#and that woman is on such a different level of obsession and I love her so much for it

[larphis]

As an adhd person I just want to say that I love every autistic person on this website.

You guys are literally the best fandom archivers out there. I’m so serious.

If you are new in just about any fandom search for the one autistic person whose special interest your newfound fandom is and it’ll be like you just met god at a nightclub.

You guys are too powerful and I thank you for your service from the bottom of my heart.

[adviceformefromme]

YOUR RE-SET PART 2

Part one is here for reference.

Once you start removing all the shit from your life, they’ll be an empty space. You might not like this, but it really is an opportunity to start planting the seeds of your dreams, creating your dream life. Part 1 was clearing your garden, preparing the soil. Part 2, is actually planting the seeds. You've removed the weeds in your life, you’ve distanced yourself from the friends who bitch and moan, you also decided to create some space from the toxic relatives that remind you of the shame, and traumas from childhood. You started a little meditation and journalling practise, eating a little better, thinking kinder thoughts… but this is where you really start creating a magical life. This is your moment, no distractions, you are truly re-rewriting the script of your life. 

See it as a cross roads. Do you choose to go back to what you know, or do you spend the next four months of this year taking serious actions to become who you were destined to be? 

So how do you bring the vision boards to life? How do you truly re-set so that you finally shed the old skin of your past and become who you were designed to be?

1 - You need a vision. This needs to inspire and motivate you, so trade in one of your Netflix shows, or social media binges to create your vision. Screenshot images from Pinterest or wherever, add them into a keynote on your laptop, or use Canva, however you make your vision board let it be your absolute wildest dreams. If it's living in one of those houses from Architect Digest magazine in the middle of Norway, go find those images. If its being a badass CEO who makes eight figures, find an image that represents that. Add activities what your day is like, fashion inspo, locations, events, whatever you want your life to look like go create the vision. And make sure it inspires you. You want to feel that little fire in your belly when you look at it, if it’s not giving that energy, keep working on it till it does. Its really important you remind your self of this vision with affirmations as you look at it, ‘I am’, ‘I feel’, ‘I love’ use these power statements as you speak life as you go through each image e.g ‘I am living in my beautiful home on the coast of Spain, it feels so peaceful to wake up to the sunrise and hear the crashing waves as I look out from my balcony, I am so in love with my home, its represents who I truly am, I love my coffee table books (list them out).' Go on a rampage as you speak life into your vision board (do this as a consistent practise daily or weekly).

2 - Part of your re-set is looking the part. You will have a vision completely unique to you of what the dream version for you looks like, smells like, walks like, dresses like. Your goal is to get crystal clear on this and BRING HER TO LIFE. This will be done in steps, but literally start figuring out what you need to do in order to look the part. This might involve a different hair style. If you always dreamed of long hair but your hair is textured - go get a weave or hair extensions, if you are obsessed with those lamination brows and lashes, go figure out how you can look and feel as your dream girl. Stop using money as an excuse, if your hair is too expensive, find someone more affordable, or do it at home. If you can’t afford designers but see yourself living that life go buy a replica and FEEL the part until you can get there. This is about you looking and feeling like your best self, and it might seem unimportant but how you look affects how you feel and that physical glow up adds LEVELS of confidence to a woman. So start moving away from what you know, have known and step into your truth. Let go of the shame from family, friends. Stop living in their shadows, hiding from their opinions and judgements. This is your moment. 

3 - Create a routine of greatness. What does your day need to involve for you to show up as your best self? As you reflect you’ll see there are things that work and things that absolutely don’t work in your life and now is your moment is to start adjusting. This is for food, exercise, keeping your home clean, keeping organised. This is also about knowing yourself. For example, if you usually walk your dog in the morning but by the time you come home, you don’t have enough time to do your hair and make-up or eat a healthy breakfast - SHUFFLE your morning. This is about making life work for you. Not you working for life, working to survive, rushing everywhere. No, this is about your life, working to suit you best. So take inventory of what is not working and what is and start adapting. Another example. If you want to whiten your teeth and those strips are not working out for you because they feel horrible and you always forget. Go get a whitening powder you can brush on your teeth after you clean them, plus you brush your teeth everyday, so adding an extra step of brushing with the whitening powder at the sink is a much more effective routine that works for you. Do you get the message? Start re-adjusting your routine so there is more flow, and structure aligned with how you want to live.

4 - You need to fucking exercise. It doesn’t matter how you do it. Just make sure you do it. And exercise that is actually consistent and motivates you. This is your confidence booster, your discipline trainer, your toned body enabler, your energy replenisher, your anti-depressants, your anti-anxiety medication, your meditation, your self love. It’s all that and so much more. If you’re new to exercise start small, and progress. Keep those little promises to yourself and if your annoying friends want to see you, only meet them if they join you on a class which allows you to kill two birds with one stone. 

5 - Your passions. Remember those things. The things as a a child that used to bring you joy. Now you have all this free time since you stopped scrolling you can actually remember life before 4 hour binges on tiktok and Netflix. Go grab your skates, your paint brushes, your boombox, your knitting kit, your colouring pencils, your baking materials, your swimming goggles, your library card - whatever the fuck is your passion. GO POUR INTO THAT. Just once a week, even for an hour if that’s all you can manage, but focus on that. This is how you attract more of that positive energy into your life, you connect with your inner child, you soothe her and make her feel so wholesome. 

6 - KEEP REFLECTING, as you continue on this journey to becoming your best self, things will work, you’ll trip up a few times, you’ll learn so much about yourself but it's SO important to keep moving forward. For example if you realised you don’t like your social circle, but noticed you keep judging your friends - you are still swirling in low vibration, because that judgmental inner voice is still keeping you in the gutter. Your daily meditation practise, and reflecting would reveal this to you, and without noticing you are still staying stuck. The purpose of this whole re-set is to elevate yourself, your life and start living your dreams. So daily, weekly, as often as you can. Reflect. This worked, this didn’t, this is what I can do better next time, become your own fucking guru. Know thy self. Keep moving forward. Keep checking yourself.

...And remember know one gives a fuck about this journey you’re on, no one is rooting for you, no one cares if you literally remain the same person you’ve always been. This is truly on you. This is your opportunity to take major leap. To quit being the person who feels like she deserves a better life, who wants more. Now you get to actually BE more, live more. This is a transition. You’re moving out of the old shadows and into the light. This is your moment for change, so embrace it. Live it and keep pushing forward. 

[rafesgoldrings]

Okay so we got jealous Rafe…but what about jealous trophy wife reader. Let’s say an older woman, one Rafe’s age, starts stopping by the office because she’s thinking about doing business with him. She starts getting a little too friendly with him and it makes reader a little upset since she’s so much younger. One day the woman and Rafe go into his office for a private meeting and reader goes in and drops to her knees and starts sucking Rafe off so the lady gets the hint

OH MY GOD?? The gasp I just gusped (I also hit the text limit writing this and if that doesn’t say anything about the obsession I have with trophy wife reader and Rafe, I don’t know what will😭)

 You didn’t like her. Didn’t even have to speak to her to know that she was an insufferable cunt who was up to no good, the way she stared you down with that irritating smirk and gave Rafe fuck me eyes told you what you needed to know. Part of you was already insecure enough being with Rafe, he was older, smarter, and a hell of a lot more successful and experienced than you, now this stupid older woman, closer in both his age and success, was here making moves on him. You had no doubt he loves you for who you are, despite the age gap and success level differences, but that didn’t stop you from seeing red each time they spoke. You really did try to keep yourself collected in order for him to secure this business deal, he’d told you how important it was to the company and you weren’t trying to fuck that up for him. But when she walked into his office alone, him following shortly after, that was your final straw. You’d stormed towards his door, red bottoms that your husband bought you echoing prominently in the room, before opening it and storming inside not bothering to close the door behind you. “Baby? What are you doing here?” Rafe asked with a nervous chuckle, he was so close to securing the deal and getting rid of the woman before you’d stormed in. The man wasn’t an idiot, in all his years of being alive and working in the business he’d seen women just like her. The ones that would flirt and sleep their way into a deal, that’s why he’d always reject her and remind her he was a happily married man, it just didn’t deter her at all. You said nothing to him, just walked over in front of him and sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his business slacks before pulling his cock out and stroking it with your hand. You’d made it a point to exaggerate your wedding ring, all the diamonds shining brightly against the fluorescent lights above you. His hips would buck into your hand and you sent her a smirk from across the desk. A big look of ‘see how he responds to me. he’s mine, fucking back off’ loving the look of unease she gave you. Her jaw slightly clenched and breathing becoming increasingly more rapid as she grew more irritated. His hand instinctively flew to your hair and pulled it in a makeshift ponytail, moving your head so your mouth was lined up with his cock. You’d stick your tongue out and place it flat against his tip, slowly pushing more in until his cock was hitting the back of your throat before wrapping your lips around it and sucking. The small whimpers he was making mixed with the feeling of being watched made you more eager to keep going, hands moving to play with his balls and moaning around his cock like he loved you doing. Your fellow employees could easily see and hear everything, but nobody would say a word. You could have them fired within seconds if they dared, and they wouldn’t say a word to their boss knowing he could make their life hell, so they opted to mind their own business. The woman cleared her throat, alerting Rafe to her presence again, and raised her brows like she expected him to tell you to stop. To her surprise, he just mumbled a quick ‘sorry, where were we?’ you still on your knees sucking him off under the desk. Each time she’d speak to him, you sucked harder, squeezed his balls harder, so he’d let out a loud groan of your name and remind her of her place. The deal would quickly come to a close right as he came. Thick ropes of cum coating your tongue and throat, you kept sucking him dry. It wasn’t until he physically pulled you off that you stopped, turning your head to the side just in time to see her walk out of his office and shout “thanks for doing business with my husband! next time keep yourself in line yeah?” the taste of him still fresh on your tongue. He’d pull you up by your throat into a sloppy kiss. “That was so fucking hot baby, want to fuck you on my desk” he’d mumble on your lips, striding over to the door to close and lock it before returning to you, bending you in half over the desk and pushing your skirt up so that he could have his way with you

[wellofdean]

OK, I was going to reblog this excellent post by @luckshiptoshore so go read it, because yes. Yes!! YES!!! But then when I got started my post got super long and I felt bad tacking it onto her post and decided to make my own in response to these tags:

#i am actually a bit obsessed by the whole hunting as queerness metaphor#it’s so clearly something everyone involved in the show is thinking about#supernatural

Gurl, me too! Like go back to the start! By the time Supernatural began, the backlash against the Joseph Campbell Monomyth-style mode of storytelling had already begun in the hallowed halls of USC film school, and yo: I was there at the time of Kripke's graduation, and my best friends from college are full scale big giant time filmmakers now, whose names I will not share on main because it's uncool, and I don't want that attention, but... yeah. I am referencing FIRST HAND SOURCES on this.

But, for a real source? The Oxford English Dictionary places the first use of the term "Queer Theory" in 1990, with Queer Studies as an option in the academy by 1992. I know the kids think it's a new-fangled thing, but Kripke graduated USC in 1996 (I graduated in 1995) and it was ALL THE RAGE by then. My friends read queer theory in their Critical Studies courses in the Film School, I read it in the College of Humanities getting my degree in Literature. By that time, you could not get through that school with any degree in any non-STEM subject without knowing about ye olde postmodern lenses, queer and feminist theory, and without knowing how to employ those lenses.

Queer refers to sexuality, yes, but the word's earliest use (again, according to the OED) is in the 1500's, meaning: strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious.

So, ok, in 2005, Enter Supernatural, episode 1:

Presented? Two brothers. One actively seeking credit in the straight world that is not available to him in the bosom of his family: Stanford, law school, hot co-ed girlfriend, the other bound to his fractured, wounded family by duty, yes, but also by love, living on the fringe, alone, fighting monsters, and chasing after his father's approval, and who has long since given up any dream of being 'normal'. Episode 1 presents Sam's call to adventure, which he refuses when it's just familial duty, honor and love calling him, but accepts when the show takes a very straightforward and very telling path by classically fridging his woman. Ok, now he's on board. Like John, whose motivation is another dead woman, his motivation is revenge. So far so straight!

Dean though: he's different. He is already on the adventure and he was not 'called' or given the option of accepting or refusing because he had no agency when his feet were set upon this road. He does not fit the straight world at all, because he is cobbled together out of love, duty, deep guilt, striving, desperation and fear. This is who he is now, in some elemental, incontrovertible way. It was not a choice for him, he was born to it. His mother is dead, and we later learn, she made the choices that brought them all to this fate. Dean remembers her idyllically, but he is not motivated by revenge, more than any other thing, he wants to be worthy. He wants his father's approval, his brother's love.

Enter Supernatural's main theme: fucked up relationships between men enmeshed in patriarchy, which will eventually expand to include fucking GOD HIMSELF.

And like, there are SO MANY CLEAR STEPS ALONG THE ROAD in season one, and I am not even talking about sexuality and gender here, but there is SO MUCH TO SAY about it in season 1. But I am not talking about that -- I am talking at a structural, narrative level, the whole thing is just fucking all the way queered, yo.

The big climax?

At the end of the season, Dean says: "I just want my family back together. You, me, Dad... it's all I have." He is Sam's mother, John's partner! His vulnerability and emotion is feminized and contrasted with Sam and John's more overtly driven by their more masculine/straight heroic revenge quest. John: "Sam and I can get pretty obsessed, but you always take care of this family." Only that's not John talking, it's Azazel, and Dean knows it is because his father would never forgive how soft he is, how he will always choose love and family over revenge. Then, in the end, the show makes a huge point of telegraphing that Sam is finally aligning with Dean by refusing to shoot Azazel because he's possessing John, and Sam just can't do that to Dean.

