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felix-lupin · 1 year

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In Coraline, there’s a recurring theme with names and identity, and I personally don't think it's talked about enough.

(As a note, this is dealing largely with the book, not the movie, although there are some hints of this theme in the movie as well)

Coraline’s neighbors constantly get her name wrong, calling her “Caroline” and not “Coraline”, to which she persistently corrects them. Despite her attempts, they never get it right, until chapter 10, in which Mr Bobo (Mr Bobinsky) finally gets it right.

"It's Coraline, Mister Bobo," said Coraline. "Not Caroline. Coraline." "Coraline," said Mr Bobo, repeating her name to himself with wonderment and respect. "Very good, Coraline."

It should be noted that, until this chapter, Coraline did not know Mr Bobo’s name either. In fact, it had never even occurred to her that he had a name. Up until then, she had just been thinking of him as “the crazy old man upstairs”, not as a person with a name. This moment, with her learning his name and him getting her name right, is a moment of genuine understanding and connection between the two, humanizing them both to each other.

Coraline’s other neighbors get her name wrong, which is representative of them not listening when she says anything, really, such as her telling Miss Spink and Forcible that her parents are missing and them literally not even acknowledging it at all??

"How are your dear mother and father?" asked Miss Spink. "Missing," said Coraline. "I haven't seen either of them since yesterday. I'm on my own. I think I've probably become a single child family." "Tell your mother that we found the Glasgow Empire press clippings we were telling her about. She seemed very interested when Miriam mentioned them to her." "She's vanished under mysterious circumstances," said Coraline, "and I believe my father has as well." "I'm afraid we'll be out all day tomorrow, Caroline lovely," said Miss Forcible. "We'll be staying with April's niece in Royal Tunbridge Wells."

Mr Bobo gets her name right after being corrected (only after being corrected alongside her using his name, mind you, showcasing her making an effort to listen to and understand him as well), which is representative of him actually making an attempt to listen and understand her. This point is further illustrated by a conversation Coraline had with the Other Mr Bobo in chapter 10.

As Coraline entered he began to talk. "Nothing's changed, little girl," he said, his voice sounding like the noise dry leaves make as they rustle across a pavement. "And what if you do everything you swore you would? What then? Nothing's changed. You'll go home. You'll be bored. You'll be ignored. No one will listen to you, not really listen to you. You're too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don't even get your name right."

He equates those in the real world not getting Coraline’s name right with them not listening to her, and fundamentally not understanding who she is. So, somebody getting her name right, then, shows them actually listening to her, and being willing to understand who she is.

The mice in the real world know more than they should be able to know, and they also get Coraline’s name right.

"The message is this. Don't go through the door." He paused. "Does that mean anything to you?" "No," said Coraline. The old man shrugged. "They are funny, the mice. They get things wrong. They got your name wrong, you know. They kept saying Coraline. Not Caroline. Not Caroline at all."

They seem to know about the other world, somehow, on some level, and the dangers it presents. Them getting her name right represents them knowing more than they should know, more than they are told. Animals in general seem to have this type of quality in Coraline, actually.

The cat does not have a name. It says so in chapter 4, that cats do not need names. It says that this is because cats know who they are. But humans need names, because they do not.

"Please. What's your name?" Coraline asked the cat. "Look, I'm Coraline. OK?" The cat yawned softly, carefully, revealing a mouth and tongue of astounding pinkness. "Cats don't have names," it said. "No?" said Coraline. "No," said the cat. "Now, you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names."

The cat shook its head. "No," it said. "I'm not the other anything. I'm me." It tipped its head on one side; green eyes glinted. "You people are spread all over the place. Cats, on the other hand, keep ourselves together. If you see what I mean."

This shows that, in humans, names are connected to our identities and who we are. Names are used to individualize and distinguish ourselves from each other. But cats do not need names to recognize each other, or be recognized.

"Oh. It's you," she said to the black cat. "See?" said the cat. "It wasn't so hard recognising me, was it? Even without names."

With or without names, it is still the same cat.

During the Other Miss Spink and Forcible’s performance, in chapter 4, they begin quoting Shakespeare. The specific quotes that they use are interesting to me when looked at under this lens of the importance of names, especially Miss Forcible’s.

"What's in a name?" asked Miss Forcible. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"I know not how to tell thee who I am," said Miss Spink to Miss Forcible.

Now, of course, this is just them quoting Shakespeare. But. Why these quotes specifically? They’re at the very least notable when discussing Coraline’s recurring theme of names. Especially the quote about the rose. It makes me think of what the cat said earlier, about how cats are sure of who they are so they don’t need names, about how Coraline didn’t need the cat’s name to be able to recognize it for who/what it was.

But, of course, this does not apply for humans. We need our names to be able to know ourselves, to be able to tell others who they are.

In chapter 6, Coraline wakes up and is disoriented. This disorientation is compared to the feeling one might experience upon being suddenly pulled out of a daydream. In this comparison, forgetting one’s name is equated with forgetting who one is and where one is.

Sometimes Coraline would forget who she was while she was daydreaming that she was exploring the Arctic, or the Amazon rainforest, or darkest Africa, and it was not until someone tapped her on the shoulder or said her name that Coraline would come back from a million miles away with a start, and all in the fraction of a second have to remember who she was, and what her name was, and that she was even there at all. Now there was the sun on her face, and she was Coraline Jones. Yes.

The ghost children have also forgotten their names, and with it most of who they were. In chapter 7, when Coraline is locked behind the mirror in the Other World, one of the ghost children says that names are the first things that one forgets after death.

"Who are you?" whispered Coraline. "Names, names, names," said another voice, all faraway and lost. "The names are the first thing to go, after the breath has gone, and the beating of the heart. We keep our memories longer than our names. I still keep pictures in my mind of my governess on some May morning, carrying my hoop and stick, and the morning sun behind her, and all the tulips bobbing in the breeze. But I have forgotten the name of my governess, and of the tulips too." "I don't think tulips have names," said Coraline. "They're just tulips." "Perhaps," said the voice sadly. "But I have always thought that these tulips must have had names. They were red, and orange-and-red, and red-and-orange-and-yellow, like the embers in the nursery fire of a winter's evening. I remember them."

The ghost children may have their memories, but they have largely forgotten who they were. They may remember their tulips, and certain strong memories, but there is very, very little left of them, and they have forgotten who they once were, they have forgotten their names.

"That is why we could not leave here, when we died. She kept us, and she fed on us, until now we're nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider-husks. Find our secret hearts, young mistress."

"She will take your life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten."

The Other Mother stole their hearts and their souls and their selves. She stole who they were away from them, their identities and names and the names of those they loved, leaving nothing in her wake.

The same ghost that talked about the tulips and the names of the tulips struggles to answer when Coraline asks their gender, as well, and when they do eventually give an answer they seem somewhat unsure of it, as shown by the word choice of “perhaps” and “I believe”

"A boy, perhaps, then," continued the one whose hand she was holding. "I believe I was once a boy." And it glowed a little more brightly in the darkness of the room behind the mirror.

(I personally take this quote, specifically it "glow[ing] a little more brightly" after coming to this conclusion, to mean either that the ghost is happy at realizing that he was once a boy, or even to mean that he has become somewhat more tangible upon this realization; upon remembering something about his self, and his identity.)

