. 

“Seriously? What are you scared of, that he paid me enough to leave? I won't-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as Bruce reached your face with his hand to hold your chin between his fingers. He was calm, too calm. “I don’t care about how he could pay you. It’s not about money.”

Not about money? With him? Something was clearly wrong. “It’s about you. You shouldn’t have eyes for anyone else other than me.” He let go of your chin, putting his hand back on the steering wheel, focusing on the road again. 

It was difficult to follow a man who had such mixed feelings, so tortured in his mind. You simply glanced at him, before you looked through the window, waiting for the car to finally arrive at your place. It was not like you could do anything about this anyway. 

Time would tell how things will turn out, but no one other than Bruce could change how it was.

thank you for reading!

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

If you voted for trump, or third party, or not at all. Fuck you. I'm so incredibly serious. I'm so genuinely masked off, true colors kind of fucking serious.

The blood of transgender children is on your hands. The kids that are killing themselves today, the families torn apart because of that mans win. The blood of women who will be denied life-saving medical care is on your hands. The blood of people of color is on your hands. The blood of Palestine will be on your hands. You thought you were helping? You just fucked them. You killed them. You loaded the gun AND pulled the trigger.

Will you look any of these people in the eyes and apologize? Or do you still feel moral and just? I hope you never know peace again. I sure as hell won't, and I voted blue. I voted to keep those people alive.

I hope you never sleep soundly again knowing this was all your fault.

And to everyone who DID vote blue. To everyone who's rightfully terrified. To everyone who's in danger now.

I love you guys. Please stay safe. Please stay alive. You're so much stronger than you'll ever know. You're so much braver than you'll ever know. Do what you need to do to stay safe. But remember through all this that you are loved, you are valued, you will survive. We HAVE to survive.

He can't wipe us out that easily. He can't kill all of us. He never will kill all of us. We're stronger than them. We're braver than them. And we will NEVER lay down and die to them.

Keep fighting. For the love of god keep fighting. I know we're all exhausted, but it's all we can do. Stay strong, stay together. We will get through this.

[bellaveux]

more fuckgirl!wanda x reader , can we have wanda show her protective dom side

OFF LIMITS | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda hates the way everyone is ogling at you, and makes sure to remind everyone that you are, very much, off limits.

content warnings: minors dni please. college au!, fuckgirl!sorority president!wanda, dom!wanda, jealousy, possessiveness, bottom!reader, smut! – mirror sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, fingering, marking/hickeys

word count: 3.28k

note. writing feels kinda all over the place am sorry,, i went both protective and possessive (they sometimes confuse me while writing loool) but i hope u enjoy it and ty for request!

Wanda was both a woman of contradictions and a force to be reckoned with. On one hand, she was a disciplined and hard-working leader, respected by her peers and admired for her dedication to the sorority. On the other, she was a party animal, a woman who loved nothing more than to let loose, have a good time, and charm women left and right. No doubt was she popular, with everyone from the freshmen to the seniors looking up to her as a role model. Her energy was infectious, and her spirit was unstoppable, as she flitted from one party to another, always with a smile on her face and a drink in her hand.

And her game was undoubtedly unmatched. With the tiniest twinkle in her eye and a sultry smile on her lips, Wanda could make even the most stoic person melt with desire. She was the object of desire for many who crossed her path, making her popularity with everyone on campus legendary, people drawn to her like a magnet. Enjoying the game of love, teasing and tempting those around her, she loved the attention, and always knew how to charm and seduce with ease. Her flirtatious nature was a part of her, an extension of her personality, and it was something that she enjoyed using to her advantage. It was a game that she played with finesse and skill, a dance of words and gestures that left those around her breathless and wanting more.

But while others voluntarily gave her attention, there was only one person she wanted, and that was you.

You and Wanda always had an undeniable attraction towards each other, a magnetic force that seemed to draw you together, no matter how hard you tried to resist. There was a tension between you two, a spark that ignited every time you were in the same room, eyes locking, and bodies leaning in closer. It was as if you shared a secret language, a hidden connection that only you and her could understand, and that seemed to grow stronger with every passing day. And yet, despite your chemistry, you were not together, and it seemed as if you would never be. Much to Wanda’s disappointment, you have always rejected her pursuits and advances. Unlike her, you valued the time you spend with another person, wanting more than to be a fling. You wanted love from someone who adored you, someone who made you feel special, and initially, you didn’t think Wanda could be that person.

Wanda stood at the edge of the crowded sorority party, drink in her hand, eyes fixed on you. The room was alive with music and chatter, but for Wanda, it all faded away into the background as she watched as you entered the room, greeting everyone who came up to you with such gracefulness. Wanda always knew you liked to look good, but God, why did you have to wear something as sexy as that? The black dress hugged your curves in all the right places, the skin on your back completely exposed for everyone to see. Wanda was entranced, her heart beating faster as she felt the pull of attraction towards you. She tried to look away, to focus on something else, maybe on the girls who were already talking to her, but no one could compete with you, the woman who had captured her attention completely, dependably each and every time. Wanda couldn't help but admire the way you moved in that dress, with a grace and poise that seemed effortless. And as your eyes met across the crowded room, Wanda felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body just right before you smirked and turned away from her, returning to your friends.

And so, she watched you all night, unable to focus on the rest of the people around her, who wanted her attention. She was too captivated by you, like she was under a spell, and couldn’t do anything else but stare.

Soon, she noticed that she wasn’t the only one who saw you. Of course, she wasn’t. Everywhere you walked, between the sea of people, heads turned and eyes followed, as the other people in the party looked on in awe and admiration. Your beauty was almost surreal, a dream-like quality that made you seem like you were from another world entirely. You, like her, were popular in the way that everyone on campus wanted to be with, but no one could quite capture. And Wanda wanted to have the honor.

She watched as all sorts of people came up to you, asking to dance, for your number, and introducing themselves like they even had a chance. As the seconds passed, Wanda’s jealousy grew. You would throw that pretty smile of yours their way as you politely rejected them. Some of them would even become quite touchy with you, and Wanda hated being the one to watch on the sidelines. She wanted everyone to back off, tell everyone that you were hers, a territory no one shall trespass.