Sam and Dean are thus bound together and cemented into a marginalised path, living on the road, haunting liminal spaces and cheap motels, confronting the monstrous everyday. Sam is presented as the brains of the operation, he does research, logics his way through things (masculine) while Dean is the heart who acts impulsively and on instinct and intuition (feminine).

It later transpires that Sam has a piece of the monster inside himself, and Dean has to learn to love the monstrous, he has no choice, because Sam is his brother and then Cas... and, and, and!

Like... I could go on and on, citing ENDLESS EXAMPLES. This could be a literal book. Maybe one you need to read with a magnifying glass like my condensed edition of the OED. LIke, the queerness of Supernatural is DIZZYING and MYRIAD.

But basically? FROM THE START, hunting is a queered version of family, and within that, Dean is a queered version of a Campbellian hero. Hunting is a metaphor for otherness and liminality, and that's even before you say a WORD about sex. It starts in deviation from the norms of family, masculinity and expands from there on so many levels both in story and on a meta level. The story is flesh on queer fucking bones.

I'm so sorry, but anyone who thinks queerness was not BAKED INTO Supernatural and more specifically into Dean from DAY 1 has clearly never seen Dean's insane lip gloss in season 1, and vastly underestimates the cultural awareness of people who write shit in Hollywood, and also the other people who put pink lip gloss on pretty boys in Hollywood. Nothing that gets on your screen wasn't a fucking choice made and approved by a LONG LIST of people who know what they are about.

[luvrsux]

“Obsession”

word count: 3.8k

summary: you started off as a bartender at some rundown club until a mafia group infiltrated your job unexpectedly but the leader himself grows quite keen to you

cw//tw: nsfw!! shooting, mentions of murder/killing, creampie, oral, praising, obsession

disclaimer: im in no way romantizating mafia/mafia gang organizations. this is for entertainment purposes only

On a rather lustful, midnight weekend, you were working as a waitress at a night men’s club, minding your own business serving customers while they gawked at the skimpy dancers on steel poles. The club was a rather expensive one, where people of riches and fortune could express it by merely breathing. Despite the town, your job paid you a terrible rate. You’ve grown to hate your job. Sure, security helped and protected the slim dancers on the poles with precision but it, unfortunately, didn’t apply for you. Your body would get catcalled and often groped unwontedly. You lost track of the number of bruises and nosebleeds you gave the disgusting men that lounged in your workplace.

You then heard a blood-curdling scream in front of the dimly lit building. The sheer amount of terror on the feminine shriek made your heart drop miles into the Earth’s core, watching a half-naked woman running out of the building flailing her arms before a bullet spiked straight there her skull.

Whatever beverage stood on your black tray immediately crashed into the carpeted floor upon watching the horrid scene. People pushed past you to escape the chance of ending up in the poor woman’s shoes. Your total shell-shocked state was the very reason you crashed onto the ground by the taller, broad bodies colliding with you. You winced in pain when your body landed in a not-so-comfortable position causing your ankle to sprain.

Before you knew it, the building attracted more corpses when the culprit watched the population pour out of the building. The person sure was trigger-happy. Tears swelled your eyes but you still managed to trace the figure of the man now holding a pistol.

“That’s enough, Yasopp” A voice, that was oddly soothing. Your heart pumped out of your chest once you eyed the man now approaching you. He had two other men sprout behind him like a plantation.

“What do we have here?”

He crouched to your level, analyzing your figure. You held your now unavailable foot, completely defenseless. Even if you tried to run, the man now named Yasopp would shoot you down with his eyes closed. You gulped.

“You’re cute” You saw a grin appear on his lips, as well as bright crimson hair. He had an index finger and thumb pull your chin up to his face. Pure terror overcame you.

“I know you hate this shitty job, love. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you an entirely new world”

Now here you are

It was a dark, midnight rainy night on Friday. The building you were being driven to was laying in only the most expensive city in the country. There were blinding lights all around, nearly suffocating your vision. The window tints only helped so much.

What made this specific Friday night so different was you were approaching the head of the Red-Haired Mafia group. This was a weekly thing, every night you’d be escorted in a rather ominous sleek, black limo quietly to his grand mansion for a quick “meeting”.

You wore a tight slim dress that provocatively opened at your chest. It barely reached the middle of your thighs, the hem that is. Your neck glistened with the jewels the boss kindly gifted you. The giant fur coat covering your shoulders was also a generous token from the redhead, making it especially sacred considering he delivered it to you not only in person but on your birthday. Your sugar-coated gifts were usually left at your door to avoid being detained by the federal authorities, so the coat was something you’d cherished.

You’ve grown attached to the boss and everyone knew you were his weekly fling. As you admired the bright lights springing past your tinted window, a slim glass of champagne in hand, you traced back to the very first time you met. Your first impression was pure terror, but as time passed when you realized this was now your life, you’ve gotten accustomed to it.

Shanks, the boss you were fucking every weekend and in an oddly intimate relationship with, did turn your life upside down. It gave you whiplash with how fast he bought you a new house, jewels, and prizes for simply existing in a way he appreciated. You wouldn’t praise the life you were currently living, but you definitely didn’t complain. If it weren’t for Shanks, you’d still be living in that run-down, rugged apartment and that hell of a job for as long as you can remember.

You knew Shanks would kill anyone who dared to wrong you, it’s happened before. Your “favorite” was when you were at a club with the man himself. He had an arm rest around the top of the cushioned seat, underneath being you sitting there pretty as ever. Your seating was in a secluded, VIP area where absolutely no one was allowed into. Of course, you and Shanks recklessly made love in the room several times before and everyone would know.

A random extra wanted to converse with Shanks himself, putting the passionate rough lovemaking on hold for now. To this day, you wondered how a guy can be so dumb as to blatantly hit on you in front of the man himself. Not wanting to get his hands bloody and off of you, he had one of his crew members suffocate the air out of his body in a blink of an eye.

“Get rid of the body, the lady doesn’t like it” Shanks immediately ordered once the body let out a croak. His mates nodded immediately, thus having the body leave your field of vision faster than a snap of the fingers. Shanks had his remaining hand cup the side of your face to turn to him.

“You only belong to me, and I’ll gladly get rid of anyone who decides to intervene, princess,” He said with a cold smile. His demeanor did something wrong to you, but it felt so terribly right. You appreciated the way Shanks’ heart had a rope tied around your own. You knew Shanks wasn’t lying, and he kept his word ever since, even before then.

Now, usually, Shanks would greet you in the limo inside to “prepare” you for what’s to come, not only simply sharing a few drinks. Upon getting into the seats and seeing his absence, you realized how much you longed for his presence.

Shanks - 12:34 PM

Sorry for not being there, princess. I have a few things to do first xx

Was the text Shanks left you a few moments before entering the fancy vehicle. You were growing antsy about meeting him as pure usual. He’s given you the best nights of your life for as long as you can remember being in his palms. Each week you’d only have your hopes set on Friday.

You finally arrived at your destined destination. You heard your chauffeur speak on his phone, alerting your “partner” about your sudden presence. You waited patiently for someone to open your door for you to waltz out elegantly. You’ve grown used to the prissy, princess treatment. You have been letting Shanks fuck your brain out for roughly a year and some change now.

“She’s here, boss” Is all you heard before the door swung open for you to flood out. Your heels make a firecracker sound upon impact once you stood up from your seat.

“You’re a doll, Roux” You cooed, receiving a pleased smile from the bigger guy that once escorted you to the grand building before you.

You approached the front steps, passing by the grand fountain in front that spurted water in several directions—a rather perfect centerpiece for the mansion. You eyed the security guard up front.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“On his way, ma’am”

“Always keeping me waiting…”

You grumbled, stepping foot on the steps. Your stiletto heels hadn’t stopped making that fire-cracking pop sound with every preppy step. You finally gazed upon a toned, broad body appearing in front. His draped trench coat draped over his body while he wore a loose white button-up and black slacks to match. He had a pleased grin at your mere presence. The redhead snaked his hand to grab yours, placing his lips on the surface of your hand. You felt his stubble tickle your skin, making you giggle.

“I missed you, princess” He cooed, pulling you close to his body.

Shanks wrapped a prideful arm around your shoulders, the fuzziness of your expensive coat tickling his veiny, toned arm. You smiled happily.

“You say that every time, dear”

“How could I not?” You felt Shanks breathe and caress your neck through the fluff. A chill slithered down your spine.

“You always make me feel good~”

You felt his eager lips collide with your own. He proudly smudged your glossed lips when the two lips synced together passionately. Shanks didn’t care if he was in the middle of the massive foyer, he thrived nothing more than publicly proving to everyone you belonged to him—and him only.

Your arms latched around his neck, only making his hands grope the fats of your ass through your slick, black dress. Your lips parted ever so slightly, giving the eager crimson-haired man to slither his tongue to dance with your own. At this point, you two were heavily breathing in each other's mouths. You clearly longed for his touch, and it didn’t help that Shanks reciprocated that same feeling. You felt his lips detach from yours, leaving a slight feeling of disappointment lingering in your body.

“Let me take you to my office, doll” He smiled. You felt arms bring your body upward to latch around his torso. The sudden movement made a giggle escape your lips.

Shanks slammed your rear on his pricy, wooden desk that was scattered with files and papers of his targets—but who was paying attention to any of that? You two were going at it in each other's mouths, not parting to breathe for a single minute. Shanks's scarred hand tore off the fur that coated your body with ease, tossing it wherever in his office room.

You released a small moan once you felt his hands travel mindlessly around your body. His hands tugged down the hem of the dress that covered your chest. Your breasts poured out like a tsunami to Shanks's entertainment. A hungry hand latched onto it with force, letting yet another moan travel out your mouth.

“Fuck, princess…” Shanks breathed in your mouth from pure pleasure. His arm, without a single hesitation, cleaned everything laying on his desk to create space for your body all for his pleasure.

His thirsty lips traveled to your open neck, painting the entire canvas with bruised marks made by his mouth and teeth. Each mark made a whimper escape your now smudged lips. Your hand stroked through his crimson locks with each passing second he was on your neck.

“Lay down, baby” His voice was muffled by the marks he was mercilessly making on your body, recharging the ones that were beginning to fade from previous “meetings”.

Your back made contact with the now bare desk, fully aware of the consequences that’ll occur if you didn’t oblige. Shanks moved his hands to your lace to peel them off with complete ease. To no one’s surprise, your slit was already wet and ready for Shanks's body. He chuckled, always enjoying the view of your throbbing cunt before he completely tore through it.

Shanks didn’t even bother taking your dress off from the sheer anticipation coursing through his sadistic veins. He just crinkled it upward to make a better opening. Your head was thrown back when Shanks grabbed your thighs to lay on his broad shoulders.

All you felt was a moist tongue graze along your lips and sensitive bud with one swipe and the slight sensation of stubble. Your long moan made Shanks chuckle, sending vibrations in your body.

Shanks went back into devouring your cunt while knowing exactly where your sensitive spots lay. His tongue made sure to explore each and every crevice like it was the last meal of his lifetime. The room was filled with your messy moans and the sounds of slush slurping by Shanks’ hungry mouth.

Shanks flicked his tongue over your bud, sending a mountain peak of pleasure through your core. You shrieked, suddenly feeling that tight knot begin to snap.

“Sh- aah aah~! Im about to cum, Shanks~!” You cried. Shanks only chuckled at your, what he can only describe as pathetic, reaction, sending those vibrations through your body once more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~!” You cursed, spurting out your secretions all on Shanks’ stubbled mouth. Shanks pulled away with a grin and a complete log in his pants while you watched him wipe the moisture off his face with an arm, all through completely distorted and blurred eyes. Your session was far from over though.

“Your turn?” You breathed heavily from your massive orgasm. Shanks still had that, as you like to describe it, sexy grin while he unbuckled his pants that were on the verge of bursting from his member.

“You know me so well~” He cooed, watching your sluggish body peel off the desk. You bit your lower lip and brought your body down to your shaken knees, your body still not fully recovered from your previous orgasm.

You saw Shanks’ member spring into your face. The intimidating size always caught you off guard each time he recoiled it onto you. You eyed the small number of sticky secretions spewing out of the hole from his arousal. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, making Shanks sharply hiss by your mere touch. You could tell he was longing for you ever since he saw you leave his place in your last appointment.

You placed a gentle kiss on the tip of it, making Shanks lightly jolt. He knew you were teasing him and he didn’t like it. Shanks’ excitement was getting way too much for him, and you were only making it worse.

“Open your pretty mouth, (F/N)” He ordered. You didn’t think he’d catch onto your sly antics so quickly. You obeyed submissively, extending your mouth agape in front of his throbbing, hot member.

You felt a hand rest on the back of your head, and it was the exact thing to push your mouth forcefully onto him whole. You let out a small yelp, followed by several sloppy gags by his girth and length. Shanks let out a long groan.

“Thaaaats it, doll~”

You began to bob your head back and forth along his size, gagging each and every time. Your hands gripped his pants, trying not to lose your breath in the middle of the session you impatiently longed for.

As soon as you looked up at Shanks with those “dumb” eyes, like he would call it, he felt like he lost all control. He used the hand that simply rested in your locks of hair to mercilessly skull fuck the air out of you.