As an aside, it's noteworthy to me that we never learn the Other Mother’s true name. She is simply “The Other Mother” and “The Beldam.” Never is an actual name applied to her, only titles. We do not truly know who, or what, she is. Beings without names are shrouded in mystery (or should i say mist-ery). The ghost children are benevolent mysterious beings, the cat is an ambivalent-leaning-helpful mysterious being, and the other mother is a distinctly malevolent mysterious being.

"Who are you?" asked Coraline. "I'm your other mother," said the woman.

"She?" "The one who says she's your other mother," said the cat. "What is she?" asked Coraline. The cat did not answer, just padded through the pale mist beside Coraline.

But in conclusion, names in Coraline are extremely important. I’m sure there’s probably more that I'm missing, and feel free to add onto this, but basically—

People need names to know and remember who they are, and forgetting one’s name is the first step to losing the rest of who one is. Names humanize a person; with a name, they are less shrouded in mystery, more clear.

Knowing somebody's name helps one connect to and better understand that person; it is the first step in getting to know them and see them as a full person, the transition from “the crazy man upstairs” to “Mr Bobo”. Names, to people at least, are one of the fundamental building blocks of who we are.

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souperdupes · 8 months

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So, as part of my language course, I had to give a speech in front of a bunch of teachers at my homophobic college, and me, being the rebel that I am, decided to do it on 'why aroace people deserve better representation'. The day arrived where I had to give it and I was so nervous because there were so many teachers and I was definitely not prepared. I said it and when I was done they were all silent. No questions, no claps, no nothing. Until the deputy head just said "see, they get it"

And that's how I found out that the deputy of a majorly homophobic college was, in fact, an aroace.

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #story time #like what possessed me at 3am to decide to do something worth 40% of my grade on something the school as a whole hated #I got full marks though probably because I was brave enough to do it on lgbtq #the guy before me wrote his entirely on chat GPT #and it was on why hard drugs should be legalised #so I guess the bar was set pretty low #lgbtq community #lowkey actually proud of myself

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obstinaterixatrix · 9 months

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Usopp asks sanji to write out the recipe of a favorite dish of his and let him borrow the kitchen to make it but sanji keeps Observing and Hovering

set vaguely after arlong park I guess??

—

Despite what anyone on the crew might think, Sanji isn’t actually against having other people in the kitchen. Working in a restaurant means working with a bunch of assholes who know how to sauté shit without setting themselves on fire. But while the bastards on the Baratie could barely be considered chefs, they were still—technically speaking—chefs.

He doesn’t miss the cacophony of steel and iron, of stupid banter, of order after order after order. He doesn’t miss elbowing past Patty on the way to the fridge, or heckling some dipshit’s new recipe until it’s actually worth serving, or cleaning with the geezer at the end of the day.

What he does miss is working with someone who knows how to hold a knife.

“That’s not how you fillet a fish,” Sanji says. Once he’s sure Usopp’s not in danger of accidentally cutting himself, Sanji reaches over to reposition Usopp’s hand, finger off the spine of the blade.

Usopp makes a face, probably torn between deferring to Sanji or spinning some story to brush him off. They’re still feeling each other out—it’s been a weird leap from ‘reluctant waiter and picky customer’ to ‘crewmates bound by the whims of their idiot captain.’ In the end, Usopp nods, carefully cutting into the pike while holding the knife in his new and improved posture (smart choice, less chance of losing his grip and a finger).

“You’re not cutting close enough to the—“

“Do you not want me here?” Usopp blurts out. “In the kitchen, I mean,” he clarifies, and for a second it looks like he’s going to continue, but he. Doesn’t. No backpedaling, no deflection, no convoluted over-explanation, which—isn’t Usopp supposed to lie? That’s his whole thing. Sanji knows that much, at least (but not much else).

“I’m trying to be nice,” Sanji says, eventually. To his own surprise, he means it. “If I didn’t want you here, I would’ve kicked you out.”

“…Oh.”

Usopp continues filleting the pike, and Sanji doesn’t point out the bones that are stuck in the pieces.

Alright, so, the thing is. Spending nine whole years surrounded by thugs will apparently have an impact on someone’s social skills. Which doesn’t matter with Luffy—he doesn’t really care about what Sanji says (unless it’s about food). It doesn’t matter with Zoro—Sanji doesn’t give a shit about that mosshead. And with Nami-chan, Sanji doesn’t have to think—a single glimpse of her radiant beauty is so soul-stirring that Sanji’s simply helpless against the flood of praise that springs forth ❤️

So how the hell is he supposed to talk to someone like Usopp?

Thankfully, it’s not a question Sanji has to consider for too long—Usopp clears his throat, taking the lead.

“I actually did this a lot before joining the crew,” he says, which—knife technique aside—sounds plausible.

“Yeah?”

“I must’ve grilled a thousand—no, ten thousand fish,” he continues, which sounds like bullshit. “By the time I was eight, the whole island was lining up for a taste of the great Captain Usopp’s legendary fire-grilled fish! Using spices foraged from the forest and fish caught by spear, not even the most refined palate could resist the food I poured my heart and soul into! But you see—” and here, he smiles, bright but somehow bittersweet, “I’d only cook it for my loyal crew and the princess we’d all sworn to protect.

“Now, as astounding as my own recipe was, I’m man enough to admit when I’m beat. And yours beats mine, no contest. So someday, I’d… like to cook it. For my old crew.”

It’s impressive, the way Usopp manages to be blindingly honest while lying his ass off. Sanji’s not quite sure what to make of it. If anyone else was feeding him this crap, he would’ve told them to eat shit, but…

…

“Hey,” Sanji says. “Tell me about your old crew.”

And, with a wide grin, Usopp does.

(The fish comes out fine. A little over-seasoned, but edible. They’ll work on it.)

#sanuso #sanji #usopp #my writing #one piece #ask #anonymous #I had a line like ‘Fire-grilled? How else would fish be grilled?’#but realized. I’m not confident enough to stake my life on that line as something a chef would say.#technically there’s charcoal grilling right…? hm…#anyway I wrote this in 3 hours with slapdash research into How To Perfectly Fillet A Pike #and am posting without a beta read by one piece scholars. also I never wrote these characters. also I haven’t reread one piece in years.#thanks anon that was fun #also thanks ketolic for the other prompt I’m gonna start it when it’s not 3am lol #oplb #orlbs

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anurarana · 2 months

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My frustration with Jason Peter Todd is that there is a universe out there where he was given a decades-long character arc; one where he could learn from his mistakes, and make amends where necessary, all the while still acknowledging the pain both caused by himself, his actions, his decisions, as well as the flipside, the harm he has personally lived through intentional or not.

This is a character that will always have his motives and ideology shaped by the trauma he lived through and died for, but the way it feels like current comics interact with that trauma is just one big bad event that everyone else has gotten over and yet he is never allowed to move on from. All he is ever allowed to be is the self-proclaimed black sheep, the one who died, but he's not able to deconstruct what all that meant for him, his morals and foundational beliefs as a character, because we had to shove it all aside way to quickly to make room for big happy bat family.

His entire existence feels like it is there to either serve as a punchline or surface level angst when needed. No one knows what to do with Jason anymore because they never gave him the space for real character growth when it was necessary.

I feel like I'm always like haha yeah Jason Todd, I wish he was worse. I wish he was in more pain. I wish he was alone, and he hated everyone again and vise versa. But it's more that I find his personal morals and ethics fascinating, I just wish they were properly fleshed out and given the time and consideration to evolve and expand along with his growth as a person. I want him to be wrong. I want him to fuck up, and fuck up again. His passion is what makes him interesting!!