And when you allowed a bubbly freshman, dressed in an all black suit, named Kate, to stay a little longer than Wanda would’ve liked, touching you softly down your back as you spoke and drank from the cup she had gotten you, Wanda decided to take action.

“Don’t touch her,” Wanda said firmly as she stood closely behind you, watching the younger woman immediately pull her hand back off of you.

“Wanda,” you warned, glancing up at her, cautiously eyeing her with your sly eyes for her next move.

Kate watched the interaction carefully, seemingly finding it hard to butt in under the sudden tension that Wanda had brought along with her, “S-Sorry… Hi, I’m Kate.”

Wanda said nothing, and instead, she threw a tiny, bitter smile at her before turning back to you, her hand slowly creeping up your waist. You did little to stop her touch, and if anything, you found yourself leaning closer. It never surprised you how good Wanda was at being territorial and overprotective she was when it came to you, and under your facade, you found it attractive.

“Do you think I could steal you away for just a second?” Wanda whispered into your ear, but loud enough for Kate to catch.

You put your cup down against the counter of the bar and smiled artfully, shaking your head at her, “Uh, actually, Kate and I were having a conversation here, so I really don’t think you can.”

Wanda hummed in annoyance, taking a moment to glare at you as you turned back to the other woman. She felt a pang of jealousy in her chest, watching you and this Kate interact as if she wasn’t even there, and she wanted nothing more than to drag you away from her and all the lingering eyes that were currently still on you. At this point, her blood boiled at every little thing everyone did around you.

“Kate,” Wanda tried again, more firmly this time, as if steam was coming from her ears, face almost red with anger. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, no— of course,” she laughed awkwardly, backing up as slowly as if she had just angered a lion.

And so, Kate left, much to Wanda’s satisfaction, but it did much to fuel your irritation towards Wanda’s actions. And right when she left, another person came up, as if they were in line to talk to you, but instead, Wanda shot them a deathly glare, and they immediately backed off.

You sighed and turned towards the counter, rubbing your temples without even looking at her, “What is wrong with you?”

“I just did you a favor,” Wanda scoffed and folded her arms as you moved away from her. “She wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you, (y/n).”

“Why is sex the only thing on your mind, Wanda? I was just talking to her. Like a normal person,” you tell her, rolling your eyes.

“Oh, come on, you and I both know what she was doing,” she said. “She was all over you.”

She couldn't help but feel possessive over you, and the thought of anyone else touching you or even flirting with you was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

And finally, you turned to her and smirked, your chin in the palm of your hands as you looked up at her through your eyelashes, “Mm, and why is that so important to you?”

“You know why.”

You, in fact, did know why. After all the times Wanda has chased after you, trying desperately to get you to accept her advances, you never did, not wanting to be a part of her seemingly long list of women that she played with. No, initially, you decided you’d do the playing, teasing her without any further intentions afterwards, and it only made her want you more. But at this point, you longed for Wanda’s touch, despite how infuriating she can be at times. The undeniable attraction you had towards each other tied you together, and Wanda only wanted you all to herself.

You shook your head once more and stepped forward, bringing your hand up to flatten out her collar neatly, “It’s kinda cute when you’re jealous.”

Wanda said nothing to deny that and instead, she clenched her jaw while savoring your touch, feeling the tips of your fingers graze her neck softly.

She stood close, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her cool. But you were teasing her with the way you stepped forward, looking up at her with those pretty eyes in a way that made Wanda's frustration grow with each passing moment. It was maddening, the way you played with her, toying with her emotions. Wanda felt a surge of anger rising within her, a fire that threatened to consume her if she didn't do something about it. She tried to maintain her composure, to keep a cool head, but it was no use. Everything you did and said was like a knife, cutting deep into Wanda's heart and making her ache with desire.

Ultimately, unable to take it any longer, she grabbed your wrist and dragged away from the bar, away from every single person who eyed you, through the crowd and into the hallways where she pulled you into one of the many bathrooms in the whole building.

Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist, her front pressed up against your back, holding you close with her lips barely grazing the skin of your neck and her hands running down the sides of your dress. This damn dress. The way it clung to the curves of your body, the fabric draped in such a way that showcased your back, revealing just enough to keep her wanting more. The sight of your bare skin was tantalizing, and Wanda felt a flutter in her chest as she pressed up against you.

“I don’t like the way they keep staring at you,” Wanda confessed as you watched her slowly pepper soft kisses down your neck to your shoulder through the reflection of the mirror.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, reveling in the softness of her lips against your skin, “What are you going to do about it?”

And you felt it — a smirk against your shoulder, making you realize what you had suddenly gotten yourself into. Wanda squeezed your hips with her hands, proudly looking at you through the mirror as if she were savoring the moment she now had you all to herself, in her arms, in her hands.

“I’m gonna remind them that you’re off limits.”

Surprisingly, Wanda was being so gentle, kissing and sucking at your skin softly, marking you, littering plenty of hickeys down your neck and shoulder, and you watched her do it in the mirror. You watched when one of her hands would travel up from your waist to wrap her palm around the swell of your breasts, fondling them eagerly, making you hum a moan in satisfaction. Her other hand found its way down to your thighs, moving slowly under your dress. You couldn’t help but watch again, the sight in the mirror almost making your knees give out, as Wanda moved the hand that was on your breast down to the hem of your dress, bunching up the fabric to pull it up your thighs.

Her fingers finally traced the hem of your panties as she watched your face carefully in the reflection. You looked so pretty like this, practically melting in her arms, lips parted with your eyes closed, as she played with you. After a second of admiring the way you looked, Wanda brought a hand up to grab your jaw, turning your head towards her, before leaning into you for a sloppy kiss, opening your mouth as she pressed a finger to your clothed clit. You moaned into her mouth, giving her perfect chance to slide her tongue into yours, immediately falling in love with the way you tasted. Oh, Wanda just couldn’t wait to have her way with you.