Tears streaked down your face, completely smudging and ruining your makeup, but he didn’t care. In fact, he loved the way you’d look after he’d shove his cock far, far down your throat with his own hands. His groans and grunts became more consistent now that he was showing you zero remorse for your mouth and lungs. You tried every fiber in your body to fight through it.

“Yeah, take all of- mmmph~..! All of it in your mouth, princess” He breathed out. You didn’t stop looking up at him with teary, blackened eyes when he shoved every inch into your wet mouth faster than you can comprehend.

Shanks felt his long-awaited climax reach up to his core. He released a loving grunt when he slid your slobbering mouth off his member, a string of saliva connecting your plump lips with his dewed cock. He chuckled, completely in love with your distressed state and how quickly he ruined your caked face. You had saliva trickling down your chin and your chest expanded rapidly while you were catching your own breath.

"Your mouth is pretty with my cum and all, but I wanna dump it somewhere else, doll~"

In a blink of an eye, Shanks threw you back on that dark oak, glossed desk. Your bare breasts and stomach made direct contact coldly, making you shiver and flinch. His calloused hands grabbed the fats of your hips as handles. Your dress was still scrunched up to reveal your lower half—perfectly demonstrating the vast amounts of eagerness Shanks had for you when he laid his eyes on you at the doorway.

You felt the rose tip of his member caress your drenched opening, causing a whimper to leave your slobbering lips. Shanks hissed when the sensation of his hot member made contact with your cunt. Nothing, absolutely nothing, restrained him from him nosediving himself inside of your velvety walls forcefully. Shanks pushed a shriek out of your lips.

“Scream as loud as you want, princess~” Shanks cooed shakily, massaging your bruised thighs caused by the crimson-haired man completely breaking your mind with his cock. Shanks’ thrived on showing you off. Whether it be leaving marks, having you wear the jewels and gifts he gave you, or fucking your brain out in rather populated areas so people can hear your submissive moans and his hungry groans.

Shanks bucked his hips back and forth at a slow pace. He exhaled, feeling entirely pleased now that he finally got to feel your insides from a long, gruel week of waiting. You were all Shanks could think about, besides his rather gruesome occupancy, every week. He’d find himself teasing his wood through his pants at the mere thought of you and always contemplated invading your home just to release his urges. From the sheer obsession, Shanks had for you, an undercover bodyguard would look after you whenever he wasn’t there with you.

Shanks’ speed increased faster than you anticipated. After every stroke, you were rewarded with a sexy grunt or groan by the boss himself. You, on the other hand, were a moaning mess. You felt your own cervix being obliterated by Shanks’ merciless thrusts by the second.

“Oh, doll, you wrap around me so well” He groaned. His heavily scarred hand grabbed a handful of your now entangled hair. He yanked your head up to stare at the entire, fancy, well-kept room and the shut door.

That same door released a knock that was slightly suffocated by the sinful noises coming from both of you. There was no possible way the person behind the door couldn’t hear what was occurring in that office room, not with how loud you were moaning and how loud Shanks was pounding your body.

“Boss? We need the case file of our mission” A voice said from behind the door. You heard Shanks grumble.

He didn’t stop going crazy on your body while he searched the floor that carried scattered files of his targets he wanted dead. They all had one thing in common, but that didn’t matter right now since you both were only focused on climaxing.

“Im-.. fuck~.. Im busy!” Shanks yelled. Not a word was said after that, aside from your messy moans.

Your voice began to crescendo when that knot that was tightly built in your womb was beginning to snap. Your body was quivering before Shanks and he watched with a devious smile.

“Gonna cum, baby~?” He asked, knowing good and well what the answer was.

“Yes, sir… Mmmmph, Im gonna cum~!” You yelped.

Shanks admired your love juices spurting on his pelvis, knowing that he, yet again, made you climax hard and made your brain run blank. It was practically a talent to him.

“Good girl~” He praised, massaging your lower half while he let you ride out your hard orgasm. Shanks didn’t stop, though. You were bound to lose your ability to walk when he was finished with you but that wasn’t newborn at all.

Luckily, Shanks’ own climax was tailing behind yours. How you knew that the crimson man was about to dump his load was when his grunts would become breathless and he’d lightly chuckle from the amount of euphoria you gave him. He’d release one last loud groan, while it being slightly wobbly, and filled your hole past the brim with his seed.

“Fuck, baby~!” He shouted after his last pounding thrust, letting you feel the warm liquid flood your insides. You finally got an opportunity to catch your breath into your shriveled lungs and now worn-out throat.

You felt Shanks pull his huge girth out of your entrance, causing the waterfall of cum to pour out like a waterfall. You let out a long, soft moan when you felt all of the stuffing trickle down from your cunt to your leg.

“Let me get you cleaned up, princess” He smiled. While you were too busy trying to gather your consciousness together, Shanks buckled his pants and wiped off any remaining secretions lingering.

You rolled on your back to lift yourself up once your brain rebooted after being broken silly. Your hand lifted the fold that was scrunched down to cover your breasts and you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna do my business. You think you’ll be alright being here while Im off?” Shanks himself tried to catch his breath while he picked up the scattered papers on the floor. He threw them beside you on the desk, them now at your reach.

“Of course. Don’t get yourself killed” You giggled. Your statement made Shanks chuckle.

You watched him barricade you with his arms by resting them on either side of the desk you were lovingly displayed on. Your hand was placed under his chin and then trailed to remove a red strand that lingered over his eyes.

“You worry too much, doll” He cooed.

You hummed and had your hand grab the files of soon-to-be deceased victims. Your eyes analyzed the pictures and your expression dropped. Shanks watched, entirely pleased like he wanted you to see what was in that cream-colored folder.

That one thing that they all had in common was that they all wronged you one way or another. Thanks to Shanks’ trusted undercover agent, he was able to pinpoint each and every person, entirely for your pleasure.

“Shanks…” You muttered. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to be flattered or astonished by the files presented before you. You saw the boss pull away and search in his desk drawer.

“I have a gift for you, my sweet (F/N)” He cooed, pulling out something you couldn’t quite make out yet. You expected a new necklace or diamond earrings, but not a glistening gold ring of the iconic gem that was now shining before you.

“I want to marry you. So that now you’ll officially be mine”

His words turned your mind upside down. What was a weekend fling soon turned into an intimate bond that was now formally being promoted to newlyweds. You hadn’t felt this content and safe with someone for as long as you could remember, and it was rather obvious that Shanks had an undying infatuation with you since the incident at the men’s club. Your words immediately birthed the word Shanks anticipated.

“Of course, boss~”

all licensing and ownership belong to eiichiro oda

[pimosworld]

Tango

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary-It only takes a little push for you and Frankie to stop dancing around each other.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW,Smut, horrible date, tf boys being protective, cursing,angst,comfort, fingering, unprotected piv,cream pie,soft-dom Frankie,sweet aftercare. Reader is not race coded and photo does not represent reader.

WK-4k

A/N-I wrote this as a procrastination for my actual wips. Please enjoy my obsession with the tf boys being protective and as always hints of fishben.

Not beta read

————-

The bar is dark save for the few flashing lights of the music from the DJ booth. The thick humid air makes it hard to breathe as you belt out your favorite song while grinding on Santis flavor of the week. 

  It always went this way, you’d be the perfect wing woman for him, dancing with some person until you got tired and Santi would swoop in to take your place, and for a night or a few weeks you’d have a friend to accompany you on the dance floor while the boys nursed their beers. 

  You’ve been seeing this guy James casually for a few weeks that you met out one night on your own, but he wasn’t going to stop you from your weekly ritual of dancing out the stresses of your daily life. The guys seemed to tolerate him enough to invite him out, which is how you found yourself on the dance floor with ‘Francesca’ as they sat in the booth trying to look impressed with whatever your date was saying. 

  Pope was a Tom cat and had no issues picking up people but in his words ‘I love to watch you work your magic’. You couldn’t lie, it was exhilarating to be wanted by anyone. It’s not just a sexual attraction, it’s a rush when you can connect with someone on a different level. Inevitably once you introduced them to Santiago they would fall immediately but not before inviting you to join which you were adamant about not crossing that line with him-for now. 

  “She’s something else.” The sarcasm in his tone is completely lost on Frankie as he watches you and Santi’s soon to be hookup captivate the dance floor. 

  He can see it in their eyes, the way you make people feel like they're the only ones in the room with you. He thinks you’ve looked at him that way but he can’t be sure he wasn’t just seeing things. 

  “Ya she is.” It was supposed to be spoken in his head but evidently he said it out loud.

  Will shoots him a look but your date hardly notices the way he said it with such longing in his voice. He knows, they all know that Frankie has loved you forever. It seems the only one oblivious to this is you. 

  “I mean it’s hot if she’s not your girlfriend but if she is…” Suddenly all attention is on him and he doesn’t even notice. The tension starts to rise at the table like lions ready to pounce and he’s the innocent prey none the wiser. 

  “If she is then…what?” Will speaks first, the stoic one usually wanting to avoid confrontation for fear of losing his temper, except when it comes to you. 

  “Come on, you don’t mean to tell me you’d be ok with the way she’s acting in public if she was your girlfriend?” 

  “Did I miss something?” Ben turns to face James, seated conveniently next to him and Will subtly grabs his arm giving a light squeeze as a warning. This guy is not worth it. 

  “She’s just dancing right?” He looks around the table as Will scrubs his face with his hands and Santi is too enraptured with you and Francesca on the dance floor to notice Frankie’s hard set jaw and crossed arms staring daggers at your date.

  “Ya she’s dancing…she’s almost exposed half the room to her ass and it looks like they’re going to fuck right there on the dance floor.” Santi finally looks over at him tearing his eyes away from you and then to Frankie with a sly grin on his face. 

  “This pendejo got a problem?” 

  “No problem man,I just don’t know how comfortable you’d be with your girl acting like that.” Frankie digs his nails into his palm, sure to draw blood as he fights the urge to lunge across the table and teach this guy how to talk about women. 

  “If you’re upset about it you should definitely say somethin’.” The guys all turn to Will, mischievous grins on their face knowing what a massacre he was walking into. 

  You direct your gaze to the table completely oblivious to the conversation happening about you as Frankie smiles. His deep brown eyes look at you as if you’re the only one in the room. His signature cap turned backwards, encasing his curls. You’re locked in a trance almost forgetting about your date who you’ve left alone for quite some time with them. The guy wouldn’t even be here if you thought there was a chance with Frankie. 

  Most days you push those thoughts away, he was your best friend and if he wanted to be anything more he would make a move. 

  You grab Francesca’s hand to lead her over to the table, it is definitely time for a break and perhaps another drink while you rejoin Santi and the guys.

  ——

“You boys thirsty cause I am?” Will nudges Benny to move so he can slide out of the booth.

  “Next rounds on me sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead as he heads to the bar.

  You sit beside Frankie and you’re acutely aware of the dull ache in your feet, you groan as you rub your heel under the table. 

  “I take it you’re not joining us on the dance floor.” 

  “No Santiago, you go have fun.” Frankie resists the urge to rest his arm on the seat behind you as he always does when you’re next to each other. 

  Santi and Francesca head to the dance floor as you lean into Frankie momentarily forgetting your date.

   “It’s probably best if you take a break from embarrassing yourself anyway.” It feels like all the air has left your lungs as you glance over at your date in utter shock. 

  Benny gets a look in his eye you’ve never seen before as he leans across the table coming face to face with him. “I think the only one embarrassing themselves is you.” 

  James looks over at you now fully curled into Frankie’s side, his arm now draped across your shoulder with a gentle grip letting you know he’s there if you need him. 

  “Oh I see what’s happening here.” He gestures between the two of you and Ben. “Do you guys take turns or how does that work?” 

  Before you can blink Benny has his collar curled up in his fists as he pulls him out of the booth. 

  Will ditches the drinks at the bar to run over and grab Ben before you’re all kicked out. 

  “I was gone for two seconds, what happened?” Ben releases his collar shoving him into the table as Will stands between the two. 

  “Ben was just giving him a lesson in how to talk to women.” Frankie’s calm tone is a stark contrast to the feral look in his eyes as he stares him down just waiting for him to say something stupid again. 

  He hasn’t released his grip on you and you’ve all but melted into his embrace as you try not to focus on his calloused hand rubbing circles on your shoulder as the other picks nervously at the label on his beer. 

  “I’m out of here, you guys can have her.” He brushes past Will, not bothering to look in your direction. In true coward form he calls over his shoulder just far enough away from Benny. “She doesn’t put out anyway.” 

  “Fucking jackass.” They all turn to you as you’ve seemed to have found your voice again. 

  “Don’t worry about guys like that hermosa, they don’t deserve you.” His eyes have softened again as he looks at you, there’s a pull that you can’t resist forming between the two of you and you don’t want to fight it anymore. 

  He’s not sure if you're aware or if you were subconsciously rubbing your hand along his thigh to calm yourself. It’s having the opposite effect on him as a slow burning heat builds in his stomach, you’re inching your hand further and further and his cock twitches as his body betrays him. You take in a sharp inhale and he bites down hard on his bottom lip to suppress the groan threatening to spill out. 

  Will clears his throat getting your attention again as you glance at Benny with a wide grin on his face practically bouncing on his feet from the adrenaline. 

  “I’m gonna grab those drinks I left before I had to wrangle rocky over here.” 

  Ben slides in next to you caging you in against Frankie, personal space was not the boy's strong suit. 

  “Thank you.” He looks down at you with those big blue eyes. 

  “What are you thanking me for, sweetheart?” 

  “For defending my honor of course.” Frankie’s laugh reverberates through your body filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling. 