I also want him to learn and grow into his skin without throwing away everything he stands for. That he could actually become a solid argument to the status quo that mainline comics can find themselves falling into, one that you get the sense he was originally brought back to be. But instead, he's the angry one that is insane and kills people, or swing way too hard in the opposite end, and all of his claws have been filed off— he's just a sad boy with no real poignant internal dilemmas anymore.

Idk, maybe I like the idea of a guy being able to heal over time. Maybe the idea that you are doomed to relive the mistakes of the past forever is exhausting. But what we have right now is so boring and lame that I'm out here advocating for them to just kill him off again.

#idk how to fix what we have now I think we just gotta throw the whole man away #it feels like he's just there to whine and be edgy and stand for nothing #I love jason 😭 I just want him to mean something can we let him not suck please and thanks ughh #anyways lets to back to me not caring about comics for a few months again #jason todd #batman #I wrote way too much here it is 3am if this is illegible oh well #this isn't just a jason problem too I'm the number 1 batfam hater I feel like it fucked them all up #I just unfortunately got diagnosed with jtodd brain rot when I was 10 and now I am forced to live like this

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dragoninahumancostume · 3 months

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I want to see art of Tumblr as a physical space. It's a building. The popular blogs are sitting on their thrones. The hall of fame is the reception of it because departamental building. You know when you got to a building and there are sofas on one side the receptionist in front fo the door? Imagine he sofa side is incredibly big but it's actually a library, because everyone here seems to love libraries, and each book is a famous post, but they're all disorganized entirely so they randomly appear on a table of the library and someone grabs it and says "hey look at this!" and then continue to share it; sometimes they don't share it and instead put it back in the shelf but soon it appears on a table again. Each apartment is a person and each room in them is a blog they have, and if you only have one blog? Worry not! Slider curtains or magical walls, so it's technically one room but it's made perfectly to fit you. The apartment has all accommodations needed for the person (wheel chair, painkillers, pads, tampons, you name it and it's there.) and you can have your pronouns and your name written on the door and next to it a list of the things you love the most and want to talk about with people. There are pride flags inside and outside if you want to have them. Your wardrobe is whatever you want to wear for the day; Cozy pajama? Sure! Wizard robe! There you go! Victorian outfit? Lovely! Beetlejuice cosplay? Neat!

The dash is the halls. We wander around the building whenever we leave the room. When you post something, you're just saying out loud your thoughts, and if you get notes, that's just people wandering near your apartment who happen to have heard you. Likes are people literally leaving heart shaped stickers —with the paper still on— under your door with a little note saying "I heard you saying this and I liked it". Reblogs are people hearing you, then going back to their rooms and saying "Hey I heard this and I want all of you to hear it too! Also, I may have something to add to it!". Your neighbors are your mutuals, because they can hear you more easily.

In the main hall there are, like, papers hanging on one VERY big wall. The wall has written at the very top of it "POLLS" in big font. The wall is divided in "FINISHED" and "AVAILABLE". The papers on the available side come with a pen so you can vote, but no one sees you while doing so and no one will know what you said except for you.

The asks are people sending you letters under your door. Your door is uh magical so you can say if people have to sign it or if it's okay to put it anonymous. You then proceed to read the letter out loud for everyone who passes by to hear and you answer.

The drafts is you having a thought but instead of saying it out loud you write it down, and put it on a shelf with the other drafts. Every apartment has a shelf, as high or as low as the person wants it, the color and the shape and everything is to appeal the owner of the apartment.

And uh.. I think that's it for now I can't think for much else except uh

@hellsite-detective has two types of asks. The simples ones like "Hey can you find this?" "I love what you do!" are the usual letters, the other type is the people who prefer to go ask for help themselves. They knock on the door and present the evidence for the case, trusting our dear detective.

There's so many people in here... Tumblr is pretty much a city with how many buildings there are... People can go on to other buildings and wander around too and participate if they want.

The gimmick blogs have different wardrobes in their rooms. There's the main one where they go as themselves, and there's the other where they can put on costumes and change their names.

There's also a more secluded part of the city... That's where the misfits live. Bigots, transphobes, homophobes... People who we don't want to be around, so they hide in their little corner of the city. Most know better than to interact. Those who are curious put on a custom to not be seen when they wander around, and they try not to engage.

I want to continue talking about this but I don't have any more ideas right now so please continue this if you want! :)

#is this something #how do i even tag this #I want people yo see this tbh #I've been feeling terrible lately and this hellsite (affectionate) is my escape #It literally feels like a physical place and it's so nice #When I feel bad I just come here and distract myself #i love this #hellsite #I'm sorry this is mainly just me rambling and it's 3am and I'm tired but I wanted to share #This is probably poorly written I'm sorry #long post #It was actually 2am when I wrote this but I missclicked and I don't want to write it again #i'm hungry #tumblr

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harringroveera · 5 months

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Henry had never had a proper Christmas.

Considering that he lived in a lab for most of his life and barely remembered the life he had before it, Eddie felt like it was his duty to give Henry the perfect Christmas experience.

It was also their first Christmas together, which really made this even more important for Eddie to do.

So, the first thing he did was get Henry gifts. Yes. Not just one gift. But twenty five gifts. One for each year Henry had spent Christmas in the lab.

Well, twenty-four, because the last gift wasn’t finished yet.

Eddie picked up the red bow from the bathroom sink and put it on his head.

Now it was finished.

He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, almost too giddily for his own good. Turning himself into Henry’s last Christmas present was a silly thing to do. And fucking perfect.

He left the bathroom with red ribbons wrapped entirely around his naked body. It took him nearly an hour to make him look aesthetically pleasing instead of looking like a candy cane.

Eddie shivered in the cold, but it would all be worth it once Henry unwrapped him, which would be any minute now.

Henry woke up at sharply eight every morning, and today wouldn’t be any different. Eddie was counting on Henry’s ridiculously fixed schedule to make this all work.

He prepared a giant box—already wrapped—and hauled it to their Christmas tree. Eddie grabbed the top of the box and hopped inside, nearly falling on his ass from his bare feet.

He closed the box, sitting in the darkness, and he waited.

Once the watch on his wrist beeped, he quickly turned it off as his heart raced in his ribcage. At any given moment now, Henry would come down and see the pile of gifts in the living room in the trailer, and he would definitely be surprised.

Merely a few minutes later, the light footsteps from his bedroom alerted him. A smile creeped up to his lips as the excitement filled him up.

“Eddie?”

Henry’s voice echoed from outside the box, and Eddie prepared himself as the footfalls came to a stop.

He jumped out and screamed.

“Merry Christmas!”

If anything, the look on Henry’s face was worth everything he had gone through.

His blue eyes were unblinking, pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted. Even his hair was still messy.

Henry tilted his head slightly to the side. “Are you supposed to be Santa?”

“No, duh! I’m your gift!” Eddie laughed, tearing the box apart and stepping out. He smiled when Henry’s eyes fell down to his body. “Do you like it?”

“You’re wrapped in ribbons,” Henry said, his eyes tracing every red line of silky ribbon around Eddie’s body.

“I am!”

“Because you’re my gift?”

“Yes!”

“I see.” Henry took a step forward, lifting his hand to touch the ribbon on Eddie’s head. His lips curled up. “You’re a very pretty gift.”

Eddie grinned. “Thank you. And I’m not the only gift you have too.”

“You’re not?”

“No, these are all yours!” Eddie gestured to the gifts underneath the tree and said, “I got them for you.”