“You’re so wet for me already,” she whispered in your ear, fingers still playing over your clothed sex. “I’ve barely touched you yet.”

“Wanda,” you breathed, eyes closed as you laid your head back against her shoulder.

“No, baby, open your eyes,” she smiled into your cheek as you followed her instructions. “I want you to watch when I fuck you.”

You didn’t know how your knees didn’t just give out the moment she said those words. Not wanting to disappoint, you made sure to keep your eyes open as best you could, watching how her hands moved underneath the fabric of your dress. When you finally feel her fingers slipping into your panties, Wanda moans against your shoulder, her eyes rolling back as she feels the wetness of your pussy. You were practically dripping.

Without wasting another second, Wanda pushed two fingers into you with ease. You moaned softly, immediately clenching around her as she curled her fingers into you, pressing against the sweet spot in your pussy, which she seemed to have no trouble finding.

“You can do better than that, baby,” Wanda whispered, fingers suddenly pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Mmh–W-Wanda,” you moaned out, holding on to her wrist as she fingered you. “Oh, fuck!”

Her second hand was brought into play shortly after, using it to rub your clit roughly, making you jolt against her, legs shaking, and your slick slowly traveling down your thighs. The sight of you writhing against her in the reflection was almost too hot for you to look at, always turning your head away, only for Wanda to grab your jaw and turn you back to face the mirror. You were tight around her fingers, and Wanda couldn’t help but groan at the fact, staring at you through the mirror as you came undone on her fingers.

You shook erratically as you came, unable to think about anything else but the orgasm she had just given you. That was until you felt her pushing in a third finger into your leaking hole without any warning. You tried to push against her, to ask her to give you a second, but something about the way her eyes looked in the mirror as she stared at you gave you a feeling that she would just keep doing whatever she pleased.

So, you let her, no matter how sensitive you were.

“That’s it, baby,” she groaned. “Being such a good girl for me.”

“Please, please—“ you whined, not sure if you were begging for more or begging her to stop.

The stretch of her three fingers was enough to make you chant her name like a prayer as she fucked you through your first orgasm. She was knuckles deep into your squelching pussy, curling them in a rhythmic pattern against your sweet spot, and it made you wonder how you were still standing. Her fingers piston in and out of you, bringing you to the edge for the second time tonight, making your bones feel like jelly. And finally, you arch your back against her, coming right on her fingers once again, screaming her name out without a care in the world, knowing everyone outside the door must’ve heard you.

But Wanda kept going. She continued to finger you, lost in thought after watching you come twice in the mirror, your cunt gushing so loudly, it’s embarrassing.

“Look how pretty you are, (y/n),” she cooed, using her other hand to grope your tits.

“I- I can’t, Wanda, p-please—“ you whined, gripping onto her tightly, unable to watch yourself through the mirror anymore. “T-Too much, please!”

“But you're so pretty when you beg. Why wouldn't I just keep going and going and... going?”

And so, she does. She fucks you until you can barely stand anymore, when your knees buckle, and she has to hold you up with one arm around your waist and even then, she still keeps going, and you’re sobbing at the overstimulation. You almost nearly fall and curl in on yourself, but Wanda made sure to keep you steady, bringing you to the edge another time, and another… and another.

By the end of it, you laid back against her, holding you up completely as your legs have given out. Your eyes were heavy, threatening to close as Wanda soothed out your dress with one hand, kissing you softly down your neck again, this time over the prettiest purple bruises that littered all over your skin. Her lips were warm, soft, and settling as she kissed you. She took in the sight of you with her eyes locked onto you through the mirror; you had your eyes closed, heavily exhaling, hair ruffled and messy, and yet, you looked like the prettiest mess ever. Her pretty girl.

“You’re so perfect,” Wanda whispered lovingly into your ear, her breath ticking your skin. “I don’t like having to fight for your attention.”

The way she said that last sentence was kind of sad, in the way that it hurt her feelings, and you could only hum in response as you slowly but surely regained your composure, shifting slightly in Wanda’s arms. You always knew Wanda was the jealous type, maybe overly jealous, but you found it endearing how she endlessly chased after you, how she still wanted you after tonight.

“You really don’t even have to, Wanda,” you tell her softly, trying to stand upright, wobbling slightly as you did so, to turn and cup her face with your hands. “You know everything I do is so that you can keep your eyes on me.”

“It works every time.”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to her lips, melting when she smiled into it, “That’s why I do it.”

Wanda took a moment to look at you after you pulled away from her lips. Your lipstick was smudged, spreading slightly down under your bottom lip sexily, making Wanda want nothing more than to kiss you again. And nothing was stopping her, so she did. She was happy, finally being able to have you like she had always wanted and knowing the fact that when you walk out of this bathroom, everyone will see all the marks and bruises Wanda left on you. Because of it, she felt a surge of satisfaction as she pulled you close, determined to show everyone outside just who you belonged to.

That way no one would even dare to try to take her woman again tonight, reminding them that you were hers, and hers alone.

— navigation!

[fxndxm-axg]

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

MODERN AU Arthur Morgan NSFW Headcanon’s

(GN!POV, mostly)

I thought I’d do Low!Honor next, but I got inspired and did MAU because oh my god would he be the perfect lover in this godforsaken hellscape that is dating and sex nowadays. I also renamed this post to NSFW instead of “sex” so if can reach more aspects of the sexual experience outside of just oral/anal/penetrative sex, etc. Also isn't it crazy just how realistic this photo I took of Arthur is holy shit-