  “Don’t thank him, he loves doing shit like that.” Benny flips him off as Will returns to the table with the drinks, Santi and his date walk up still catching their breath from dancing. 

  “Fish should be thanking me for getting rid of him.”

  “Ben.” Will's warning has him throwing his hands up in mock surrender. You almost miss the look Frankie sends him, a silent conversation between the two that looked as close to thank you as it could get. 

  “For the record I do put out, he was just having some performance issues.” Santis eyes go wide at the comment as the rest of the table erupts in laughter. 

  “I definitely missed something cariño.”

  “Nothing much just Ben taking out the trash.” He finally notices your absent date and your close proximity to Frankie and claps his brother on the shoulder. 

  “Finally you two idiotas can stop dancing around each other.” Heat creeps up your neck at the thought of your crush being more obvious than you previously knew. 

  It relaxes you a little to see the redness on Frankie’s face as he’s been outed as well. He doesn’t deny it and that sends a rush of confidence through your body. 

  “I would never trust a man who didn’t like the sight of two beautiful women dancing with each other.” He looks at his date and she practically has hearts in her eyes for him. Some may say he laid in on a little thick but they fell for it every time. 

  Frankie adjusts again and your hand brushes against the bulge straining on his jeans. You give a light squeeze to test the waters and he leans down close to your ear. “You’re killing me right now, I hope you know that.”

  “Do you want to get out of here?” He nods at you and drops his arm from your shoulder to grab your hand to help you out of the booth. 

  “Where are you two going?” Benny looks like a wounded puppy as his brother leans back crossing his arms smiling sweetly at the two of you. 

  “My feet are killing me, Frankie’s gonna take me home.” Decent enough excuse not that it mattered, they all knew where you were going. 

  “You’re leaving without me?” 

  “Ben!” Santi and Will say in unison and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his incessant teasing. 

  “Maybe next time Ben.” Frankie shoots you a look as you shrug your shoulders. “He thought you two were sharing me anyway.” 

  “Ok I definitely missed something.” Santi and his date slide into your unoccupied seats as you and Frankie say your goodbyes. 

  You’re buzzing with nervous excitement as you walk through the bar hand in hand. He’s keeping you so close, a constant reminder of his protective nature.

  You’ve almost made it to the door before a large hand pulls you back slightly startling you. Frankie turns to see Ben holding your other hand placing a kiss on top.

  “I’m holding you to what you said.” You roll your eyes as you look up at Frankie whose patience is wearing painfully thin. 

  “Good night Benjamin.” He says through gritted teeth as he pulls you outside. You both laugh as you jog to his truck to try and make a break for it before he comes back for more. 

  He opens the door for you as he’s done a thousand times, you lift yourself up into the seat and before you can grab it he’s already buckling you in. He hesitantly pulls back as his hand brushes along your thigh. You instinctively close your legs but his hand gently pries them open as he runs his fingers higher under the hem of your dress. 

  His eyes haven’t left yours as he waits for you to tell him to stop but you don’t. Your chest is rising and falling and the slow drag of anticipation is building the heat in your core. You don’t care that you’re still in the parking lot as he touches his fingers to your soaked center. 

  He silences the soft whimper leaving your lips as he crashes his into yours. You swallow a groan as you bite down softly on his bottom lip. 

  “Are you this wet for me?” You nod against his lips as he moves your panties to the side dragging a finger through your slit. 

  “This is what you were doing to me hermosa.” He had a point but you definitely weren’t this graphic. It’s so depraved it shouldn't be turning you on this much. The thought of being caught has a fresh wave of slick coating his fingers. 

  “I want you to come right here.” He dips two fingers in pumping slowly at first as his thumb rubs circles on your clit. 

  You’re panting in his mouth as your hips try to leave the seat. The buckle restricts your movements and the heavy weight of his other palm on your hip.

  It would look to the outside like he’s talking to you with the door open as he uses his body to shield what he’s doing. 

  A familiar feeling is building in your center as he picks up his pace, coaxing you on with hushed words. You’re a whimpering mess while you grip his shoulder as he calls you his good girl.

  “Oh my god Frankie.”

  “That’s it hermosa come on, I know you can do it.” He’s growling in your ear as he rolls his hips into the seat for friction. 

  You don’t think anyone’s ever made you feel like this with just their hands as a wave of pleasure shoots through you. He presses down on that bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars and you’re stifling your moans into his neck as you come down from your high. 

  He kisses you soft and sweet as if he didn’t just take you apart in the parking lot of this bar. He pulls his fingers from you leaving an empty ache that you can’t wait to be filled. He brings them up to his mouth and drags them between his lips, humming at the taste. 

  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” His confession and lust blown eyes have you momentarily flustered. 

  You grab his neck pulling him into you as you lick into his mouth tasting yourself on his tongue. After waiting so long the desperation for each other is seeping through every fiber of your being as he devours your lips like his last meal. 

  You pause for a moment as he rests his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

  “If we don’t leave now we won’t hear the end of it from Ben.” He plants a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls away and closes your door. You’re grinning to yourself at the thought of explaining to any of them why you were still in the parking lot. 

  ——

  The ride to your house is less heated than your previous exchange but it’s almost better than that. His hand hasn’t left your thigh as he focuses on the road occasionally glancing over to you. You can’t stop looking over at him and his backwards hat doing wild things to your imagination.

  The silence is filled with so much tension as you think about finally having something you’ve wanted for so long. 

  He pulls into your driveway, mirroring so many things he’s done before yet this time as he comes around to open your door and help you out you can feel the desperation. He’s crowding behind you as you make your way to the door, his hands caress your hips as you struggle with shaky hands to unlock it. 

  As you enter he spins you around pressing his body to yours against the door, his breath is hot on your neck as he trails kisses along it down to your collarbone and pulls at the fabric of your dress with his teeth. 

  You throw his hat somewhere behind him as you finally run your fingers through his soft locks, he moans into your chest as you tug him further into you. Every nerve in your body is on the edge waiting to be pushed over. 

  He lifts your leg over his hip as he grinds into you, his hard cock straining through his jeans as he rubs it against you. You reach between you to unbuckle his pants and dip your hand under the waistband of his boxers, desperate to feel the soft skin of his cock as you wrap your fingers around it. 

  “Fuck.” He’s panting into your neck as he cants his hips helping you stroke him over and over. He gently grabs your wrist stilling your movements. “I’m not gonna last if you don’t stop.”

  “Bedroom?” Your voice comes out more timid than you like but he insistently nods his head as he gets a look in his eyes that you’ve only seen a handful of times. 

  You withdraw your hand and step out of your heels, he thinks you’re going to lead the way as you lightly push against his chest trailing your fingers down to put some distance between you but he sees a moment flash in your eyes as you take off towards the bedroom. 

  You may have had the element of surprise but just briefly as you hear loud footsteps quickly approaching. You’re giggling like some teenager as you round the corner to your bedroom. His hands are on your waist pulling you hard into his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.” He’s growling into your ear, breathing heavy behind you as he pulls your dress over your head. 

  You turn in his arms and graze your fingers under the hem of his shirt, lightly brushing the soft skin of his belly. He shudders under your touch as you lift it over his head. 

  This dance you’re doing with each other feels practiced like you’ve done it a thousand times. You don’t think after tonight you’ll be able to walk away not needing and wanting this everyday. 

  He walks you backward until your legs hit the bed, he gestures his fingers for you to scoot back as he strips down to nothing. He’s standing hard and naked in front of you, eyes boring into you hungrily like he wants to devour you. 

  He dips his knee onto the bed as he trails his fingers up your calf, leaning down to place kisses along your thighs and your stomach as he works his way up. He pauses between your breasts and you can feel his cock twitch against your clothed core. A half whine leaves your lips as he sucks hard on your nipple while his hand teases the other. 

  “Patience…I told you I was gonna make you pay for that hermosa.” Surely chasing you a few feet down a small hallway doesn’t equal the teasing he’s putting you through but you don’t want this to be over quickly so you will yourself to relax. 

  He tucks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips as he slides them down your legs discarding them somewhere behind him. He leans back a little as he spreads your legs wide exposing your dripping folds to him. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” 

  He grips the base of his cock, the tip is red and angry steadily leaking precum as he pumps himself over you groaning at the way your pussy clenches in anticipation. He drags the tip through your slit without pressing in, the sensation is too much and not enough as you try to raise your hips. He presses you down hard into the mattress with his other hand as his lips crash into yours swallowing your whimpers of frustration.

  “I like those little noises you make…I might just keep playing with you for a while.”  He teases your entrance just barely pressing into your core and then slowly pulls away. He chuckles into your neck at the loud mewl you let out.

  He’s trying to kill you. If you died this way it would be worth it. 

  “Frankie…” Your attempt at begging is cut off as he buries himself to the hilt, he’s so thick and the stretch is almost too much but he slowly starts to rock his hips and you both let out a sigh of relief as your body finally relaxes. Your legs spread wider to wrap around his waist as your feet press against his ass to pull him in closer. 

  “Fuck this pussy feels like heaven.” He moans into your neck as he picks up his pace, you can feel every ridge of his cock through your walls as you clench down hard on him, the sounds coming from him only spur you on more as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. 

  He grabs your hands placing them above your head as he looks between you watching where your bodies meet. You’re shaking beneath him as your climax quickly approaches, he leans down kissing you and swallowing every moan that leaves your lips. 

  His pace is faltering and you can tell he’s right on the edge with you. You lock your fingers with his still placed above your head as you whisper praises into his ear and chants of his name. 

  “Come with me Frankie.” The breathless tone of your voice and the lone tear falling down your face as you come hard, clenching down on him. It’s like a firework behind your eyes as he shouts your name into your neck grinding his hips once and twice before he collapses his weight on top of you. 

  You lay there a while rubbing soothing lines up and down his sweaty back as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “I’m crushing you.” He tries to slide off you but you cage him in with your legs not yet ready to face the moment where he might leave. 

  “Just a little bit longer please?” He kisses your lips as an answer. Swollen and puffy from the night's activities but so soft in his own way. 

  He eventually pulls away from you as he retreats to your bathroom, you can faintly hear the sound of running water as sleep tries to claim you. He returns with a washcloth as he delicately wipes your thighs and your folds with such care that you almost cry. No one’s ever cared for you like this after sex. It’s a shame how foreign it feels. 

  “It would probably be more comfortable if we slept under the covers.” He’s trying to tug them back as you register what he’s saying. 

  “You want to stay?” He pauses at your words perhaps a little forward in assuming you wanted him to.

  “Of course…only if you want.” You crawl under them faster than you realize and pat the spot next you where you normally have a mountain of pillows. 

  He slides in perfectly as he pulls you flush against him, his slow breaths fanning the back of your neck as he starts to fall asleep. 

  The unspoken rhythm of this dance finally finds its voice between you. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[ystrike1]

I Took Away the Tyrant's Chastity - By 백단 (5.5/10)

It's rough out there for puppy yandere lovers. It's rare to find one that isn't presented in a comedic way. Finding one that comes with a good plot is even rarer. Don't get your hopes up for this one. It's not a proper story. It's all empty wish fulfillment.

Judith was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. The real Judith wasted that spoon. She acted selfishly until her own family gave up on her, and her fiance wasn't even criticized for executing her. She was that awful. Judith reincarnates with a different soul. It's a Korean college student, who knows the ideal world she exists in is a book. She's sad for a bit, but she quickly notices that all the building blocks for the perfect life are there. A loving family. Wealth. Guaranteed good marriage...if she doesn't act like a sociopath. So, she doesn't. She becomes a beloved daughter.

Judith is a bit of an idiot, but that is her only character flaw. She has vowed to be a good and filial daughter. She will marry and continue to be a supportive force for her powerful family....but she wants to fool around first. Masquerade balls for unmarried women and men are the norm. Fooling around before marriage seems to be expected for both genders. You have to get your desire for adventure out of your system, before you marry for politics. It's not the worst idea. Judith goes to a state sactioned hook up ball for young adults and...all of the men are ugly. Oh no!

She sees one handsome option just before she gives up. She wants to fool around, but not enough to debase herself for rude men. The stranger is reasonably polite, and we get enthusiastic consent on both sides before the hook up. By the way this is also a way to get married. Lots of couples get formed during these parties, but you're not obligated to stay with your partner...most of the time.

Handsome Guy is the Emperor, Theo, and he's always been a little crazy.

Theo married Past Judith, and he also executed her so he could marry a better woman. Judith was deeply insecure and unpleasant to everyone. She used the title of Empress to stroke her own ego, and she bullied every woman who spoke to Theo. The way she behaved was extra stupid, but it explains alot. Theo is a scary and bloodthirsty husband. Judith was the only woman dumb enough to marry him for power. Theo killed close family members to get his throne, so when Judith stepped out of line...yeah he didn't even hesitate.

New Judith has no interest in him, but she wakes up in his bed.

Theo pressures her to take responsibility and...I admit it. The scene is kind of funny and entertaining. Emperor Theo is tired of being drenched in gore all day. He thinks Judith is adorable, and she's clearly attracted to...his body. That's good enough for him. He wants a bride he can relax around. The spoiled rotten sweet version of Judith is perfect for that. Her powerful family loves her in this timeline too. He's obsessed with creating a happy home with her.

He almost throws his chef in jail for serving food she doesn't like, because he's so obsessed with impressing her. Judith isn't into that. She wanted a normal husband. Theo is too crazy for her. So, what's the plan? How the heck is she planning to get away?

.....

....

.........