“I only prepared one for you,” Henry said. “Should I have prepared more? Is there a limit as to how many gifts one can give another?”

“No, and no,” Eddie said. “Besides, I’m getting you these gifts to make up for all the years you couldn’t spend Christmas with your family.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“Well, the years you couldn’t spend with me then.” He smiled, leaning closer as he said, “So, do you want to unwrap your gift or not, Henry?”

“I’d hate to unwrap such a beautiful gift,” Henry said, hooking his finger over the ribbon around Eddie’s waist and yanking him closer. “But it’d be a shame not to.”

Henry’s lips curled up to form a smile just before he closed the distance between them. Their lips fitted perfectly together, and Eddie threw his arms around Henry’s neck, humming into the kiss.

He moaned when Henry’s hands roamed over his body, pushing him backwards until he had Eddie pressed against the edge of the kitchen. His mind was fogged with filthy urges, and he completely missed the door clicking open before them.

“Merry Christ—Jesus Christ—”

At the familiar voice, Eddie immediately broke the kiss off and recoiled behind Henry’s body as he peeked over his boyfriend’s shoulder to stare at his uncle.

His uncle, who was holding two boxes of gifts as he turned his back to them.

“Uncle Wayne! What—what are you doing here?” he said, embarrassment heating up his cheeks.

He hoped Henry’s body had somehow covered him. He hoped his uncle hadn’t seen him entirely wrapped in ribbons and getting it on with his boyfriend right in the living room.

“It’s Christmas Day, kiddo,” Wayne said, clearing his throat. “I—I thought I could come over and visit you two. Have a nice Christmas breakfast.”

“Hello, Wayne.”

“Hey, Henry, the one who’s dating my nephew.” He shuffled on his feet, seemingly too concerned to turn around and look at them. For obvious reasons. “I see that you two are busy. Maybe I can come back for a Christmas lunch?”

“Christmas breakfast is good to me.”

“What?” Eddie said softly, and Henry looked back at him.

“What?” Henry asked, bemused.

“You want to have breakfast with my uncle? I thought we were going to do something here.” He gestured between their bodies. “You have breakfast with him all the time.”

“We have breakfast with him. But this is a Christmas breakfast.”

“Well, don’t you want to unwrap me?”

“I do. I also want to fuck you.”

Eddie snorted. “That’s implied in the unwrapping part, Henry.”

His boyfriend smiled. “Telling your uncle to leave and come back at lunch seems rather rude,” Henry said. “We can always get back to this later. At night.”

He frowned, but eventually he nodded. “Okay, fine. But you better unwrap me nicely then.”

“As you wish, darling.” Henry smiled. “You probably need to change, though.”

Eddie flushed. “Right,” he said. “Uncle Wayne! We can totally have breakfast. I’ll just have to change first. Give me five minutes?”

“Yeah, sure, kid!” He gave Eddie a thumbs-up without turning around. “I’ll be right here.”

Eddie smiled, looking back at Henry. “I hope this didn’t ruin your Christmas Day experience.”

“Ruined?” Henry shook his head. “It’s perfect.”

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eggs-can-draw · 1 year

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hi dumb messy little fic thing

Silence. The boys are in a shitty car Hajime was given by the Future Foundation. One Izuto Kamukura is sleeping silently in the backseat with a Hajime-sized red hoodie draped over him haphazardly.

Things are wordlessly tense. Despite the smaller boy showing no signs of waking up anytime soon, Hajime can feel what can only be described as the watchful eye of a predator stalking it’s prey.

“…Hinata” Izuto murmured, voice cracking from a clear lack of use.

“OH uh…morning?” Hajime responded, unease creeping it's way into his tone.

“It’s 12:56”

Hajime turns to the car’s broken clock, it's cracked screen barely glowing at all, let alone displaying the time.

“How can you — oh uh, yeah”

Silence slowly gripped the small car once again, it's claws making it almost hard to breathe. That is, until Hajime once again heard a noise from the backseat.

“Is it like you wanted?”

“Huh?”

“You were in the reserve course. You mentioned you used to be fixated on talent and more specifically, your inherent lack.”

“Oh, yeah, you were watching the game with her, weren’t you”

“You would be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t watch the game.”

“Hahah yeah, Junko was… a lot of things, but she definitely seemed to have had a strong effect on others. I mean, you have Mukuro and whatever was going on there, and you have the remnants—“

“You’re avoiding the question”

“What?”

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer”

“Oh yeah uh…I guess? It’s a lot more pressure then I thought it would be” Hajime couldn't help but let out an awkward laugh, his own desperate attempt at lightening the tension that the two had been drowning in.

“Elaborate”

“Why are you so interested in this? I thought everything was boring to you, Mr. God-among-ants.”

“Those are Enoshima’s words, not mine. You intrigue me, Hinata. I want to learn more about you and your psyche.”

“How am I interesting? What, are you gonna make fun of the octagon thing?”

“You’re a fellow Ultimate Hope, it’s only natural for me to want to investigate this talent in the wild. It’s hard to use yourself as a test subject for something so rare. Be glad I haven’t decided to dissect you yet.”

“Har har, good joke mr ultimate comedian”

...

“If you’re going to ignore my initial question, I have decided to move on”

“…ok?”

“What do you think they’re going to do with me?”

“What?”

“This is the second fastest route to the Future Foundation’s headquarters. What do you believe your superiors will do when you hand me over.”

“Oh well…they’ll probably put you on trial, and hold you accountable for your crimes.”

“Despite your overall...lack of abnormality, you’re smart, Hinata. You read the reports on what the academy did to me, and you know just how many of that staff was carried over to the Future Foundation. I was built to be a weapon. Do you truly think they could allow such a powerful resource to rot in a cell?”

“Well…”

“What do you think they’ll do when they get their hands on the remnants?”

“Wh-“

“What will happen to them, Hinata?”

“I-“

“What will happen to Nanami’s friends?”

“I DONT KNOW”

Hajime didn't mean to yell but it came out that way despite his intentions.

Silence ensues. Hajime assumes that Izuto has fallen asleep and lets out a sigh. He focuses on driving them for a while. That is until he hears an odd noise come from the back seat.

“Kamukura, what—“ he looks back to find tears falling from Izuto’s face

“I’m-” His voice gets caught on the way out.

“I’m scared, Hajime”

“I…”

Hajime turned to look Izuto in the eyes, he had never before seemed so. mentally present.

“…I won’t let them hurt you”

“…”

“Or the remnants.”

Izuto looks up at him, clarity shining through his eyes for a flicker of a blink of a moment.

“I promise”

“….”