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Doesn’t watch porn often nor as the hankering to. But in those really lonely moments, especially after a long, stressful day at work (definitely some blue-collar job), he knows masturbating is a decent source to help relieve some of his stress. His preference of porn is relatively simple, opting for soft core genres, not enjoying the roughness imposed upon especially women in the videos. His favorites genres include POV cowgirl-position videos for immersion, amateur lesbian as he appreciates the softness many of the women have towards one another, and mutual masturbation. He does feel ashamed after watching porn, though, wondering how he’d stoop so low to his own desire to do something so “silly.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Does not and will not send nudes unless in a long term, committed relationship. The first time his lover asked for some, he was staunch in his disapproval for them, as he can’t find any enjoyment in looking at his own body for long, ramping up his insecurities. But after so long, he came around to the idea to please them, needing his lover to send them first in order to get hard- which he does relatively quickly. They’re usually faceless, sometimes not even shirtless, but god does he grunt and stroke himself hard and good in those video swaps. Phone sex is definitely on the table though- if he’s worked up enough anyways, those filthy words just flow out of him. Arthur’s more than fine imagining his lover across the line doing exactly what he tells them. (“Yeah, bet you miss me so much. Miss this cock buryin’ deep in your hole… Louder, baby, let me hear you touch yourself. You sound so pretty moanin’ for me.~”)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Definitely didn’t care for using toys on his lovers in his youth. His ego only allowed himself to be the one to get them off. But as he grew older, and became more informed and sometimes even lectured by lovers, he became more open to them. But now, he revels in how easily they can help his lover get off, using them both for and against them. As a simple service top, adhering to their wants, he’ll use the toy against or in their sex (“Bet that feels good, huh?,” “You want it stronger, darlin’?,” “Is it too much, heh, ‘cuz you’re squirmin’…~”). Also uses the sex toys while taking a dominant lead, chuckling and teasing at how worked up they his lover gets while being edged and/or overstimulated by him, finding drunk from of it (“C’mon, ‘ya can hold on a bit longer, don’t cum yet, sweetheart~,” “I’m not lettin’ ‘ya up ‘til you’re screamin’…”).

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Often shoots down their partner’s refusals to sex on account of them not being shaved. Snorts, and waves off their words, pulling them close by the waist as he says, “Darlin’, I’m a grown man. A lil’ hair ain’t gonna bother me.” He truly will take his lover in any state, if he’s so horny enough.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Will always use a condom. The fear of pregnancy and STDs permeates his mind before and sometimes in the middle of any sexual encounter. If he has any sort of fear that he came in a female, especially if the condom breaks, Arthur has no qualms in buying them a Plan B, pregnancy tests, and checking up with them through the scare. (It’s always negative.)

I hope y’all enjoyed these! I can go on and on about the shit I’ve done in MAU roleplays with this man, but I’d rather not embarrass myself too much. Yes pegging him was so so fun though omg

[haifoct]

Xiao Zhuo, Li Lun, and Ying Lei adventures at Tianxiang Pavilion incoherent ramblings.

Anyways, I was rewatching FoF (as one does), and episode 21 — on a rewatch, when you know damn well Li Lun is possessing Bai Jiu's body — is hands down one of the funniest, pure comedy gold episodes that the series has to offer.

It's almost offensive how blatant they were about Bai Jiu being Li Lun here. Fashionista Li Lun woke up, and decided he's not going out in those EW clothes smelling of his cousins herbs. That vomit of every colour out there and a nest for hair are NOT sexy. All white for a dignified gentleman like himself.

They point out the change in his outfit, and we don't question it because Li Lun (despite people here claiming he doesn't understand humans) knows it would be a big deal for a teenage boy to visit a place like Tianxiang Pavilion. Dressing more maturely feels natural, and Li Lun gets to slay in all white yet again.

Li Lun: Must change. Li Lun: No one will notice. They will think this loser is excited, good plan.

Li Lun's face is priceless here. There are only two options: either Li Lun seeps through and is genuinely offended that this baby mountain god he remembers acts like this ("why crave attention from human? disgusting. ZHUO YICHEN LOOK AT ME"), or he understands the affections Bai Jiu holds for Xiao Zhuo-ge, acting his ass off even when no one is looking.

I like the first option as an explanation, because Li Lun DOES seep through quite often in this episode.

It looks fun, he said, like a fucking IDIOT.

"Oh shit."

"Shit. Did Zhuo Yichen notice? Shit shit shit shit."

And he continued to fuck up. Those were small details, but I genuinely couldn't stop laughing at his loser ass.

He tugged Xiao Zhuo's bells too hard, actually tugged Yichen back. His movements are harsher, stronger than Bai Jiu's. Bai Jiu tugs at Xiao Zhuo's sleeve or bells gently, and when it is in fact hard, it's usually Yichen trying to walk and Bai Jiu staying behind.

"FUCK. I tugged too hard." LI LUN, YOU DORK.

He tugged so hard Yichen's ribbon came undone. "I fix this. It will be alright it's part of my plan."

Unfortunately, ribbon does not stay put anymore.

Li Lun's honest reaction to this turn of events. No control over his face or strength whatsoever.

Ying Lei and Li Lun's moments have a very special place in my heart. They bounce off each other so nicely, and you can absolutely tell that Li Lun was having fun.

His shit eating grin. Sometimes I wonder if this is what Li Lun did when he was a baby.

Zhu Yan: Let's see human world! Li Lun: sure! Zhu Yan: Yaaaaay! Li Lun: Yaaaaaay! Zhu Yan, at the gates to the human world, turning to his bestie: Li Lun, this so exciting — Li Lun? Li Lun! Li Lun, back at Kunlun: snoozes, sunbathing.

Li Lun entered the pavilion as we know it, and saved his Ge, not forgetting to be a massive dork about it.

He once again pulled Xiao Zhuo real hard. Yichen went WOOOOOSH.

Well saved, Li Lun! Unfortunately, his precious Ge scolds him, but not without remembering to thank Li Lun for his hard work first.

I know for a fact that this was Li Lun seeping through yet again. "If it weren't for me, Zhuo Yichen!"

Yichen was utterly hilarious in that moment too. He took a moment to catch his breath, like being touched by a bunch of women was the worst nightmare he'd ever experienced. He's finally free, the worst day of his life. They're comedic duo we deserve, I will never shut up.

And I LOVE that Li Lun never forgets to hold his Ge by the...well, he does forget that he’s supposed to hold him by the bells, not Yichen’s fucking belt.