Judith is a moron. She sneaks out and she plans to switch places??? With her maid??? So she can leave the country until Theo finds somebody else??? Even though he has already proposed and its clearly too late??? It's also clear that Theo will kill her maid and the people who try to hide her???

He's not threatened by her brain dead plan. He picks her up seconds after she sneaks out of her parent's mansion.

Theo is cold as ice. His mother could not handle court politics. He can handle betrayal and any worst case scenario with ease. Judith not liking him and not wanting to marry him is a minor problem. It's not even close to the level of drama he's used to. Everything she does is cute, compared to what his enemies do. She's moved by his handsome face too, and he finds that endlessly entertaining. The other ladies piss themselves in fear at the sight of him, so Judith being dumb (and lusty) is a huge plus for him.

Serne was the heroine in the original story. She was a serious, smart woman who could match the Emperor in battle. Theo married her after he got rid of Judith. Together they cleaned up the castle and made it more organized, and less corrupt. The thing is...Theo doesn't need someone to fix the castle. It's running just fine. His enemies are too scared of him to do anything serious, and Judith isn't crazy. So nobody is causing cracks on the inside. He is totally free to marry a cute and useless bride.

Judith thinks he will still fall for Serne, but its pretty obvious that he never fell in the first place. He married her because she was good Empress material. He wants current Judith because she makes him happy. The yandere moments are very janky, but they're there.

[flowerandblood]

The Golden Cage (Epilogue)

[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female]

[warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, fluff]

[description: Aemond works with the mob and finds a new accomplice. His attention is drawn to his daughter, trying to isolate herself as much as possible from their criminal underworld. Angst, domination kink, a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

Ever since he'd come to her that morning when he'd sought comfort in her arms after Luke's death, their relationship had taken a different level that she couldn't understand. Her confession - her promise to be by his side - made him take it literally. And even though she meant what she said then, it surprised her.

She quickly realized that the Black Moon Club was owned by his family without even having to ask him. She knew that he was tired of her father complaining about him, screwing his daughter under his roof. One day she got a text from an unknown number and she knew it was him.

A: "Little birdie - BMC, today, at 9 p.m."

She looked at the message as if it were some kind of code, but then she understood what he meant. He wanted to meet her on his land, he wanted her to come to him. She pursed her lips at the thought.

She knew that her feelings for him were disturbing to say the least. Every time he fucked her, he drew from her the confessions of her fervent devotion and love, which he craved as much as a child in need of a parent's approval. Not that he wanted her to dominate him - his control gave him a sense of security.

She wasn't sure if she should give him what he wanted. On reflection she decided, that he was always the one who came to her so she could take that into account. However, she decided that she wouldn't make it easy for him.

Y: "I have an important exam tomorrow."

She answered him impassively, which was true. She knew that for some reason he was obsessed with her studies, her good grades, and her academic performance. He often asked her if she had prepared well for the upcoming exam.

She believed that deep down he couldn't bear the fact, that his family forced him to drop out of college to focus solely on their underground business.

She knew that he felt deficient in that regard. He constantly borrowed books from her when she no longer needed them. He also liked to watch her read, lying next to him, naked.

He would lie there, resting his forehead against her warm, soft shoulder, kissing it gently once in a while, looking at her. He fell asleep, and after a while she turned off the lamp, lay down next to him and dozed off. His big hand would find her then and pull her to him.

A: "I need you."

She pursed her lips as she read the words. She knew that he had defeated her. Since Luke's deat, there has been a huge division in his family, with shootings and homicides.

She knew he was here today but might not be tomorrow.

That she might have been the target of his uncle's attack, and that was why his men had followed her closely, watching her from afar. She pretended not to see it so as not to go crazy.

She gave in and went to see him at the appointed time. In front of the entrance to the club stood the same security guards with whom she had spoken many times. Now they didn't stop her when they saw her, letting her in right away. People in the club turned to her, curious.

She knew that she was some kind of enigma, a shadow woman who came and went by his side. Not that it bothered her. She had no intention of being his whore.

She had no problem being his property, though. She knew he was only pretending to objectify her. She was like a precious jewel to him, which he hid from everyone in the closet.

She saw him sitting on a sofa with several girls and other men, one of them leaning towards him, talking to him quickly, anxiously. He seemed to be explaining something to him, and Aemond didn't seem convinced by his explanation. She could tell from the smallest gestures on his face whether he was pleased or not.

He smoked a cigarette, staring blankly ahead, his face hardened, his lips tight. Whatever the man was saying didn't work, Aemond was growing impatient. She saw him roll his eye and say something slowly, low, the man next to him curled up.

She pursed her lips as she saw one of the girls, apparently accompanying them, cuddle up to his shoulder, whispering something in his ear.

She wanted to turn and leave, but then he saw her, his pupil narrowed. She could see that he stopped listening to what this helpless guy was saying to him, and focused only on what she looked like.

His gaze fell on her legs, on her pretty, black, sparkly boots, tied up in a knot, her white, soft, wool mid-thigh socks, her soft, black, velor dress with a white collar and long sleeves that hugged her waist so nicely. She knew that she did not fit into this interior, this music, these people who surrounded him and that was her goal.

She wasn't going to be absorbed into his world, snorting cocaine next to him like those girls, who were looking for sponsors and daddies. She wasn't desperate, because she had no reason to be.

But now, looking at this girl who was clinging to his arm, who was still trying to talk to him, not realizing that he was now looking only at her, she felt a pang of jealousy and pain.

She wondered if that was why he had invited her. To make her feel that he is her owner, not she his. That he can do what he wants, fuck who he wants. She pursed her lips at the thought.

She shuddered and took a step back as she saw him slowly stand up, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He blew smoke through his nose, ignoring the surprised look of the guy that he had apparently stopped talking to mid-sentence and the disappointed look of the girl, who was now looking at her, disturbed.

Aemond approached her unhurriedly, his black T-shirt tucked into his pants, showing how well built he was. She tried not to think about how her body reacted automatically to the sight of him with the moisture between her thighs.

He grabbed her nape with his big hand and obviously wanted to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He stopped mid-gesture, narrowing his eye. They stared at each other for a moment.

“You asked me to come, so here I am. What happened?" She asked, raising her voice a little, so she could be heard over the announcing club music surrounding them. Aemond looked at her thoughtfully, still holding her by the scruff of the neck.

“Something must have happened?” He asked dispassionately, and she felt a tightness in her heart. He must have seen her gaze soften suddenly, because a smirk appeared on his face. "You look nice with jealousy on your face."

She broke away from him, wanting to head for the exit, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around in a swift motion towards him, pulling her so that she crashed into him, slamming her face into his chest. He locked her in his arms and wouldn't let her go, her hands on his chest trying to pull away. He chuckled at her helpless efforts.

"Come on. Let's go fuck."

As soon as they entered one of the VIP rooms he literally pounced on her, shoving his fleshy tongue into her lips down to her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw, that he had chosen a room that had a nice double bed, not a couch and table like the others. Her whole body shivered as she thought that he had it all planned out.

He grabbed her hips and lifted her as lightly as if she weighed nothing. He headed for the bed and threw himself on it with her, she felt the pleasant smell of clean sheets around her.

Her breathing quickened, her muscles clenched in her lower abdomen as he quickly took off her boots and then her panties. It was not in his nature to pretend or subtly build desire. He got straight to the point, and his directness made her want it even more.

She sighed and shivered as his hands ran over her thighs and the material of her high socks, looking at the sight with appreciation. He grunted in satisfaction, seeing how wet she was, how beautiful it looked.

"I love it when you wear them." He said, slipping his finger under the material of her soft sock, stroking her bare skin underneath. “They're so fucking sexy. I'll fuck you in them, okay?" He hummed, and she nodded so eagerly that he chuckled, a smile of satisfaction on his face.

“Such a good girl. You deserve an award today." He grunted in appreciation and leaned over her, the tip of his tongue running timidly over her entrance.

Her whole body arched in pleasure at this gentle sensation, she trembled, a sweet moan escaped from her mouth. She felt him smiling, his hands tightening on her thighs, his mouth and tongue moving to her clit, teasing her with wet, circular motions. She clenched her hands to the sheets around her, pursed her lips, trying hard not to make any noise.

She heard him pull away from her, licking his lips, looking at her expectantly.

"Is this a punishment?" He grunted, apparently slightly amused by her efforts. She pursed her lips at his words, annoyed, her pussy throbbing all over, hot and swollen with desire.

"Take the girl from your table. She looked like she wanted to moan with you." She said, squinting, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling. She saw his eye gleam menacingly. She shivered.

He leaned over her again, and she arched back, taking a deep breath as she felt his tongue slide suddenly inside her, all the way to the end. He licked her in a fast, intense, perverted rhythm, immediately caressing and teasing the place that gave her the greatest pleasure.

Usually at first he was tormenting her by not allowing her to experience her full pleasure, but now he was clearly determined to bring her to orgasm as soon as possible.

She rose slightly on her hands, spreading her thighs wider in front of him, one of her hands automatically slid into his hair, pressing him closer to her, wanting to feel him even deeper.

She couldn't help herself, her hips responded greedily to his caresses, broken, powerless moans of pleasure escaped her lips every time the tip of his tongue brushed against her wonderful spot.

She began to pant, and they both sped up their movements, her moans getting louder and more desperate, he had never been so determined to satisfy her so quickly. She leaned back and moaned loudly in surprise as she felt a sudden wave of heat and pleasure run through her body, her insides tightening on his tongue, her hips falling against his face.

She heard his hum of satisfaction, licking everything that flowed out of her patiently, delighted. He pulled away from her and wiped his face with his hand, giving her a look so proud of himself that she pursed her lips in frustration.

"What's that face, little birdie? Where's the thank you?" He asked amused, starting to unbutton his pants. She swallowed softly at his words, looking at him, her chest heaving uneasily. She thought that if he wanted to play like that, she would drive him crazy herself.

She spread her thighs for him, pulling her dress up to reveal everything to him, her expression now soft, innocent, her lips parted sweetly, invitingly.

"Right here, between my thighs." She whispered, her hands on either side of her head in total surrender. "Don't you want to feel how warm I am inside?"

She saw his iris darken at her words, his jaw clench as he quickly unzipped his fly and slid his pants down, along with his boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down.

She parted her lips with a slight smile of satisfaction as she saw how hard he was, his cock throbbing impatiently, swollen. He squeezed himself at the base several times as he looked at her.

"Of course I fucking want to. I'm gonna cum in you a few times today, okay?" He hummed, taking her thighs in his hands, pulling them to him so that the tip of his cock pressed against her wet, throbbing entrance.

She nodded at his words and moaned softly, her hands gripping the sheets on either side of her head as she felt him slither into her a little, pushing her fleshy, hot, oversensitive walls to the limit.

“Yes, cum inside me as many times as you want” She mumbled and started panting with him, as he began to move at a fast, intense pace, his cock penetrating her all the way, stretching her hot inside painfully hard.

"Just like that. My girl likes to be taken care of, doesn't she?" He panted, thrusting into her fast, his thighs slapping her buttocks with all his might with a perverted, wet slap of their bodies, that made her nipples stick out. She moaned sweetly at his words, her body leaning back in pleasure, as his thumb began to tease her clit again.

"− y-yes − yes − please, take care of me −" She sobbed helplessly, wanting only to be fulfilled with him again, to feel his seed deep inside her, to feel how much he desired her.

She heard him groan low at her words, speeding up, the mattress creaking beneath them with each of his brutal thrusts into her tight pussy.

"You want to please me, don't you? So fucking come for me, squeeze on my cock a bit.” He purred in delight, out of breath, close to the fulfillment he needed. Her body began to tremble, heat gathering again in her lower abdomen, she felt that she was close.

"− I will, just please, touch me there −" She mewled and moaned surprised as his thumb began to massage her clit in circular motions, teasing her almost painfully, making her body try to pull away, thrusting into her with sticky slaps.

"− come on, babygirl, give it to me −give me what I want −” He panted helplessly and she leaned back, her mouth parted, her whole body tense.

A loud, sweet moan escaped her throat, as a second orgasm washed over her in wonderful, hot waves, her insides clenching against his throbbing cock. Feeling it, he tipped his head back, his hips pumping against her relentlessly.

"− that's right − fuck, yes! −" He gasped loudly as he cum inside her, breathing heavily, staring at her with his mouth parted.

He fell on top of her, pinning her with his body, his face against her cheek. She didn't think about it, just hugged him, breathing fast and he grunted contentedly. She could feel him pulsating inside her, the remnants of his seed spilling over her hot core. They both tried to calm down.

She felt his nose press against her soft skin, tracing it slowly up and down her face, inhaling her scent. He often did this after their close-ups, once in a while placing soft, wet kisses on her cheek. She sighed softly, closing her eyes. Hearing this, he spoke up.

"You're so silly, little birdie. Don't you knowthat you're the only one I fuck with?" He purred, placing small, sweet kisses on her skin. "The only one I cum in?"

She felt a shiver go through her at his words. She wondered why she cared at all. She tried to kid herself that it would be better if he finally found another object of desire, but she knew that wasn't true.

She was as addicted to him as he was to her.

"I wanted you to come, because I want to discuss something with you." He said calmly and she looked at him, turning to face him. His hand slowly ran over her cheek and hair. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“I want to move out of my family home into my new apartment. Move in with me. I want to have you by my side." He spoke softly, and she gasped, her mouth parted, completely taken aback by his proposal.

For a moment she couldn't get a word out. She looked down, afraid to say what was on her mind.

"I don't want to be your dependent." She said finally.