Hajime turns his attention back to the road but he finds himself struggling to focus. They sit in silence for a beat. Izuto's voice is startlingly clear as he flatly states:

“If you truly want to keep your promise, you should watch where you’re driving”

“Wh—OH MY GOD”

Hajime then sharply swerves the wheel and very VERY narrowly misses one incredibly pissed Nagito Komaeda

#eggs can art #danganronpa #makoto naegi #izuru kamukura #hajime hinata #he still HAS feeling he just struggles to recognize that #also can you hear me screaming about names #I hyperfixated on that as a child and it's still something that can make me so so so emotional #it's such a little thing that can say so so so much about someone and what you mean to them #and it's such a subtle way to communicate what someone means to you yknow #I have so many thoughts on this au that I just. Do Not Share #too scared of being cringe folks #naegamigiri is real in this au it's just. secret #kokichi exists same as naegamigiri fam au just under different circumstances purely cause I think it's cute #the NWP is still Naegi's idea it's just also Hajime's idea in this au #sneakin in his head to get the ball rollin #I wrote this in a rush at like 3am dont look too closely

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manofmanymons · 1 year

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don't look at the tags if you don't want survive spoilers

#i didn't want to make this a proper post because it's just me being depressed at 3am #but like #i know i said before the harmony route like emotionally gutted me and left me empty for like a week #but to be honest #even though obviously it made me SAD #bc of course it did #what happened to miu and even to kaito isn't what had me so fucked up for so long #it was what happened to dracmon #like #oh my god #wanting to save someone who doesn't want to be saved #watching them slowly lose themself in their grief and being able to do nothing about it #loving them so much you would willingly give up everything you are and everything you have #because at least that's something you can do #and maybe it'll help them hurt a little less #and not even being angry with them for basically killing you #then effectively dying before getting to see them come to their senses and realize they love you too #how fucked up is THAT #who WROTE that #WHY wrote that #harmony route isn't even kaito's route it is literally dracmon's #my ass coping with exam stress by thinking about things that depress me lol

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wanderingchocolateeclair · 1 year

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Pirate AU Snippet:

Because brain decided to surprise me with sudden motivation and I don’t think I’ve shared some personal writing for a while!!

It’s short but I think I’ll still put a cut-

From Tsunagu’s POV!

“Under the light of the blood moon, the curse is temporarily eroded away… revealing parts of the true person underneath. We get to feel what it’s like to live again. To need again. To…..feel….again.”

That is what they told me, read from notes that have been written over years lost to a curse and to the sea. But there’s more.

“However, it is merely an illusion. A temptation, and the curse’s darkest and cruellest trick. It shows us who we once were, how we once were. It shows us what we could be without the curse, and tempts us with viewing our life without it.”

And once the light fades, or they step out of the blood moonlight, all returns to how it is. Nothingness. Emptiness. Dead.

“It is cruel.”

Back then I would have felt pity. Sorry for those who went through this, but unable to see what it is truly like to suffer in such a way. But now…but now…….

I find myself standing in the light of the blood moon, feeling fear and rationality for the first time in months. I never noticed how much this curse has changed me. It is eroding away at me.

I’m scared.

No. That isn’t what I wished to say here. There was a light in this darkness I felt tonight. And it was from him.

For once, I saw warmth and kindness in his eyes…his voice was…soft.

For once, I saw a glimmer of a smile- a true smile- and it was at… me? A heartless man, yet his smile was so gentle.

He spoke to me, and I… I didn’t want to fight back, he was so welcoming. He took my hands- he took my hands and led me to see the stars- oh…the stars, mother, I wish you could see them.

We talked…

He held me in his hands and I felt…safe. This light shining over us, it was like we were alive… that we could feel… for a moment I thought- I thought I could hear the faint beating of his heart.

I never would have thought he’d be so kind.

Maybe the curse revealing who we are, deep down, could be a good thing. Like the deepest depths of the darkest oceans that aren’t affected by the harsh blow of the wind.

So much beauty.

So much life.

——

#bnha #eclair wrote something?!#best jeanist #hakamada tsunagu #edgejeanist #edgeshot #kamihara shinya #(technically bc Tsu is talking about him)#pirate au #eclair’s aus #pirate au my beloved #I’ll write more and actually start updating the fic soon I swear-#this will probably get put in tbh #yes Tsunagu is writing notes of what happens #he does it for fun but also as if he’s talking to his mother about it all #it is like. 3am #tumblr pls don’t eat it #have obtained green tea and like. 4 chocolate bars tho so not doing bad

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timelessbian · 2 years

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“I had, you know.” That stopped Alder in her tracks. When she turned back to look at Tally, her face was unreadable. “Thought I’d seen the last of you, I mean,” Tally said. “And then you show up here for no reason and you try to slip out without so much as a glance at me even after everything, but I guess I really shouldn’t have expected anything different, right?” ... Inspired by *that pic* from 3x09. Tally confronts Alder at the wedding and the conversation takes an...unforeseen turn.

with the way these two have been rotting my brain lately this felt inevitable. they're canon now, we'll take it from here, freeform.

#my fics #talder #tally craven #sarah alder #i literally wrote most of this at like 3am over the past few nights i am SO normal about them #anyway i am posting this and running away #and by that i mean i'm going to do something drastic to my hair to keep from refreshing the page bc the anxiety is real <3

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sacredsanguine · 1 year

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So the episode hiatus this week got me thinking...you know the side specials that were released with some of the newer blu-rays and all? One of them has INSANE lockjaw potential...and I own a keyboard and word processing software. What if Esme gave in to her real inner desires at that welcome back party for Andrey? This is transformative work, guys.

start carving, darling (nicholas x esme / lockjaw)

Nicholas laughs. It’s a sharp, cutting sound - like broken glass striking the ground. “Enoch has never gotten into the habit of playing patron, dear - he finds it debasing,” he says, swirling the wine in his glass. It’s slightly too thick to be just wine, red clinging to the glass walls briefly, before it slides down to the bottom.

Enoch’s expression is one of mild confusion, pale blue eyes flickering over Esme’s face. “We can have one of the guest rooms made up for you and Ember,” he says slowly. “Have the events of tonight so rattled you?” he asks, frowning slightly.

Esme freezes, blood going cold and colder still when Nicholas laughs. Her cheeks redden, flush staining her throat as she bites her tongue to stay the thorny anger longing to lash back at Nicholas.

Nicholas lays his hand on the crook of Enoch’s elbow, gold rings glittering. “If you were hoping to warm his bed - you’re in short luck there, darling,” he says, drawling out the petname’s syllable. “But if you only want to be near, then I’m sure we can find a spare bedroom to tuck you and that little creature in.” HIs voice drips in condescension, nails digging slightly into Enoch’s arm: only placated when Enoch lifts his hand from beneath Esme’s to bring Nicholas’ to his mouth to press a kiss over his wedding ring.

Esme bristles at the petname, fingers clenching on empty air as Enoch moves his hand away. Rage flashes crimson over Esme's face, chin lifting icily to meet Nicholas and his condescension with eyes like lightning, voice all venom: "Do you have to remind me what your function is so desperately? One might make assumptions."

Her hand, lifeline traced red with Taran's blood, closes around Nicholas's wrist, grip tight as his had been around hers at the beach, weeks ago. The wine in his glass sloshes but she doesn't manage to tip his hand far enough to spill any.

"You must work so hard for the warmth," Esme hisses, eyes boring into Nicholas. "To make up for the rings and the debasement, darling."

He flexes his fingers - uncharacteristic: lure or warning? - and Esme grips harder, crimson-glazed nails digging into pale skin; satisfaction gleams over his red-stained mouth for one stuttering heartbeat before Nicholas flicks the side of his wineglass with a nail shimmering viridian - the chime of it rings out fragile in the air before he pinches it until it cracks, a jagged triangle falling and shattering into sparkles on the floor between their feet.

The hand that had cracked it from the rest of the glass seizes Esme's free hand, squeezing hard enough to crack something audibly. She snarls and pulls back, to no avail. Nicholas presses the broken wineglass to Esme's mouth, slotting the rim between her lips; she jerks her head away and he presses forward again, grip tightening again on her hand and pulling her back, jagged glass notching at the corner of her mouth.