Xiao Zhuo: What the — ? Bai Jiu usually holds the bell, why is he holding the belt? *confused Zhuo Yichen noises*

Li Lun is such a DORK. They share one braincell for the three of them. One braincell dream team.

Previously, everyone ignored Ying Lei's attempts to high-five his friends, and isn’t it the cutest that Li Lun was the one to give him a high five? Although he was surely shocked to experience friendship: "*GASP* a high five from a friend?"

Well done, Li Lun! Thank you for your service, you little dork. I will never stop calling him that.

I just love the three of them together so much. It makes me happy that Li Lun got to experience what real friendship feels like, and these two were the perfect candidates to show him the light and welcome him into their home.

This episode is my comfort place now, a better world where they get to be friends and form a perfect one braincell dream team.

[lizziesribbons]

wedding wanda please!! she’d just fall in love w u all over again and then the night of ur wedding she just goes feral and calling u “my wife” “all mine” and she just gets super possessive and proud that u are now hers !!!

I Do |

PAIRING: WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEM! READER

summary: Wanda and you get married and then then Wanda goes all soft and fuckes you in your wedding dress ahhh

warnings: ****MINORS DNI***** *****MEN DNI***** fluff so much fluff 🥺 I'm going so aahwhwhwh, smut, praise ALOT OF PRAISE AHHH, name calling (Wanda calling you my wife, my love, princess, doll) I sobbed I wanna have soft sex with Wanda so bad I just know she will be the most gentle.

author's note: just reminding you guys that my first language is not English so if there's any grammatical errors PLEASE IGNORE THEM AND MOVE TF ON. Also I have no idea how weddings work so I did what I did

Word count: 2.1k

_______________________________________________________________________________

standing in your bridal gown, looking outside, and seeing Wanda standing there waiting for you, it was like a dream come true you've been waiting months for this day and now it was finally here. It seemed like everything around you just stopped. You could see nothing else but Wanda. In a white wedding gown, soon to be your wife. YOUR WIFE.

your dad came from behind holding your arm, breaking you from your gazing he said "Are you ready to go down the aisle sweetheart?" you took a deep breath and nodded as you both started walking.

as you walk down the aisle everyone cheers, "You are in Love" by Taylor Swift playing faintly in the background as you looked at Wanda and saw your whole world right there and then. It was like you were born to live this day and day alone. Everything seemed perfect everything made sense now.

Wanda looked at you and smiled. She smiled so hard that her cheeks started hurting. Tears in her eyes she saw you as you stood there in front of her, she wanted to kiss you so badly.

Clint was the one leading the wedding because Wanda insisted as he was the closest father figure to her and she loved him so dearly. "Wanda and y/n my two beautiful friends and my family members. I have known y/n ever since she was a little girl, she was always so compassionate and funny" he pauses and light laugh "So funny actually. She was always goofing around and her jokes oh my God I cannot forget them she was always joking about something or someone she would make me laugh in the darkest of times" he paused again looked at you and smiled. "let me tell you, guys, something, one time when y/n was wearing a pillow on her head as a wedding veil came up to me, she was only five at time. and asked me "Uncle Clint!!!! do I look good???" and gave me a twirl and haha I said "ofc you do sweetheart, who's your groom?" and she looked at me and rolled her eyes "Silly I don't have a groom I'm marrying my doll cause I love her the most" and then she forced me by giving me those pretty pleading eyes that still work to this day to come to her wedding and I went and now here I am standing in between y/n and Wanda at their actual wedding" with now tears in his eyes he looked at Wanda

"Wanda.. Oh, I've known Wanda for more than 10 years now I saw her grow up into this powerful beautiful woman she is now, I remember when she came up to me asking me if she should ask y/n out I told her whatever was in her heart she should just put it out, I saw there relationship grow stronger and stronger each day. They are the most for each other as one could be, I remember when Wanda asked me how she should propose to y/n I told her the same thing again that she should do whatever is in her heart, Wanda my pretty Wanda I love you and I'm so proud of you for the women you have become, my heart breaks into millions when I think about how both of you are not so little anymore but it screams in joy when I see you two together so in love with each other." that was it he stopped talking, he was softly sobbing now so are many of our friends and family members.

He speaks again after some silence clearing his throat, "We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of Wanda Maximoff and Y/n Y/l/n We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends"

He turned to Wanda and said "Repeat after me.

I, Wanda take you, Y/n, to be my wife. I promise that from this day forward I will regard you not only as my equal, but as my closest friend. I promise to comfort you in sickness and in health. I promise to demonstrate my commitment to you through love, laughter, and compassion. I love you." and as Wanda did he looked at you next and said "Repeat after me.

I, Y/n take you, Wanda, to be my wife. I promise that from this day forward I will regard you not only as my equal, but as my closest friend. I promise to comfort you in sickness and in health. I promise to demonstrate my commitment to you through love, laughter, and compassion. I love you." "It's time for the vows," he says softly

You begin first "Wanda, darling, for so long, I wondered if I would ever find my love, my soulmate. Then four years ago, at another wedding, I turned to a friend for comfort, and instead, I found everything that I’d ever been looking for my whole life. And now, here we are, with our future before us, and I only want to spend it with you – my love, my soulmate, my friend… Unless you don’t want to.”

Wanda started tearing up but holding her composure she began, "Y/n, I thought this was going to be the most difficult thing I ever had to do. But when I saw you walking down that aisle, I realized how simple it was. I love you. Any surprises that come our way, it’s ok, because I will always love you. You were the person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with."

(An: these vows are definitely not stolen from friends)

"just to be sure" he laughs "Do each of you take the other to be your lawful wedded spouse?”

Wanda and you say together with eagerness "I do".

After exchanging the rings he speaks again,

"By the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss" and took a step back as Wanda eagerly came forward and kissed me softly and whispered "oh I've been waiting all day for this" making you laugh and tear up.