He pursed his lips and she knew that he didn't like her words. Still, when he answered her, his voice sounded gentle.

"Finish your studies. Find a job that suits you. Just be by my side."

_____

Thank you for your journey, this is by far one of my favorite fanfics I've written here! 😭😭😭

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

Others: @okfashionista @abrielletargaryen

[strawberryfairi]

TR Guys + Their Types PT 2

Headcanons! ↳ Black Girl Edition🤎

⚜️Featuring: Hakkai Nahoya (Smiley) Draken Mitsuya Wakasa

(Honestly I love making these)

Hakkai

~ Ugh, Hakkai the sweetheart. ~ He's so freaking shy and awkward so he'll definitely need some help from a more bold kind of girl....at least with a bit more guts than him or else chile...the relationship ain't getting nowhere.

~ I could see Hakkai with a girl that loves to color coordinate clothes and kind of match together every now and then; maybe for a little date night.

~ Going off of this^^ I could for SURE see him having a couples fashion page together with her. Like think of those boujee high fashion show audience member outfits like a Schiaparelli or Balmain vibe.

~ I think Hakkai would go for the kind of woman with a really naturally soothing voice. That kind of just airy, light voice.

~ Definitely loves the kind of woman that loves doing fun activities together (I know y'all remember that scene in S2 when Hakkai was tearing up that bowling alley and pool table and all that)!

~ As for hairstyles, Hakkai truly does love anything she's wear and I could definitely see him getting style advice from you (even though he eats all of his hairstyles).

Nahoya (Smiley)

~ I can so see him with someone that's good at doing hair. Like she'll try out all these cute styles on him that'll have him lookin' good. I could see him start feelin' himself after she tries a new style on him that he likes. (Potentially a genuine hair stylist).

~ Will definitely turn her into his own personal hair stylist.

~ I think he'd love the kind of girl that will take his outfits and completely finesse them. Like wearing one of his bomber jackets or tops and makes it look ten times better on her.

~ I can absolutely see him going for a girl that's into high street wear styles! For example: Imagine a graphic tee that's tied in the front for a slight crop effect with some cute cut out designs in the back, cute jeans, topped off with tie up heels and a cute little mini bag.

~ She MUST get along with his brother or else it's just not happening. But that's obvious.

~ Since he be so damn rowdy all the time, I can see him with the kinda girl that levels him out.

~ I can also very much see him with a comical girl. Like she's just always making him laugh and is genuinely a funny and witty person. Also good with comebacks.

Draken

~I feel like Draken definitely likes the girly type. Lipgloss collections, cute skirts, a plethora of perfumes both high and low end, and shopping is a therapeutic experience for her. Like he can't keep up with her new outfits.

~ Personality-wise she's gotta value family and friendships. He definitely would NOT like the type that's just always randomly cutting someone off because of one minor argument or something they said. I think he'd like the kinda woman that will work things out and value the people she has in her life (especially because he never really had his parents so he always cherishes the people he does have).

~ I think he'd like a ray of sunshine kind of girl. Just always lighting up a room with her bubbly and upbeat personality.

~ When it comes to her hair, I can absolutely see him obsessed with the different kind of braid styles she does. From Fulani braids to cornrows with zigzag parts, he just utterly eats it up every time.

~ And don't even get him started with the cute beads! Like..it's a yes for him.

~ He definitely likes for her to do his hair for him, and try out different kinds of braids aside from his simple braided ponytail.

Mitsuya

~ Ok so this man Mitsuya for sure loves a family oriented woman, just straight off the bat.

~ I think he'd like a very down to earth and friendly kind of girl.

~ I could see Mitsuya with a cook like...hold on hear me out.

~ Mitsuya is already good at cooking but I can see him with a professional or just really great cook. I can imagine him cooking and learning things from her wether it's just how to cook more efficiently or cooking foods from other cultures (*cough* Like Soul Food *cough*).

~ Mitsuya would like a girl that can show him all kinds of new things and he could show her new things as well.

~ I think Mitsuya is just the kinda guy who is interested in lots of things so he'd like a girl who's open-minded in that way too.

~ Definitely can see him with a fashionable woman too. I just imagine him first meeting her by being so entranced by her outfit and her walk (instantly she becomes his muse that he creates all kinds of fashions for).

~ I don't think Mitsuya would mind being with a tall girl either. On some Zendaya x Tom Holland vibe!

~ I for sure believe Mitsuya loves to do spontaneous dates! Some days it's real fancy and boujee and other days it's just a chill date night at home with a nice meal he's cooked and a cute "restaurant music" playlist he picked on Spotify. So a woman that doesn't mind the full spectrum of dates (cause let's be honest some girls be like boujee dates ONLY, trynna be extra...) he'd really appreciate.

Wakasa

~ Honestly I feel like Wakasa would like a woman that's really opposite from him in certain ways.

~ For example^^, I think he'd love an energetic, highly sociable type of woman. Loves to talk and meet new people while Wakasa's a bit more quiet and reserved (doesn't mean he doesn't like to talk, it's just not gonna be his go-to thing to do unless he's drunk as a skunk).

~ It's an official cannon that Wakasa is the clingy type so I could definitely see him with the kind of woman that's not really that way but puts up with his clinginess just for him.

~ I'm also getting wise vibes. Like he'd like a woman that is really wise and will have him thinking about things from different perspectives when they talk about certain topics.

~ I feel like Wakasa would like a woman that is (like Mitsuya) on the more open-minded side when it comes to trying all kinds of new things. Wakasa seems like the type that wouldn't really mind trying something he's never done at least once just to see.

~ Definitely could see him with like an outdoorsy girl, or at least someone who's open to camping or going out fishing (and doesn't mind the bugs💀...).

~ I think Wakasa would like a girl that's random. As in just does random stuff out of nowhere due to boredom (ex: breaking out into song loudly in the middle of silence or quoting random movie lines).

~ As for outfits, I think Wakasa would be drawn to like the super cute, dainty, feminine style. Loves him a cute frilly skirt or sundress! He spends so much time around his friends and stuff (a whole bunch of rowdy ass gang boys), that when he sees a really girly girl it's like he's hit by a feminine ultra-blast or something (what am I saying lol).

~ For hairstyles, I think Wakasa would be OBSESSED with the perm rod curls style. Those super cute, bouncy spiral curls would have him staring so hard on accident (lowkey lookin' like a weirdo). I could see him always pulling on them then letting go to watch it bounce back.

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: As requested I made some new headcanons @honeybunhottie 🩵 Hope you enjoy it as much as the last!

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

[fists-on-up]

I started this blog when Twitter looked like it was going down so I could keep up with my gaylor friends. Most of them are still on Twitter, but as a writer I am a wordy motherfucker & I hate character limits. So, rather than let this blog lay dormant I am going to use it for more personal gaylor related things & more abstract/complex perspectives.

I might as well start by explaining how I stumbled upon the gaylor community because I feel like my journey here was much different than most.

I am a little older than Taylor & have mostly listed to rock & EDM my whole life. I don't hate pop, but I don't really seek it out & I don't care much about trends or pop culture. I had heard the most popular Taylor Swift songs in passing. I didn't hate Taylor at all, I just never looked further into her music.

I do vaguely remember feeling like YBWM sounded very much like being in love with your high school best friend who doesn't consider you an option because you're a girl, and as a Shakespeare obsessed lesbian Love Story pinged the ol' gaydar because forbidden love is way more common for queer people. It's not impossible, though, for a girl's family to not approve of a particular boy so I chalked it up to a specific situation she faced coupled with me viewing lyrics through my own (very gay) experiences. Especially given the fact that Romeo & Juliet tends to be referenced often based upon a very surface-level understanding of the story.

These thoughts did stick with me subconsciously, as it turns out. One day I was listening to a Spotify generated playlist I was really digging and Don't Blame Me came on while I was in the shower. I thought "Wow, this is a very sexy, Sapphic song who the hell is this??" I checked when I got out of the shower & was so confused. I LOVED it and listened to it frequently, but it still hadn't clicked completely.

Then I heard only the bridge to Cruel Summer in a TikTok & said "Oh my God, she's gay!" I immediately recognized how painful & difficult it is to play the part of "friends" in public and the sense of doom that comes with realizing you're in love with a girl while closeted. If you've never had that experience, I envy you. How we treat people we're in love with isn't really planned out, it's automatic. Trying to catch that & substitute "friendly" behavior when you don't even know HOW to be her friend is very hard. It's hard to not feel insecure when the woman you love treats you like a friend, too. It's hard to hide the love and the pain if you wear your heart on your sleeve. In short, it's torture. A unique torture you can only really describe or recognize if you've experienced it. I have, and immediately knew Taylor had too.

As soon as this clicked I immediately devoured her entire discography over & over again. For days it was all I did, starting before I got out of bed and ending when I fell asleep with a notepad on my bed listening to evermore (again). I was 100% certain she is queer before I ever Googled "Taylor Swift gay?". I didn't even know there was lore or a community at first.

I didn't just recognize her queerness because I'm queer, however. I recognized it because I'm a writer. Not by profession. By passion, I suppose. And what really made it clear was what Taylor doesn't say.

I realized I was gay when I was 14 years old and when I did I wasn't scared, I was excited. I had come to the conclusion that the entire world was just... faking it. Girls would kiss boys & go on & on about it, almost every song, movie, & book was about love, and I just couldn't relate. I had kissed more than a few boys, but I seriously did not understand. I would pretend to fit in, but it was not at all appealing to me.

Then a friend stayed the night & kissed me. A friend that I wasn't consciously attracted to at all, and yet - fireworks. Suddenly I realized that people weren't exaggerating or lying about attraction & love. I realized that the concept of attraction wasn't merely recognizing that a boy was conventionally attractive, it was attraction like two magnets pulled together. Like gravity. I wasn't broken, the world wasn't a lie, and I was fucking ecstatic about it.

But then I told some close friends and most of them immediately stopped talking to me. Some became hostile. This was around 1999-2000 in Small Town, Texas where there were no out queer people. Looking back I understand that it was just a matter of kids being ignorant and uneducated and, well, kids but at the time it was confusing. I tried to backpedal and told the friends who stayed that I was bisexual. I even tried to be bisexual (spoiler: I am not). The excitement I initially felt quickly turned to fear & I chose to hide it from anyone else.

To cope with the constant overflow of my newly-activated heart and the isolation of having no one who understands, I poured myself into poetry. I started reading Shakespeare at 11 and had read most classical works by the same age. By 14 I had multiple poems published in collections, had read every work of Shakespeare & Poe, and had memorized the Chorus to Romeo & Juliet. Using poetry to cope was kind of my brand. So cope I did.

I wrote thousands of poems. I filled binders & spirals & journals. I was always writing. Most people knew I was published young & knew I was writing like crazy, so it wasn't uncommon for other kids to read what I was working on. Sometimes they'd commission a poem from me.

The fear of anyone finding out (including my parents) meant that I had to be very, very careful with how I worded things. No she/her pronouns. Nothing that would give me away. The occasional red herring. I would be specific enough that the muse would know it was about her, but no one else would.

I almost always wrote to the muse, using "you" more than anything. Poetry is like a love letter, so it comes naturally, but it also prevented the need for gendered pronouns. I wrote that way so much I still default to it now (and I have a hard time NOT pouring my heart out to anyone I care about). I didn't realize it at the time, but my writing was inherently queer coded despite my efforts to conceal it because, well, I'm queer. Sound familiar?

There are simply some things that are upside down when you're queer & you don't even recognize it because you've never NOT been queer. Things you say straight girls wouldn't. Things you don't say that straight girls would. Straight people don't see it because they've never NOT been straight. Hell, queer men won't recognize Sapphic language because they've never been attracted to a woman OR been a woman.

There are subtle, inherent tells separate from intentional tells or flags. I didn't realize that, and neither did the kids (or adults) who read my work semi-regularly.

One day my close friend borrowed my poetry journal to catch up on what I had written. This was an especially vulnerable journal, but it was just as obfuscated as everything else. I thought nothing of it and went about my day.

Hours later, during lunch, I was outside probably bumming a cigarette off of an equally punkass kid or smoking a bit of weed from a pipe crafted out of a soda can when I heard a girl shouting my name. I left the hidden corner and walked to the main area to see a girl I didn't know walking around, calling my name loudly over and over. I called back to her, confused but glad it wasn't a teacher busting me smoking.

When we were finally face to face she confirmed that I am in fact me & I realized that she was holding my journal. She pulled me to a more secluded area, looked me in my eyes, and said "these are about girls, right?"

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck shit.

I was a sophomore. 15 years old. She was a senior. A beautiful black girl named Lovely who I only knew of because it was a small school. And here she was just... straight up asking me. No one had ever asked me before. I had never had to answer this question before. I was caught off guard & wholly unprepared for this.

The closet is an awful place when you hate lying.

So, I didn't lie. For some reason I looked right into this girl's eyes and reluctantly, fearfully, said "Yes." Then I held my breath.

But she didn't laugh at me, didn't call me a dyke, didn't preach at me. She just... fucking cried.

This lovely girl named Lovely completely broke down in front of me, a complete stranger, and I did not realize what was happening.

Turns out Lovely wasn't just lovely, she was queer. And scared. And so, so lonely. She thought she was the only one, until she heard what my poetry didn't say. She recognized the inherent queerness in my writing because she identified with it and immediately came to find me.

I consider that conversation to be one of the most pivotal, defining interactions of my life. The entire time I thought I was alone & Lovely was there. Lovely thought she was alone & I was there, and I suddenly realized coming out wasn't really about me. It wasn't about the friends and family who would reject me. It was also about being visible. Being brave. Being proud. It was about the other queer kids who thought they were the only one. The other kids who couldn't come out. With this realization, from this conversation, I found purpose.