Her jaw tenses, muscles ticking like she wants to bite another shard off and spit it at Nicholas. His smile is all teeth and sharper than the edge slicing into her skin, forcing her lower lip out into a pout under the glass.

"You and your fixation on what belongs to me. I suppose you've been a lucky little brat until now, using that pretty face of yours to get whatever you're desperate for." Nicholas rolls the stem of the glass between his fingers, rotating the rim ever so slightly - Esme's nails cut furiously into his arm to stop him, thumbnail rocking up a hairsbreadth to the taut rope of his tendon as a sound of pained fury rolls from her throat, muffled by the glass. Blood trickles down both their skins, hot and thick.

"You will ask for permission to drink from me. And when I am done with you and your greedy, impertinent mouth, you will thank me for my grace."

Esme's eyes narrow. Her fingernails earn themselves a richer scarlet French tip on their undersides, drawn from Nicholas's veins - his eyes flash and he twists his bleeding wrist, slashing the skin of her cheek asunder even as her nails rake his arm open.

"It hurts more if you cry, dear. Salt in the wound," Nicholas says, something vicious in how casually he says it, shot through with a wire of deeply sadistic amusement. Esme's eyes are glossy with tears of pain and anonymous emotion, her voice a hiss, a promise, anything but a plea.

"Please."

Nicholas pauses, fingers flattening on the stem of the wineglass as though he's about to twirl it again - when Esme's eyes dart there from his face, he raises his hand, tipping the wineglass so its contents slosh forward.

Esme chokes once on wine and the short scream that dies in her throat at the slap of it on an open wound before she's tipping her head back enough to accommodate the glass and flood alike, throat bared to Nicholas, frail column convulsing as she swallows.

Her eyes burn into his, gold and emerald searing and seared in return. The blood spilled has gone cold, but the heat of their hands on each other is unspeakable.

"Thank you," Esme growls, teeth bared and edged against the glass like she might really snap it. The fire of wounds tearing a little further sings. Nicholas's expression doesn't change and neither does the position of the glass.

"Shame your face really was the only thing remotely of use. You do not decide when I am done with you."

#look don't ask me why the malrics/enoch/everybody were just standing there. idk. it's the vibes alright. enoch was petting ember.#lockjaw #written in nectar #((meta meta tags: i wrote this at like 3am and did not edit lmao if there's something egregious dm me))#TW: heavy blood and violence

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watersofblueisland · 2 years

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Your love, Your love will destroy me Is it really destruction if it's your fingers wrapped around the sword? Is it not a flower garden for me to find an eternal peace and forsake my hurt?

My love, My love will destroy you Is it too much to withhold you from a world that doesn't deserve to know you're special? Is it too much to want your love no matter platonic, romantic, astral or criminal?

Your love, Your love will destroy me Does it really matter how the world pulls us apart when my palm aligns with yours? Does it really matter that there's no way out if I still have you behind those fatal doors?

My love, My love, you will destroy me, My love, you gave me life, My love, you are everything beautiful and not, My love, I love you a lot, My love, your love will destroy me, My love, I will let your love destroy me

My love, Please destroy me.

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homer-lol · 7 months

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terrified

I’m like a blackhole. I’m unbearably hungry. I am fire. I will burn you, and me and everything I love in search of something that doesn’t exist. I’m hungry for love, I’m hungry for knowledge, I’m hungry for recognition and respect. I am hungry. If you aren’t careful, I’ll eat you alive. This fire will never go away. It’s already scarred me beyond belief. So don’t come near me.

I’m scared I’m not doing enough. I’m scared I’m doing too much. I’m scared I’m wasting my youth. I’m scared. I don’t wanna do this anymore. I’m hungry and I’m afraid I’ll eat myself too. All the flesh, blood and bones. All the crushed dreams and the half-written fantasies and the fears and the worries and the hopes and the. I’m hungry for blood. I want to bleed until I’m so pale you can’t recognise me.

#writblr #i wrote something #spilled thoughts #3am feelings #3am thoughts #idek anymore #writing #delete later #late night #why do i do this to myself #why am i like this #idk

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hecate-fem · 8 months

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I’ve handed in a piece of workshop material two days late and I feel awful about it because we’re meant to workshop it tomorrow and agh

#I don’t really know how this happened I got really stressed then started procrastinating #then my brain wouldn’t work and I couldn’t get anything on the goddam page #and now I’ve handed it in at nearly 3am and I want to sob because I feel so guilty for dropping the ball on this #and other things #I’ve been dropping the ball on so much stuff and it’s only been three weeks of classes #I wanted to try something new but it wasn’t working and I couldn’t make myself hand it in like that so I ended up handing in a #piece that I wrote last year but never did anything with #diary post #so I’m also acutely aware of the time I’ve wasted and how unnecessary this all was #and I don’t want to sleep even though I’m tired #because I am stressed and guilty and now I’m ranting in the tags #things are going well obviously #I’ve also got an assignment coming up that’s stressing me out #because I want to do it early #but my stupid brain isn’t letting me do anything that requires thinking and effort #and I hate it

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arlertwhore · 1 month

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pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige shows you how that strap game is and you fall in-love.

warning (s): smut, kinda virginity loss, strap, oral, fingering, nipple sucking, penetration, kinda fluffy and kinda cute, hair pulling.

word count: 3.7k

author note: based off req again, unedited again, wrote very late at night, ty for the support once again!! MINORS DNI

Whenever Paige & you texted, on the rare occasion, it was typically

inquires on scheduling, clothes that were left behind, or silly videos you found funny enough to share with Paige, your only companion with a foolish sense of humor alike you. Your Uni Friends were far too serious to handle your actual humor, and in the groupchat, all

that would be shared amongst you guys were academically humor-ous videos. You enjoyed being able to send Paige anything, even if it had the most crass, offensive, abrasive humor behind it. That's how you saw it when you sent her what you sent her, but Paige couldn't lie, she didn't expect you to be this forward. Readying herself to reply sweetly to your Tiktok or Reel or whatever since it was a rare thing, in the midst of practice, thankfully on a break and away from her team, she had opened your texts to a picture of your Amazon cart, showing you had purchased a big strap-on dildo.

It was either she left you on opened, speechless, or expressed her truest thoughts.

Paige replied: ?

Paige replied: 70$🤨 Is this why you've been working extra-lately?

You chuckled, on your break at work, replying: caught me 😊

You bit your lip: excited p?

Later that night, she called you to follow up on the details. "You got that for me?" She was treating this entire ordeal like a kid before a talent show, nervous and wanting to perform their best. "Paige, I'm hoping you aren't seriously calling me at 3AM on a Monday to ask me why I wanna use a strap with you." you groaned, having just got done with your nightly routine and being nearly asleep when she phoned you. "You're a grinch when you're tired," Paige teased, "I'm just making sure you're not asking me to use this because I can't satisfy you or sum." If only she knew how many sleepless, stressed-from-school-and-work, horny nights you had, trying to conjure her face in your mind, replicate her finger-work to no avail. That was actually how you got the idea for the strap. While browsing on her TikTok, trying to find something hot to help you stick the image in your mind, you had seen a video of her dancing with KK, and she had done a thrust dance motion that was so incredibly smooth it made you feel butterflies. You wanted to experience it for yourself now.

"Paige!" you exclaimed, "You're so annoying, Paige, oh my gosh! Of course it's not like that, I just like fucking you and I wanna try new things. Don't you? We could take turns with it and it could be so fun and-"

"FUCK no!" Paige chortled, a chuckle escaping her lips, "I'll let you and this attitude go back to sleep, but tomorrow you're getting it fucked out of you," she declared. "Yeah, whatever, Peanut Butter," you retorted. "Mhm, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll be jelly." she quipped in a genuine attempt to flirt, and you burst out laughing. She was so cute and unintentionally funny sometimes.