"Ladies and Gentleman, for those of you who have come to witness this union, it is my pleasure to present the newly united couple, Y/N and WANDA Maximoff."

there's that. you and Wanda were married. Actually married. the rest of the evening went great everyone danced laughed cried.

____________________________________________________________

(wedding night)

Your flight was tomorrow in evening so you and Wanda had the whole night to yourself, as you sat there on the bed taking off your jewelry Wanda came from the back rubbing your shoulders you instantly relaxed in her touch

She bent down so she could whisper in your ear softly "I want to fuck you in this dress" You could hear the smirk on her face, and as you hesitantly looked at her she immediately knew what you meant "I promise I'll be gentle no damage would be done to that dress" Wanda knew how much you loved that dress so she wouldn't dare ruining it

"I bought this just for tonight," she says holding a Scarlett strap out in her hand, it was just perfect not too big or too small

"lay down" she whispers in your ear and you did, she folds your dress to your waist and takes off your underwear Wanda was only in her undergarments she took them off and fastened the harness around her as she stood between your legs she caressed your legs and align the strap to your opening slowly entering you while maintaining eye contact as she watched your face confronted in pleasure, only light moans coming out of your mouth

you underestimated the size, it wasn't too thick but it was long. When Wanda was fully in she gave you a moment to get used to the strap

Her fingers entwined with yours, your foreheads touching lightly she thrusts inside you, slowly but hard, every thrusting was pulling a moan out of you as Wanda gasped in your ear throwing praises here and there

"you're doing so good princess"

"my pretty wife"

"oh baby you look so pretty like that"

she didn't stop the praises her thrusts only speeding up, not too fast just perfect sending you into ecstasy, her strap hit your g spot in every thrust "Wanda I'm cumming!!" without warning you came all over her strap.

"Can you give me one more doll? please?" looking at her pleading eyes you weakly nodded as Wanda gently fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your neck so softly she said "My wife only mine" She gasps her orgasm reaching her soon "All mine! cum with me baby," she says as she let out a moan collapsing over you, making sure not to put all her weight on you, you came soon after.

As you both came down from your high Wanda tried to get up but your arms stopped her "Noo please don't go" she cupped your face and said "I'll just be a minute princess" She got and undid the harness and threw it down, took your dress off softly and cleaned you up and herself

"here take some water baby" She gave you and glass of water and you drank as she took the wedding dress to the closet, peaking her head out from the closet she asked, "do you wanna sleep with clothes on or off doll?" "off please" you replied softly yawning

Wanda nodded and got out of the closet, as you made someplace in the bed for her she got under the cover immediately holding you, you lay your head on her chest clutching her like a koala

Wanda started caressing your back "Goodnight my beautiful wife", you smiled and muttered something out hoping Wanda would understand.

And she did. She always does.

[starblushh]

“What I've learned from women who are totally killing it”

Part 2

(part 1)

☁️ The secret to be the luckiest person in the room is to always think in your favour, no matter the circumstance is.

☁️ A daily routine actually makes your day easier. But the key is to have one which resonates with you.

☁️ Stop blindly following routines you see on the internet; they don't even resonate with you. Ex: Maybe you're not a gym person, but you're half heartedly going to the gym just bc of xyz routine. Instead, try to find what you actually like, such as yoga or exercises.

☁️ Never apologize for things which gives you joy and is literally hurting nobody. Trust me honey you don't wanna be 70 and live your life regretting things you could have loved and enjoyed but didn't. So go stream your ‘not so cool’ artist and enjoy that ‘boring’ hobby.

☁️ The happiness you're searching outside is within you. You will never ‘arrive’ to happiness, it's in the small things you do.

☁️ Music or the songs you listen to can actually affect how you feel all day ! When I started listening to songs with affirmations, I found myself humming those songs again and again. Similarly, when I listened to sad songs I found the same thing. Your subconscious believes what it's hearing, so be mindful of the music you listen to.

☁️ Honey, you're punishing your body if you're only using water and soap/body wash while bathing. Your body deserves to be properly cleaned and these aren't enough to remove the dead skin cells. All you need to do is use an exfoliating tool such as a washcloth, body sponge, loofah, etc. If you don't have access to these right now, then even a simple cotton napkin will work.

☁️ If you're religious and want to have stronger connection with God then the best way you can do it is by reading your religious scriptures. Whether it's the Gita, Bible or Quran, it will provide you with more knowledge than anyone else can.

☁️ “The fears we don't face become our limits” I spent a whole minute reading this quote again and again. One of the most moving quotes I've came across for sure. (I can make a whole post with all my fav quotes too!)

☁️ ‘Nature is women's best friend.’ Take some time out of your day to spend time in nature. Feeling anxious? Take a walk in the garden. Feeling like the world is cruel and everyone is against you? Go hug a tree. Trust me sweetheart, nature has the solutions to all your problems.

[genderqueerdykes]

i feel like the recent wave of feminism is so terfy, whether it is unintentionally or not. i have many friends sharing those shitty takes to their accounts and calling men names like "moids", "nem". despite my many attempts to tell them, directly or subtly, they seem like just nodded at the moment i told them and then forgot it the next day. most of them are queers. and thats the ironic part. not to mention that one time where one of my close acquaintances share a post with "y chromosomes will disappeared after 2 million years" with the caption "oh god i hope so" even when they knew i was a trans man. or something like "if men can get pregnant they will have free healthcare" wtf trans men have been for so long and they don't receive shit?