The very next day, Lovely came to school in baggy jeans and a basketball jersey - a huge departure from the very feminine presentation she always had. We never talked about it again, just exchanged fond smiles and nods in the hallway, but she came out to some extent. I came out within a week of our conversation, and I made a conscious decision that I was going to be loud about it.

My mom was great when I came out & I knew she'd have my back. Before the word "privilege" was commonplace, I at least understood that my supportive mom gave me an advantage others didn't have. I felt like I had not only the ability but the responsibility to be visible and unapologetic.

I was a rebellious little shit. I would make out with girls in the hallway. I lined the inside of my locker with Playboy pictures. I wrote "gay" on my forehead in hot pink lipstick when I got sick of being asked if I was "fully gay".

As a result, the varsity quarterback would call me in tears to talk through his struggles with his sexuality. I knew the most popular boys all of the girls wanted were actually very in love with each other. Girls who would laugh along with their friends who called me a dyke would hook their fingers into mine when they passed me in the hallway & pull me into dark rooms at parties when no one was looking.

I became the keeper of secrets. Society makes queer people lie & uses the guilt of that "deception" to keep people closeted. We lie to ourselves, then to everyone else, then to all but a few trusted people, then even when we're out we lie on behalf of others. I still hold secrets, even for those who don't "deserve" my loyalty. It's part of it, like an unspoken code. Closeting is lying, whether we like that or not. But lying is morally neutral. Intent & impact matter.

That time of my life was hard. Teachers would treat me differently. One flat out told me I would go to hell in front of the class. Another refused to intervene when my girlfriend was physically attacked by another girl who was pissed about her dating me. The school tried, for a time, to force me to use the boys locker room so other girls wouldn't feel uncomfortable. The school tried to ban me from taking a girl to prom (even though I was taking a friend, my girlfriend's family wouldn't allow her to go with me). A group of boys chanted "1, 2, 3, 4, death to the lesbian whore" when I got to school every morning. I got in a lot of fist fights. Mostly with that group of boys. Someone broke into my locker and wrote "dyke" all over & inside of my text books in huge magic marker. I remember telling one of my teachers I couldn't read part of an assignment because of it & trying not to cry. I was preached at constantly by kids & a few teachers who saw me as an opportunity to "save a soul". I have a lot of stories.

But you know what? I got the teacher that told me I would go to hell fired. I fought back when they tried to make me use the boys locker room. When they tried to ban me from prom, I printed hundreds of pages of court rulings from cases in which schools tried to do that to other gay kids, stormed into the principal's office, dropped it on her desk and threatened her. I went to prom with my friend. And after I had graduated, my high school girlfriend (who was a grade below me) finally got to take me to hers. A gay boy I'd never met won prom king and he thanked me for it. I didn't even know him, but he knew me. I won every single fist fight. I didn't cry about the slurs written in my books in front of people & I protested when they washed it off of the front of my locker. I wanted it to be the dyke locker. I took everything they gave me with a smile & asked for more, because it showed other kids it was possible. I made myself a lightning rod for hate on purpose, because then the "less problematic" queer kids were seen in a better light. It protected them. It also made sure they knew I was there. And they came to me & I did my best to help. I chased girls & have so many stories about drunken hookups and falling in love. Wild nights & happy days.

Don't get me wrong, I fucked up plenty too. I certainly wasn't a hero, and I put myself in very real danger multiple times. There were a lot of failures & mistakes. There was a lot of pain. But it was absolutely, positively fucking worth it. Despite it all I look back on that time fondly & I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. And I'd do it the same.

That time of my life shaped who I am in every way. I'm still that punkass kid (even though I'm pushing 40 now). Still a fighter who doesn't care how much pain I endure if I'm doing the right thing. And I never would have become that person if a girl named Lovely hadn't picked up on the queer themes in my writing that I wasn't even intentionally adding. So for me, it's kind of serendipitous that the very thing that led me to becoming everything I am today is the thing that I saw & heard in Taylor. That led me to so much beautiful art, beautiful love stories, and beautiful people in the gaylor community that is so, so dear to me now.

It takes one to know one, but sometimes knowing one puts you on the path to knowing yourself.

[nayeonline]

Idolizing Imperfection: The Ancient Allusions of 'Midas Touch' - KISS OF LIFE (an essay)

I have missed writing kpop essays so much and after watching the new Kiss of Life MV, I couldn't resist doing a scene by scene (with some lyrics) breakdown of the allusions to ancient mythology - (there are lots of other modern references, especially to Britney Spears, but the ancient ones are what I will be focusing on here, believe me there is more than enough to talk about.) I don't have any official qualifications surrounding this field (yet), but I am studying classical civilization and roman literature for a qualification, and I have a long time obsession with Greek mythology especially. Obviously all of these are my interpretations, this is not a definite guide to what exactly the creative direction team at S2 Ent. were thinking about for this comeback, and if you think I missed something or have a different interpretation of one of the scenes, please let me know in the reblogs/comments.

Let’s begin with the title of the track, ‘Midas Touch’. It references the Greek myth of King Midas, who (according to Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’) after winning the favour of the god Dionysus, was granted any wish he desired. Midas chose the ability to make everything he touched turn into gold, a wish driven by greed. Midas revelled in his new found powers, but the problems arose when he realised that all food he touched would be turned to gold too - he had condemned himself to starve to death. The myth is essentially a cautionary tale about the effects of greed; Midas is a tragic hero that brought about his own suffering due to his hamartia (tragic flaw) - his blessing becomes his curse. Today, having a ‘midas touch’ means that everything you are involved with is successful, but the main association of Midas with greed still remains. In the context of the song, KOL are saying that a relationship with them, although destined to end in tragedy, would be worth it for the ‘gold’ they can bring - “위험할수록 재밌잖아” (“The more dangerous it is, the more fun it is”).  Midas may have died a tragic death, but his time alive was quite literally golden. Still, it feels slightly odd that KOL are associating themselves with someone so flawed - an idol should be the image of perfection, and in this way, the meaning of the song becomes quite subversive on a meta level. Keep this interpretation in the back of your mind, we will return to it later.

Within the music video itself, each of the four members are given solo scenes that I believe allude to different women of Greek mythology. Julie is first, depicted lying on a blush pink velvet heart with gold embellishments, shell and heart shaped boxes littered around her. The composition of the framing, as well as the beach imagery seems to allude to Boticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’, linking Julie with Aphrodite/Venus, the goddess of love. In Greek mythology, Aphrodite is seen as beautiful beyond compare, but is also often characterised as highly vain and self absorbed. After hearing that some Greeks had begun to worship the ludicrously beautiful mortal woman Psyche instead of her, (and also out of protection of her son Eros to whom Psyche was married), she sent Psyche on a series of impossible trials designed to kill her, so she could remain the most beautiful. Once again, KOL compare themselves to people in the ancient world who were famously flawed.

Natty is seen next, intertwined with glittering spider webs. This is perhaps a reference to the tale of Arachne, a mortal woman who was highly skilled at weaving. She boasted that her skills were greater than Athena herself, the goddess of handicraft (and many other things), and Athena transformed her into a spider as punishment for her hubris (excessive pride). Like the tale of King Midas, Arachne’s story also centres around a fatal flaw bringing your own downfall, and like Midas and Aphrodite, Arachne is not typically remembered fondly within Greek Mythology canon.

Perched on a half dress, half throne that resembles a peacock, Belle is seen next. Originally I wasn’t certain who was being referenced here, but after some research I believe it may be Hera, although if you have another interpretation here I would love to hear it. Hera, the goddess of marriage and fertility, queen of the gods, and wife to Zeus, is affiliated with peacocks as they are one of her sacred animals, and are said to pull her chariot like horses. Hera is also, like Aphrodite, a goddess often portrayed in a negative light in mythology, repeatedly characterised as jealous and spiteful. A famous example of this is when Hera sent two snakes to strangle Heracles/Hercules, the illegitimate son of her husband Zeus, out of spite and jealousy for the boy’s mortal mother. Whether Hera had a right to be annoyed at her husband’s repeated adultery is another discussion, but generally speaking, when Hera is in a myth, she is often the villain.

Finally, we see Haneul, perched upon a corinthian style column (we love a greek column) surrounded by severed heads on spikes, a clearly war ridden scene. This is the allusion I am the least confident about, but I think perhaps she is supposed to be Helen of Troy? Helen is famous for being the catalyst for the Trojan War (perhaps this is the war scene she sits within?), she is the ‘face that launched a thousand ships’. Depending on the source, Helen is either a victim, kidnapped by the Trojan prince Paris, or she was seduced and went willingly, abandoning her Greek husband King Menelaus. The second seems to be the accepted narrative among many Roman authors, with writers such as Martial (in Epigrams 1.62) portraying her as the polar opposite of Penelope, who was seen as the image of loyalty. As a result, Helen is commonly portrayed as disloyal and unfaithful, the opposite of what an ideal woman in the ancient world was supposed to act like.

In their group scenes, there is also SO MUCH Medusa imagery - with snakes crawling all over their faces and hissing at the camera, and half broken stone statues littered here and there. As I am sure you are probably aware, Medusa is very much a villain in the myths she is depicted in, and despite modern reevaluations of her story (that I agree with) portraying her as a victim, in the primary sources, she is essentially an evil monster for Perseus to destroy - her death marks Perseus’s ascension to hero status.

So why oh why are KOL comparing themselves to figures so flawed? In their previous releases, especially their first comeback with ‘Bad News’, the girls are depicted trying to fix injustices in society - they expose corruption in corporations, they combat casual misogyny and sexual harassment, and they call out bullying and abuse. In ‘Midas Touch’ I believe they continue their addressing of injustices and double standards, this time with a focus on the idol industry, their own stomping ground. In the kpop industry, idols are expected to be perfect in every way - beautiful, highly skilled, never controversial, and loyal to their fans. Should an idol fail to uphold these impossible standards, they are relentlessly punished, especially if the idol is a woman. Last month, Karina’s earnest apology to ‘fans’  for falling in love exposed how ludicrous the standards are to the world, and other idols like Sakura, Wonyoung, and Jennie, continue to get bullied on a daily basis for not meeting all of the bars the industry sets them. A kpop idol should be talented, but never show off, they should be beautiful and care about their looks but never be vain, confident but never egotistical, and driven by passion, not the desire for fame and money. It’s all fucking impossible, especially when what constitutes being called the second traits is utterly arbitrary and depends on how many people woke up on stan twitter and decided they didn’t like you that day. In ‘Midas Touch’ KOL calls this out by openly depicting themselves with the traits that kpop stans hate - Julie is Aphrodite, beautiful but vain, Natty is Arachne, talented but boastful, Belle is Hera, confident but jealous, Haneul is Helen, influential but disloyal, and they all are Midas, spurred on by greed instead of passion. They recognise that these accusations are unavoidable, and by reclaiming the imagery of these symbols of undesirable traits, they call out and reject the standards the idol industry places upon them. Like Medusa, they may be seen by many fans as a villain, a hurdle for their favourite groups that have more promotion and budget to overcome on their way to the top, but in actuality, they are victims of an industry desperate to mould them into products to be bought and sold. I’ve seen lots of discussion online about what KISS OF LIFE’s concept is, as it seems to vary every comeback, but after ‘Midas Touch’ I am led to believe that their concept is rebellion, against society, idol culture, and the things they deem as wrong in the world. Other groups have  done concepts similar in the past, such as LOONA in ‘Butterfly’ (you really thought I wasn’t going to bring them up at some point?? Are you new here??) but KOL is doing it explicitly, and consistently, and to me, that's very exciting. The kpop industry is ever changing, and with the foundations of the new 5th generation being established as we speak, perhaps KOL could cause it to change for the better. In summary, I am SO excited to see what they do next.