You couldn't have been more grateful for Amazon-Prime Shipping and the power of sleep and your busy schedule, because before you knew it, it was the next day and you had been post-gym, post-shower, and in your towel preparing for Paige's arrival when the door had been knocked. Happy, you rushed from your bedroom out to the front door of your apartment, and you yanked it open. "Isn't this perfect, P!" you rambled as she entered, undoing her laces and kicking her shoes off. "Finished all my schoolwork at work, just got back from the gym, and just finished showering, and now you're here." Paige chuckled lightly. "Don't get too excited. Let me shower first. That game today was tough, yo, St. Jackson didn't let up."

"Yeah, whatever, Paige, just hurry up," you said at her snail-like speed, placing her backpack on the rack and stretching. You hurriedly began to undress her, eager, and her much taller frame gently and playfully pushed you away. "Get outta here," she said, smacking your butt as you teetered away, giggling, obliging.

After she had finished showering, she entered your bedroom, both of you in your towels as you presented her with her gift. "Ta-da!" you chorused, "Need a YouTube tutorial or step-by-step." you quipped, playfully.

Paige's face turned serious. "Y/N," she began, as if she had just come to an epiphany, "isn't this gonna be your first time with something this size?" You nodded, eyebrows furrowed, wondering why she would look so concerned. "So?"

"So, this might hurt... like how it would with a... you know," you guys refrained from saying the g-word. And though you hadn't seen it that way, technically, Paige was about to take your virginity on a random Monday night.

"Oh," you replied, "I mean, I'm not the kind to back down from a challenge." you tried to humorously brush it off, but Paige was still extremely serious. "No, really, are you sure? I don't mind having a chill night or something," she insisted, knowing that in reality, if you guys had a chill night just hanging out, she might fall for you even harder. Heck, to be the first person inside you—the very first—was gonna cost her even more feelings of limerence for you. You pressed your lips into a flat line. Your next words, though meant in a literal way, made Paige's heart flutter. "If not you, then who else?"

Girls, even g-words, loved Paige, and she was very popular. She had a wide variety of people ready to have something with her, and you knew that the only reason she was with you was because everybody else was too invested and demanding. This year, at uni, you had finally found an identity. You had a demanding family, who were tough when it came to your academics and all other aspects, meaning it took you a good amount of time before you felt confident about who you were, who you liked, your style—all those key parts of your identity. You getting drunk and being open about it at a party was you at your rawest, and Paige had accepted this. She had seen you in a way you weren't sure you wanted anybody else to, and weren't sure if anybody else would want to like they did for her. So really, if not her, than who?

Paige had a billion things running through her mind that she wanted to say. "I wish we were dating before doing this," could've been one, "I wish I knew so I could make this more romantic for you," could've been another. But instead, the blonde laid her hand upon your cheek, kissing you before murmuring, "Thank you for trusting me with this," nose-to-nose. You grinned. "Yeah... I-, uh, thank you for never saying no," you replied, dropping your towel.

That was usually how it went —quick. Now, after a dirty kiss, you'd get naked and let Paige take the lead, and it'd be quick, raw, and passionate, but it was just different. The kiss was. And though you tried to match the pacing, that was different too. You watched as Paige fitted it on, her back turned to you. When you got bored, you reached into your nightstand drawer and removed the lube for safety. When Paige turned back around, the strap was on perfectly, making you suspicious about this being her first time. Oddly enough, if Paige were to say she did this with another girl, you might actually cry, so you don't ask her and just open your legs instead. "How do I look?" Paige asked, pulling at her chin repeatedly before flexing her arms. "Hot," you replied truthfully, "So hot."

Her hair was still wet, sorta wavy, and her skin was glass after she'd finished moisturizing. She smelled so good too. Everytime you two were about to do this, she somehow managed to look hotter each time. "You're keeping the rest of your thoughts to yourself," she read your mind, "Praise me some more." she teased, dropping to her knees. "What do you want me to say?" you asked, sitting up on your elbows and looking down at her, the girl positioned between your legs. "All the things I could just see you thinking about me," she breathed, her long finger coming up to circle your clit gently,

"All the things I can literally feel you thinking about me." she cleverly remarked about your immediate response to the sight of her: wetness. "I was thinking..." you begun, retracing your memory, mind always hazy when her fingers were on you. "Mhm," she murmured, suctioning your clit into her mouth gently, her eyes fixed on yours to let you know she was still listening. "Fuck," you breathed out, "Fuck, Paige, don't do this to me," you whimpered desperately. "You stop, I stop," she replied, pulling back slightly. "It's not so hard, is it?" she quirked a brow, pushing a finger inside your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your parted lips. "Tell me what was on your mind a second ago," she demanded as she pumped her middle finger in and out of you at a slow pace, too slow for your liking.

"You're so hot, Paige," you moaned, toes curling as she rewarded your disclosure with a long lick. "You always look so good all the time," you sighed, lip quivering as her finger made contact with your g-spot, stroking it in a distinct motion that made your lip quiver. "You have the prettiest eyes. The prettiest hair. You're just so perfect, gosh," Her oral ministrations ceased momentarily as she added another finger into you, her voice teasing, "Tastes and sounds like y/n's got a crush on me." You hated her smart mouth.

And simultaneously, you loved it and it felt too fucking good. "I love how smartly you talk too—so naturally," you confessed, feeling a surge of arousal seep out of you as her fingers maintained their unhurried pace within you. "You do, baby?" she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yeah," you moaned needily, "and I love it when you call me that." You melted into her touch, reveling in the mix of sensations coursing through your body. It was moments like these that blurred the lines between strictly pleasure and raw desire. You found pleasure in Paige's moments of dominance, relishing the sensation of being degraded. However, when she slipped up and used endearing terms, it shifted the dynamic, offering a glimpse of something beyond mere physical intimacy. In those moments, you could almost forget the boundaries of your arrangement as fuck buddies. It also dawned on you that your submission was a source of satisfaction for her, which in turn heightened your own pleasure. It was a delicate balance of power dynamics that fueled your exchange.

Paige continued her slow and sloppy assault, alternating between gentle licks and rough suckles, driving you to the edge of madness with each passing second. Paige's pace was torturously slow, but every moment felt like an eternity of bliss. She took her time, savoring every taste and sensation, making sure to explore every inch of your tight insides and throbbing clit. You moaned her name, your fingers tangling in her hair as you urged her on, wanting more of her touch, more of her tongue. Just more.

She draws back, a glistening trail of your essence adorning her chin. A connection between her and your cunt, strings of slick guide the way back into your wet pussy. With a gentle sigh, she spits lightly, a delicate touch that heightens the sensation, before tenderly reengaging, her tongue dancing with a graceful finesse amidst the delightful mess and head shaking passionately as she slurps you up. Lost in the moment, a wave of tranquility washes over you, enveloping you in the tender embrace of her touch. As her fingers explore deeper, a third joins the dance, their gentle caresses coaxing forth a symphony of pleasure.