"terfs dni" on bio then you parrot exactly what they said like ok i get it if i was not existed some of them will become full blown terf

im glad you sent this because on god yes, certain queer people are literally just proud to be terfs and rad fems right now. like it's straight up just happening, it's not speculative. at this point we have to call a cigar a cigar and talk about how people are quite literally just *proud* to be transphobes and engage in political lesbianism and intersexism openly and freely. like people are just actually proud to be this way right now

i get so many random asks called me a moid it's unreal LMAO the thing is, it's intended to be used against trans women and fems to misgender us as men, it's short for "femoid", but if people are also just straight up using it against actual men, then wow, people are just literally showing that they're a terf on their sleeve. like y'all, nobody uses the slur "moid" but literal terfs. they're the ones that coined it. why are you proud to use their language

i understand that terf indoctrination is very aggressive, and that terfs target disenfranchised people who have very, very low self esteem and get their sense of self worth from bullying and belittling other people. but the amount of people who are basically bragging about belonging to this edgy cult of violent misogynists is baffling. i don't know why people are so blind to the fact that rad feminists are literally violent misogynsts. nobody hates women more than terfs.

terfs think women are stupid, clueless, defenseless, and powerless. terfs believe that women can't defend themselves. terfs believe that men are inherently stronger than women and women aren't capable of fighting off men. terfs think that women are pathetic and weak. terfs think that women can't be strong or assertive. terfs think that it's impossible for women to hold a position of power in any situation, even over their own children. terfs believe that if you've ever been abused by a woman, it's your fault, because that woman is traumatized and is just "trying to cope with patriarchy". terfs believe the cycle of abuse is your fault, and that women can never be held accountable for being violent and abusive, because "women can't hurt people".

nobody hates women more than a rad fem.

like political lesbianism, the core of terf and rad feminist beliefs, literally walks us back a century in terms of queer progression and acceptance. the idea that only cis women are safe to be around, the idea that cis women can only be abused by society and never perpetuate abuse, the idea that trans people are a threat to lesbianism, the idea that trans people are a threat at all period... why do you want to become your conservative parents so bad? why do you desperately want to become your extremely conservative queerphobic grandparents who would've beaten the shit out of you for being queer?

sucking up to the right won't make them like you better. sucking up to these people won't make you "normal lesbians". that's the thing, people seem to secretly think man hating terfs are "the real lesbians" and everyone else is an invader. like people think the default, "normal" lesbian is a violent man hater. they think that's what "real lesbianism" is and it's disgusting. like that has nothing to do with lesbianism, y'all, it's all gender politics. don't ever listen to a terf or rad fem talk about lesbianism. they're not lesbians, they just want a "safe girls only club". that has nothing to do with being a dyke

anyway, thank you for sending this. i agree with you. and it really makes me quirk an eyebrow when people say "terfs dni" and then spend literally hours shitting on trans men, talking about how we're invading xyz spaces... hey, uh, trans men are trans, too. you're support to care about trans men. yeah, especially if you're a lesbian. like. you're supposed to support all trans people here, you don't just get to pick and choose which trans people you """support""", here.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Man overboard!”

Annabeth does, in fact, understand that such a cry warrants hastiness. Hurry, even.

“Man overboard! Man overboard!”

Most men, after all, cannot swim, and if the whispers are to be believed then this particular man is not even conscious to try. He is no doubt in peril, and the Fates have a stronger hold on his thread with every passing moment.

“Make way! Man overboard!”

If she is jostled one more time, however.

“Man overboard! Lower the ladder, man overboard!”

Should even one more crew yank her back away from the walls of the ship, patting her on the arm as they shove her ‘somewhere more befitting for such a finely dressed lady’.

“Hook it around him, for the gods’ sake, man overboard!”

There are going to be several more men joining him.

“Clear a path! Clear a path!”

She makes it, finally, to the rail unimpeded enough to lean over and see the man who, she has heard, has fallen overboard. He clings like dark-haired Danaë on the waterlogged hope of a wine barrel, bare back burned from the sun, nose nearly dragging along the friendly swirling waves. His dignity is covered, barely, by a torn, bloodstained cloth, and his tanned skin is crisscrossed with raised white scars.

He is handsome.

She stumbles back from the hull, face burning. And absurd thought to have. She seeks out deliberately a close-cropped head of blond hair, smiling tersely when Captain Grace meets her eyes, offering her a nod.

“Straight line,” she murmurs to herself, pulling back her shoulders.

She gives the men plenty of distance as they haul the downed sailor up from the depths. It irks her, really, to be following their orders, but to help or to offer it would mean more of the jostling, the pushing. More grimey hands irreparably staining the fine silk of the new dress Mother had sent her with.

It takes the crew an embarrassingly long time to haul the man up, even though Annabeth can see, as one of the bulkier men wraps a limp arm around his shoulders, that he is slight. He has the shoulders of a swimmer and the leanness of a scavenger, but his frame is small. In fact she is almost sure that upright, they would stand shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps an inch on his part, nothing more.

She realises, with a start, that the crew is staring at her, and forces her second blush of the day back from whence it came. She meets the expectant states with a tilted chin and hard eyes, drawing her skirts and clicking her heels against the groaning deck.

“What,” she snaps.

“He’s unconscious, my lady.”

“So? Place him out of the sun, have someone monitor him.”

The crewman supporting the unconscious man — truly, Annabeth needs to learn these men’s names; it would be easier if any of them spoke to her at any time other than to ask if the sun was making her feel faint — shifts from foot to foot.

Well.

Foot to peg.

“Yes,” he says eventually. He makes some sort of vague gesture with his hand, stepping forward. “Er — our thoughts exactly, my lady.”

Still, no one moves. The unconscious man’s head lolls, pitching his whole weight forward. Another sailor lunges forward to catch him, readjusting him so he’s steady.

Still, no one moves.

Annabeth shifts to face her betrothed. He winces under her sharp look, hand coming up to run the back of his neck.

“He may fare best under your care,” Captain Grace says hesitantly. “The bunks are unfit for someone in his condition. And my men can be…rough.”

“Choose your words carefully, Jason,” she warns.

Grimacing, Captain Grace plows on. “I mean no offense, my lady. We have no other women on the ship. Your cabin is cool and sheltered and I know you enjoy those weaving projects in idle time. He will not require much more than an eye to ensure he does not pass in his sleep. I can think of no one more capable to watch over him.”

The doctor, for starters, Annabeth thinks. Drunk as he is, the sickly rescue should be his charge; nursing him should be his task.

The crew doesn’t even glance at him, though. He stands happily to the side, red-faced and cross-eyed, bottle dribbling from his trouser pockets, and Annabeth fights the urge to bare her teeth.