That honestly took a turn I wasn’t fully expecting at the end, but I hope you enjoyed regardless - I didn’t really talk about the actual song here, but I fucking loved it, and my full review will be part of my April monthly roundup - see previous installments on my masterlist. I encourage all of you to listen to ‘Midas Touch’ if you haven’t already, congratulations KISS OF LIFE for graduating nugudom, stream Birth by ARTMS, stan loona, and prepare for the loossemble comeback - lmk if you have any thoughts on my analysis or any other interpretations, or any topics you want me to write an essay on. cya next time ~ ari

[gellavonhamster]

assigning each straw hat pirate a knight of the round table

because I am currently obsessed both with One Piece and Arthuriana; not any kind of serious AU material, just silliness; I Wrote This for Me but You Can Read If You Like

Luffy: Arthur, not due to any similarities in characterization but purely on the functional level - the boy king, the inspirational leader and, as Sun God Nika, a mythical figure believed to return when people need him the most

Zoro: Lancelot, the perfect warrior who embodies that post that's like "it's not my fault that my love language is acts of service and all I know how to do is kill". There is no Queen Guinevere here, so all the undying devotion is aimed at the king instead. Canonically has massive tits. Mihawk is thus implied to be the Lady of the Lake, and I think that's hilarious

Nami: hear me out: Kay. Sharp-tongued, rather cynical, but loyal to a fault to his king/adopted little brother. Nami as part of the Coward Trio vs. Kay being unlucky on quests and generally the butt of the joke. Isn't known to be a great warrior but occupies an important position (navigator vs. seneschal) that keeps the ship/court going. Besides, looking from the opposite direction, I just think Kay deserves to be the hot girl

Usopp: Usopp, sweetie, I'm so sorry, but I gotta say Tristan. Because Tristan is constantly lying about his identity in the most ridiculous manner possible and it somehow works. That part in Le Morte d'Arthur when he's asked what his name is and goes "Tramtrist" and no one suspects a thing even though "Tramtrist" is just "Tristram" with syllables switched around has big Sniper King energy. Also, can't forget the beautiful blonde healer girlfriend

Sanji: oh, that's the easiest one. Gawain. The Maidens' Knight, the ladies' man, a great warrior and one of the king's closest and most trusted men. If you put together Gawain's characterizations from different texts, from SGATGK to Le Morte to the Vulgate & Post-Vulgate to Chrétien de Troyes to everything, you end up with a contradictory character who is simultaneously the best and the worst guy you'll ever meet, which is how I often feel about Sanji, tbh. Would totally fight at a tournament on behalf of a little girl. Has some kind of an epic gay thing with Lancelot

Chopper: Yvain. Son of a sorceress - ah, pardon, a woman of science; associated with animals; known to be nice and kind (the Vulgate Cycle describes him as the one "whose heart will be filled with every kindness"). Occasionally goes insane in the woods (Monster Point), but, like, who doesn't

Robin: try as I might, I can't pull any direct parallels out of my ass, but I do think that narratively she can be seen as kind of a quasi-Mordred. Since her very childhood she was proclaimed to be bad news and expected to eventually cause a catastrophe, but where Mordred, whom no one tries to persuade the prophecy doesn't define him, ends up becoming exactly what he's expected to become, Robin has people who support her and trust her even after witnessing her be the bad guy in the past, so she never becomes the evil others expect her to turn into

Franky: Sagramore the Desirous (or the Unruly, depending on the text/translation) is a big, strong, good-natured knight who probably has low blood sugar needs to have a snack after fighting because otherwise he'll pass out, much like a certain cyborg needs his cola. In the Post-Vulgate, he and Mordred were raised together, which can be linked to Frobin's fates being intertwined since childhood, because I've Connected the Dots (you didn't connect shit)

Brook: I wanted to pick a character of the older generation who nevertheless isn't a mentor figure to Arthur, and I struggle to think of a better option than Pellinore - not the predatory piece of shit in the medieval texts, but the eccentric but loveable old man in Camelot (1967). Brook is also on a quest focused on an extraordinary beast! Only he's not hunting it, he's trying to get back to it because that beast is his friend 🥺

Jinbei: I honestly don't remember if he counts as the Knight of the Round Table, but I am hereby appointing him Ector - Arthur's adoptive father and one of the nicest parental figures in Arthuriana (and probably one of the nicest people in Arthuriana, period). I've also considered Galehaut for the "(partially) non-human ruler who allies himself with Arthur" angle, but that would imply Jinbei/Zoro and I'm not ready to deal with that.

[antitransmasculinityexists]

I really love this video and I'm not coming for this creator at all. I think she did a great job talking about this topic.

But at the same time it's frustrating to see her at one point say that people don't obsess over why trans men are the way we are in the way that they obsess over trans women's identities. That isn't true. People make the same assumptions about trans men. That we're running from being lesbians, or that otherwise it's a fetish. A lot of people are disgusted by overt masculinity in afabs and want to push us back into femininity with similar tactics to what she describes.

People might accept some level of "tomboyishness" from afabs, but they expect us to grow out of it and for it to be subtle, not overt. Sports are fine, but when you step too much into the masculine role and appearance, you start making people uncomfortable. Transphobes don't actually want us to be masculine lesbians, because that also makes them uncomfortable. They want us to stop being trans.

I think her own identity as a trans woman means she's most exposed to transmisogyny, the hatred and stereotyping and assumptions made about transfems, and less exposed to anti transmasculinity, the hatred and stereotyping and assumptions made about transmascs. It's perfectly understandable, given her position, that she would make this assumption. But it's still frustrating to see the erasure of ways people are bigoted toward us in similar ways.

My criticism is only of a few small statements she makes. Definitely watch this video to hear her talk about her experiences as a trans woman. She seems lovely.

I ultimately relate to her a lot. We've been through such equal and opposite experiences. Having trans solidarity is so important for highlighting what we have in common, and for being understanding toward each other in our differences.

[yanderes-galore]

yan Beth (Rick and Morty) romantic concept?

While I primarily write Rick and Morty (the characters) I really do like Beth so here you go, probably the only Beth yandere thing to exist to go with the Jerry one.

Yandere! Beth Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Drinking due to stress, Obsession, Rebounding implied, Manipulation, Dubious relationship, Violence, Murder mentioned, Kidnapping, Fear of abandonment, Divorce briefly mentioned.

Beth is a character of many flaws yet isn't all bad.

She's normally a very compassionate and caring character when it comes to her family.

Although Beth is shown to be a very insecure woman who has been lonely in her life due to Rick's neglect.

Beth is similar to Rick, her father, in some traits.

She drinks when stressed and tends to have a superiority complex to hide her insecurities.

Like with the Jerry concept, this would take place after their divorce situation.

Beth needs someone to lean on by this point due to her high stress level after being abandoned.

I forgot to mention it is canon that Beth had abandonment issues... which would feed into her obsession.

During this time I feel Beth would need a darling who wishes to help her through hard times.

A close friend of hers maybe, one that managed to stick around despite her oddities.

Beth and Jerry may have similar darlings in this situation, as in someone who tries to help them out, but they act different.

Jerry is a pathetic yandere who worships you for helping him out, completely believing fate brought you here.

I feel for the most part Beth is caring towards you.

She's sweet to you and you get along, maybe sharing a drink with each other as you help her through her divorce.

Beth seems like for the most part she's considerate and very nice to be around.

But due to being Rick's daughter I feel deep down she may be influencing things behind the scenes.

She may feel like you need each other but not in the way you think.

Her insecurities tell her she needs you.

Her superiority complex created to hide such insecurities may make her think you deserve someone like her, that you need her.

I feel Beth would be good at manipulation similar to Rick, but she hides it.

She makes everything seem like it's natural yet she does have some sort of influence.

Beth doesn't want her darling to leave her so she'll plant little things in the way she talks to keep you interested.

She may do bribes or positive reinforcement.

I can also see her acting pathetic to keep you beside her.

She makes it seem like she's genuine and puts everything up front.

In reality she does hide things from you.

Beth is a yandere that would kidnap and murder but she makes it seem like she wouldn't.

She is still Rick's kid, it's pretty much inherited.

Beth would do nearly anything for you.

She's a family woman and wants to appeal to you as much as she can.

What scares Beth more than anything is the idea of her darling leaving her.

This fear is what drives her obsession and would make her do whatever she feels is needed to keep you.

Thus, she'd kill others around you and kidnap you.

I feel she is capable of murder but holds off.

She prefers to kidnap and try to coax you and her into being together if you ever tried to leave.

If you stay by her and say you love her when she confesses, she'd probably won't kidnap you at all.

She only does so when she feels stressed about losing you.

Beth isn't really a stalker.

She likes to be as close to you as possible and just feels comfort in your warmth.

If you ever tried to leave she'll make you regret your decision.

Either by making you feel bad or doing something that scares you into compliance.

Beth appears to be a yandere who puts up acts to get you to adore her with subtle manipulation...

If that doesn't work then she'll resort to more twisted means of earning your affections, she's more like Rick than you think.

[gingerylangylang1979]

How Colorism fuels BW/WM swirls in media

I guess this is maybe a counterpoint/companion post to this one and the dialogue started with @theonlyamazingtazmin in the comments.

That post was an ask that black women set personal boundaries around how the ship and media about the ship is effecting our well being. But an equally important conversation is why do we so often have to look to interracial couples for a well written romance for dark skinned black women. While I'm cautious about the level in investment in these pairings, I cannot deny the appeal and why it's almost a default because of how much romance for dark skinned black woman is gate kept.

My initial remedy to this frustration of how we attach ourselves to this pairing was, we need to watch and support black romance and and black tv shows and movies. But a lot of the problem is in doing just that. I watched mostly black shows in my youth and the pattern was already established of me always seeing the dark skin woman alone or butch while the lighter girls had their pick.

My favorite show as a teen was A Different World. And as ground breaking as that show was in many respects I do have to call out the paradigm it reinforced. Dwayne was obsessed with Whitley, the whitest looking woman shown on campus, and he was the darkest man shown on campus. Ron liked her best friend, Millie, a light skin girl, after that wasn't a thing it was like so crazy that he ended up with Jaleesa. His mom (the fab Patti LaBelle) kept telling him to get with the dark skinned girl with the pretty teeth, but it was like he resisted vehemently beforehand. He does, but then ends up with biracial Freddy and Jaleesa ends up with an old man and becomes a stepmom as her best option.

Back when I had HBO (I only pay for one subscription at a time and my current roommates decided to do the Disney+ package, but I only end up watching Hulu) I watched Insecure but didn't finish. I'm curious to see what happened romantically with the characters. Did they follow the same playbook? I don't want to be spoiled because I hope to continue that show one day, so please don't tell me. But I remember in the precursor to this show, Awkward Black Girl, Issa's love interest was a like pretty average, kinda lame white guy. Her black crush never panned out. I kind of rooted for her and white boy but like not that enthusiastically. I just wanted her to be loved, so tried to be into it, but honestly was like, is this her best option? I didn't finish because it frustrated me that he was her best option. Personal note: I need to finish an Issa Rae show.

Fast forward to literally as of yesterday. I started watching Queen Sugar (Hulu tries to represent black shows and movies but the selections aren't the best, if anyoen has recs, please share) because I said I want to watch more black entertainment like I did in my youth. The most recent try before this was Atlanta and I just wasn't impressed. Come to find out how douchey Donald Glover is about black women and got turned off. Anyways, I did get invested in QS after a few episodes and even cried. So what turned me off a bit and I hope doesn't put me off the show? Spoiler alert: The darkest woman, Nova, is a white cop's mistress. This isn't revealed right away. It opens with them having a sensual morning after but for some reason despite him being hot, I felt ick. Like, I predicted there was something ick coming, and sure enough she's the long term side piece. Her fine af dark skinned brother's ex is a light skinned woman and there seems to be a mild flirtation with his son's Latina teacher. The light skinned sister is married to a man about her skin tone. The aunt who is medium skin tone has a husband darker than her. So it kind of reinforced the colorism and that Nova's only option out of everyone else has to be a white man, and a white man that can't fully commit to her at that.

Now, let me jump back to why I got so invested in Richonne. I know some people probably like does this girl only hardcore ship traumatized curly haired blue eyed white men with dark skinned black women? Not intentionally, haha! But that was the most epic love story I've seen with a black woman who looks anything like me. I wasn't even expecting to ship anything on that bleak ass show. Not my fault. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough? But yeah, when I reached my adult years I kind of got tired of looking for the romance I wanted to see, that represented me, in black media and being disappointed. Because the dark skinned girls didn't get the same love as the lighter ones (or they are lesbians but that's a whole other post). I'm not saying white media isn't guilty. It's just white media when they tend to give a dark skinned black woman a romance it's with a white man if she isn't alone or a lesbian, just like black shows, but the romance tends to be deeper if it's main plot point, or at least that's what I see in Richonne and Carmy x Sydney.

I think there is a good and bad side to this. On one hand yes, give it to me. On the other is it only palatable for a dark skinned black woman to get love in a show with a mixed cast with a white man because there is still and aversion to black love for these women? It's so complex. This is why when I wrote my Syd and Carmy fic I intentionally made her ex a dark skinned black man. Carmy is mad jealous of him. It's not a real love triangle, he just frames it as one because he's insecure of her highly successful, young Idris Elba looking almost fiance, who her dad loves and is a family friend. So, of course Carmy is in his feelings. Although Syd dated white guys I didn't want the strongest competition to be another white guy. And I have Syd speak to the lameness of these other white men on purpose, on multiple occasions. She was always kind of chasing a Carmy replica but not because they were white, it's because he imprinted on her. But she chased trying to be with her ex just as hard, but for different reasons and in a different way.

Anyways, I don't even know what to expect from media at this point because often what we see onscreen does reflect reality. I'll describe myself. I'm a petite, slim curvy girl, cocoa complexion, kinky curly who often gets that "so pretty for a black girl" type compliment in the black community and from racist white people. My dating history has been mixed and mostly white (two Asians also in the mix) in my latter years by default. When I was in high school the few black boys (I went to a mostly white school) chased the white, Latina, or light skinned girls. And the few that were interested were not desirable trouble makers. One was so bad he verbally abused me in front of people consistently and then I found out he had a crush one me. No thanks, red flags galore. The first somewhat decent boy that was interested and actually knew me was my white boy best friend who tried to make a move one day. I wasn't interested, didn't see it coming, but it started a pattern. I just wanted to be his bestie because we were both film geeks, had family trauma, were loners, smoked weed, and were in theater together. It's so funny because he was a dead ringer for Leonardo Dicaprio and all the white girls swooned for him and I was like eh (never thought Leo was all that). So, no, I didn't view him as a prize romantically. But this same type thing continued with white guy friends secretly having a crush and me like not being that excited. But one day I did like one, gave it a try, and was like, ok cool, I can try this. And since then I get way more interest from white men than black men.

*Caveat, I'm currently single and don't think race has any influence on quality of men. My long term Asian ex was the worst boyfriend of my life and I'm still traumatized. Long story.

So should I be this surprised that media reflects my same experience? I don't know what the solution is going forward. Like, will media change and influence society or does society need to change to influence media?