Each movement is a whisper, a soft murmur of affection that sends shivers down your spine. With every stroke of her tongue, every tender exploration of her fingers, you feel yourself drawn closer to the brink of ecstasy. And as you teeter on the edge, your voice rises in a gentle climax, a whispered invocation of her name that echoes through the room, showcasing the intensity of your desire as she expertly continues to tongue-fuck you through your orgasm, each stroke pushing you further into the realms of euphoria. "Paige! I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming," you cry out, and she doesn't release you, holding your thighs firmly as she acknowledges your ecstasy with a soft, "Mhm." into your pussy.

When she's satisfied — when your body stops convulsing and you lay flat back onto the bed, heaving — she climbs up your body, her lips trailing wet kisses down your neck and chest. Each kiss sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that refuses to be extinguished. As her lips reach your nipples, she sucks on the right breast, eliciting a tiny moan from you. You hold her head close, the sensation distracting you from the cold lube she squirts onto your cunt. But as the gel is applied, a lingering pain stirs within you granted by her fingers, a sharp reminder of the intrusion to come.

Despite the discomfort, you focus on her, craving the connection between you. With a raw intensity, you pull her into a kiss, the carnal desire between you palpable. "I can't wait for you to fuck me," you murmur against her lips, your voice thick with anticipation. "I know you'll do so good." You fall into another kiss, and this time, Paige takes your legs, raising them up to your sides. With practiced ease, she spreads the lube around your cunt, mixing it with your natural slick and saliva. The sight of the strap-on makes you pause, realizing its size for the first time.

Paige notices your hesitation and speaks to distract you. "You nervous?" she asks, her voice laced with concern. You glance down at the intimidating shaft, contemplating the impending pain. "How bad is that gonna hurt on a scale of 1-10?" you inquire, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Paige doesn't sugarcoat her response. "8," she admits, her hand pumping the shaft. "9," she adds, hunching over your body. "But to you, that's a 10." She knows you well, understanding your body and its limits like no one else.

But you trust her implicitly, knowing she'll guide you through this experience with care and expertise. "Give me this hand," she commands, placing your left hand onto the cock. "While I push, you'll feel it, so you know when to brace for impact, kay?" You nod, a silent agreement passing between you. She raises her right hand like she's making an oath. "I'll use this hand to play with your clit," she promises, her touch grounding you in the moment.

And if you want me to stop at any time... what's the word?" she asks, her gaze locked with yours. "Toasted cornuts," you reply without hesitation. "Toasted cornuts," she repeats, a solemn vow passing between you. With her left arm caging you in, you focus on her muscles, admiring her strength and determination. "You have such a nice body," you remark, unable to resist complimenting her.

Paige lets out a tiny whistle, her confidence bolstered by your words. "Look who's fuckin' talkin'," she quips, her thumb circling your clit with a newfound rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. "Tell me when you're ready," she instructs, her voice soft and reassuring. You hesitate, uncertainty clouding your mind. But you trust Paige implicitly, knowing she'll support you through every step of this journey. "I..." you are, definitely, but you hesitate. Paige is like a mind reader. "What do you need. You can't be afraid to tell me what you need." You stare up at her, wondering if it'd break the barrier of casualty. But you really did trust her. And again, if not her, then who? "There's too much space between us, Paige," you confess, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "I need you closer." Her response is immediate, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. Pressing her chest against yours, she buries her head in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys in her wake.

She was super nervous herself — she had deliberately kept that distance, fearing the intimacy that would inevitably follow. By closing the gap between you, she was exposing herself to a vulnerability she hadn't anticipated. As she pressed her body against yours, her heart raced with uncertainty. Every touch, every kiss, threatened to break down the walls she had carefully built around herself. But she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards you, the magnetic attraction that drew her closer with each passing moment.

With her lips against yours, she tried to push aside her fears, focusing instead on the raw passion that ignited between you. In this moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming desire to be close to you, to feel your body pressed against hers in a shared embrace of passion and longing.

"I'm ready," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure?" Paige asks, her concern evident in her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure," you reply with conviction, ready to face whatever comes next. As she begins to push forward, the intrusion feels foreign at first, but the discomfort quickly gives way to a deep, throbbing pleasure. You moan, the sensation overwhelming yet undeniably arousing.

"Hey, play with your clit," Paige instructs, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of your passion. "Feels better that way." You obey, your hand finding its way to your clit, your movements synchronized with Paige's thrusts. They start slow, almost teasingly, as if she's savoring every moment of your connection. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from both of you. As she pushes forward, you feel the pressure building inside you, a delicious ache that only serves to heighten your desire.

You whimper, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to be on your stomach. "Paige, turn me over," you plead, your voice a desperate plea for more, and with her immense strength, she effortlessly complies. The sensation floods your senses, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As she positions you just as you had envisioned, memories of that electrifying encounter in the bathroom flood your mind. It's as if fate has brought you full circle, and now, here you are, experiencing the culmination of that desire.

With one hand firmly planted on your hip, Paige holds you steady as you press yourself against her, the intimacy of the moment washing over you like a wave. Your face contorts in pleasure as a guttural moan escapes your lips, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. "Oh, fuck, Paige," you gasp, your words a breathless declaration of pleasure. "Fuck, you feel so good." She can hardly find the words to respond, caught up in the raw passion of the moment. Her gaze meets yours, filled with awe and admiration as she marvels at your willingness to surrender to her.

"You're taking it so well, Y/N," she murmurs, her voice laced with admiration and desire. The sound of your name on her lips sends a thrill of pleasure coursing through you.

"Just for you," you whimper, your voice trembling with desire, "Just for you, P." Paige's thrusts exceed your expectations, her hips moving with a fluidity and precision that leaves you breathless. It's as if she's been trained for this moment, every movement calculated to maximize your pleasure. She wasn't lying when she said she would fuck the attitude out of you.

Using your hair to lift you up and off the bed, Paige forces your back into a proper arch, holding you in that position as she pistons her hips against yours. The sound of skin clapping against skin fills the atmosphere, punctuating each thrust with a primal rhythm that echoes the urgency of your desire.

"I'm gonna make you cum," she growls, her voice husky with need, and you can only moan in response, "Yeah, please," a plea for more, for release.

As she pounds into you relentlessly, you fumble with your clit, seeking that elusive release that hangs just beyond your grasp. And then, as her movements become more frantic and urgent, you feel it—the familiar sense of impending bliss, building and cresting within you.

With a cry of ecstasy, you finally succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, your body convulsing in ecstasy as torrents of pleasure cascade through you. It's as if the entire universe narrows down to this singular moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, enveloping you in a cocoon of rapture and leaving you breathless and utterly spent in its wake. Tears stream down your face, a testament to the intensity of the ecstasy you've just experienced as you come down from the peak, your heart still racing and your senses tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

As the weight of the moment settles over both of you, there's a palpable shift in the air. Paige withdraws from you, her movements mirroring your own sense of vulnerability and realization. For a moment, the silence between you is heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Then, with a tenderness that belies her usual confidence, Paige turns you over, her gaze soft yet intense as she meets your eyes. In that moment, you can see the depth of her feelings reflected back at you, a mixture of awe, tenderness, and a hint of uncertainty.

Without a word, Paige enfolds you in her arms, pulling you close against her chest. It's a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying more than words ever could. In her embrace, you find solace, reassurance, and a sense of belonging that fills the empty spaces within you.

As you rest against her, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath your ear, you realize that this is just the beginning of your journey together. You guys have started something beyond what this was supposed to be.

love is in the air? leave comments guys tell me what you think about this.. chapter? part? Where do you think the relationship is going and where do you want it to go? Inbox is open! masterlist here

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