“Whatever you believe is best, Captain,” she grits out. She glares at the crew, pausing on each man until he squirms under her gaze. “Do not leave him to soak my sheets.”

They leave him, instead, sprawled on the wooden floorboards.

Annabeth scowls.

A four week journey, her mother had told her. Barely a month at sea, with plenty of stops on the islands dotting the paths and a stack of journals for her research. Captain Grace’s vessel is exceptionally well-stocked and custom built by the brightest of his father’s engineers; so smoothly is it claimed to flow through the water that all aboard her will scarcely feel even the roughest rock of the waves.

A sharp veer to the side has Annabeth stumbling, nearly crushing herself under the man’s dead weight.

“Smooth,” she grumbles to herself, huffing as she drags him back upright. His skin is alarmingly cool from the bite of the water, and still slick. It takes her four tries to force his arm back over her shoulder, slippery as it is. “Top model, they say. Well, what a purse of lies that is. I could design a better ship in my —” she huffs, yanking him the last few feet towards her bed — “sleep.”

She could be more gentle with him, she supposes. If his head or spine is injured then her rough handling will doom him. But, well, penny, pound, et cetera. If he has a head injury and the waves haven’t killed him, her light tossing won’t, either.

Probably.

She deposits him on top of her quilt and then stands at the foot of her bed, hands on her hips, toes tapping. She tilts her head slightly to the right. Narrowing her eyes, she tilts it to the right. She wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes.

She can’t be faulted for her earlier thoughts, she decides.

He has a strange kind of charm to him. The same magnetism present in the performers of her mother’s court; men and women who gather in bright clothing and perform tricks and tease the audience, riding the thin line between furious huffing and uproarious laughter. Troublemakers, with enough skill to balance the line. Thin, twitching fingers and smile lines in the corner of his eyes, thick but maintained brows and dramatically bowed lips.

With a sound so great it rivals the billowing coal engines down billow, the man snores, trail of saliva trickling down his chin.

How revolting. Annabeth finds her lips twitching upwards and resets them deliberately into a graceful line.

Yes, he is the alluring kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of thief, or a cast-out stowaway. A wisecracker who pushed the envelope an inch too far.

She stalks over to the windowed wall of her tiny cabin, wrestling it open. The immediate relief of the sea breeze has her gasping, resisting the urge to stick her head out and bask in the cool air. That would be undignified, even if her room as become unbearably stifling with the presence of another person in it.

Gods, she is lonely.

She had hoped at least to have one of her ladies accompanying her. It would have been a little more bearable, the company, cramped as her cabin would be. On this ship now she is bored nearly to tears from sunup to sundown every day, barred from even the most menial of tasks that could upset her delicate womanliness and bereft of even a child to argue with. The crew tiptoes around her like she may crack to fine shards should they so much as offer her more than a fine morning, my lady, or the sun suits you quite beautifully, did you know, and Captain Grace loves nothing more than extended silences. In all honesty she only gets to talk to the ship’s mechanic, who, vulgar as he is, at least talks to her as he would anyone else on the ship. Sure, she can only stand so much of him at a time, and he’s been banned from breathing in her direction since the very first day of their expedition, but if she happens to be in the ship’s engine room as the same time as he is, then it would simply be impolite to ignore her.

Not that Valdez cares much for rules. Or her preferences.

Desperate times, et cetera, et cetera.

Knowing the deck will be too crowded for her to slip down below unnoticed, she settles down onto the old, rickety corner-desk with a sigh, cracking open her journal. Except for a string of blotty doodles along the edges, the paper is devoid of anything, as barren and numb as her mind feels. She understands, dramatic as it is, why so many sailors return from their voyages mad; why pirates and navies alike sail with crews. Even a day on the empty, open ocean without someone to talk to is maddening. She feels as if words flee from her vocabulary with every minute she doesn’t use them. What is there to do, on this stupid boat, besides sleep and eat and mope? She wishes she was allowed to steer the vessel, or watch from the nest. Not stimulating jobs, true, but jobs, at least. She has not sunk so low as to long for a deck-scrubber, but she is dangerously close. She can feel it. Another week at sea without much more than a loom and a needle and her mind will leap into the waves, she’s sure, abandoning her to the dull tedium of the stagnant clouds. The knowledge that she has three weeks left until they reach Lord Dyeus’ kingdom could make her break down into weeping, should she dwell on it long enough. By the time she returns to civilization she may no longer be suited for it.

A rustle sounds behind her, followed by a cut-off snort.

“…Somehow, I don’t think I’m at sea anymore.”

Annabeth yelps, nearly falling right off her chair. She scrambles upright, or tries to, but her stupid petticoats get caught up around her ankles and nearly send her toppling again, this time with even less of her dignity. It is only with sheer force of will that she manages to force her spine straight and upright in perfect time to meet the most gorgeous, sea green eyes she has ever seen.

“You drool when you sleep,” she informs him, darkly satisfied when the amused twinkle fades from his eyes in favour of a flat glare, hand coming up to swipe at his chin.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am,” he mutters as the minutes stretch on.

Annabeth snaps her gaze back up to his face, wishing desperately her cabin had a second window.

“Captain Grace’s ship.” She swallows stiffly, collarbone suddenly itchy. “On route to the Kingdom of Lightning.”

The man’s face pales, long, calloused fingers twitching into fists.

“The ship carrying Princess Annabeth?”

Her mouth dries even further. “…Yes.”

“Someone needs to summon her, quickly. I have news. I — I come from Pirate Jackson’s ship — they threw me off board to drown.”

She knows, immediately, why he tells her this. Why his eyes go round with desperation, why his hands twist, why he has developed a sudden, scrutinizing interest in the view of the sea from outside her window, throat bobbing with every heavy suggestion.

But all hypotheses must be tested.

“Why?”

He meets her gaze, green eyes an exact mirror of the roiling sea around them; layered, stormy, and deeper than the darkest of trenches, wider than the night sky.

“Because they want to know her location. And I refused to give it up.”

———

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