#*hears screaming* gender

[themoonstonechronicler]

this zoom meeting is boring. i had to leave a call with friends to hear about this?

[lexalovesbooks]

Okay no you know what I’ve decided. My family PowerPoint night PowerPoint presentation IS going to be about a chorus of dragons. However since I have a couple family members who I think would really like those books and I don’t want to spoil them on the plot or character arcs or things like that, I will instead talk about what is perhaps the series most incomprehensible and least plot-spoilery aspect: Horse Genders

[cabbagequeen323]

DNFed 'The Once and Future Sex's by Eleanor Janega. The book is about medieval women's roles and how they differ and are the same from women's roles to this day. I found it , to paraphrase one good reads reviewer, to still fall into a dArK AgEs BaD attitude in a way that was really disappointing, given the authors credentials. Not that I know even a fraction of what she knows about the medieval period, but I contrast it with something like Ruth Goodman's 'How to be a Tudor'. Different time period, yes, but also a different attitude towards what is being written about. Janega's book felt to me as if it showed little joy in its subject material. While that is appropriate for a book that focuses so much on sexism, the combination of the lack of joy with the often flippant tone and such a strong emphasis of badness and never goodness left the information in the book not worth the bad taste it left in my mouth to me.

I also really didn't like the way that she handled/picked/(something) her theological sources but I don't have enough knowledge to justify why I felt that.

I do think that the introduction was really strong. I just couldn't recover my experience from the lows.

[oxbowreality]

my therapist is so bad with lgbt stuff but ughhh it's so hard to find a decent therapist

[rivilu]

quick! in the (more) fucked up and evil timeline where a durge joins the party,

[clonerightsagenda]

I think what strikes me most about Marissa having the same talent as Lucy is how much of a betrayal it is. Because of his past, Lockwood hates ghosts and wants to destroy them. George finds them scientifically interesting but not due the same respect as a living human. And that's all a lot easier if your experience of them is 'scary apparition that hurts me'. But Lucy can empathize with them. She feels their pain and sorrow. Even when she can't speak with them directly, she still tries to communicate and find out what they need. Marissa can do that too. It's ambiguous how much she's been psychically enthralled, but she more than almost anyone can understand the dead, and she builds a whole industry on treating them like vermin while trapping them in hell as livestock.

[kruxton]

absolutrly no way j had the most fucked up dream ever last night. oh my GODDDD

[abyssalpriest]

And now I can physically smell the sea oh OK. Hold on

...... I Je Rudra yeah you sure are

[phantomrose96]

The alt-right's foothold into Gen-Z is frustrating and I can see from over here how they're doing it.

You've got a generation of young-adults who are learning to be adults for the first time and for so many of them it sucks. It sucks to be in your first shitty apartment where things break, and to have your first shitty car that needs maintenance, and to be working a low-paying service or retail job where you get berated all day and barely scrape by. And you go home and you have taxes to figure out and electric bills to figure out and a screen on your phone to rot into to destress.

And this is men and women, equally, in this spot. But the alt-right messaging gets to tailor their approach to gender.

And hey women, yes you working a shitty job for shitty pay, overwhelmed by financial responsibilities and car repairs, what if you actually didn't need to do ANY of that? You don't need to. And you don't need to feel guilty about it. (You're not quitting, you're not being lazy), you actually are just embracing the chance to be exactly who an ideal woman should be. You should actually be beautiful, and demure, and barefoot in a sunny kitchen, glowing, pregnant, hearing the joyful sounds of your children while you bake a roast for your wonderful husband (strong, protective, loves you, handles the finances, handles the jobs, handles all the things you hate). OUR ancestors (don't mind the dogwhistle) did this for GENERATIONS, and modern society has failed you instead!

It's offering to break women out of all the parts of their real life that suck, and do it in a way that promises they're actually being better, being more admirable, more moral, more respectable, more correct, can feel good about, can feel proud about, as a Woman as Feminine as Mother as Goddess.

And the thing being promised does not need to actually reflect reality. It's a fantasy. It is not real. For every "beautiful demure barefoot" day, you'd be having another one covered in shit changing diapers of screaming infants with screaming children while your husband ignores you because it's Women's Work (take pride!) But that doesn't matter. It just needs to sound better than the reality they're living.

Then the men are targeted too. And it's the same in that it's getting to them by appealing to pride in their gender, but the messaging is different. It's "those finances are hard but ACTUALLY you're leveling up, you're grinding, you're finance maxing." It's hard but it's the kind of hard that is a challenge you can WIN at, boast about, post about, prove your manliness. Knowing cars, knowing home repairs, knowing taxes, that's your MAN pride, and you are so elite, you are so sigma, you are the envy of everyone, you are a masculine man. Women love you. Women will defer to you. Strong, respected, moral, loyal, unshakeable. Unlike those pansy men (mind the homophobic dogwhistling) who will whimper and cry like girls. You are better.

The shitty retail job is actually humble beginnings because you're minmaxing your way to financial success (bitcoin, crypto, investments). You can sleep with any woman you want as long as you're confident, and then you'll find one who understands how smart and confident and strong and protective you are and she will defer to you as her man. She will birth your children and teach them good morals and you will make it. Our ancestors lived this way for generations (dogwhistle) and modern society took it from you.

And with that messaging it makes it clear who the enemy in all this is - modern society that has convinced women to torture themselves with high education and terrible jobs, turned them Ugly with Ugly opinions and bad hair and nasty attitudes, yelping about "rights" and "equality" (pitting them against men! TAKING things from men!) All the while, society has been trying to emasculate men--replace them with women, make them soft and emotional, make them gay, make them WEAK. We've been made WEAK.

The naive women hearing this go "I'm not ugly! I don't hate men! I DO hate my job and my finances. I've been tricked. I'm actually rebelling by declaring my goal is to get a Perfect (White) (Christian) moral husband who will make all our decisions and protect me and our children." (And when she's financially trapped in an abusive marriage...? When she's suicidal with PPD but her husband won't touch that because it's Woman Hysteria...? And when her husband leaves her for someone who was as hot as she was 20 years ago and now she's figuring out finances, health care, taxes, bank accounts for the first time in her life...?)

And the men go "They've been TAKING things from us for too long! It's time to be men again! It's time to take pride! I am strong and confident. I am in charge! I never show weakness!" (And when he's got a gun to his head due to the depression he's never been allowed to talk about as Women Feelings...? And when he's financially ruined from a crypto scheme that stroked his ego and robbed him blind...? And when he's dead from alcohol poisoning and none of his adult children notice because no one's spoken to 'Dad' in 15 years...?)

And it's so hard to fight because you're arguing against a fantasy. How do you disprove their fantasy? It's so hard to explain to them, hey you're working a shitty job where you have no future because the rich bastards took it all from you. And now you're doing their work for them. You hate society because of what they've done to it and now you're doing their work. Now you're targeting groups who've never done anything to harm you and the guys responsible are laughing to the bank. How do you explain? How do you disprove fantasy?

[kringle-c]

WAIT WHAT

jotes n splat but w/ proper scaling

[betterthanmemelous]

Love the people who would rather talk about removing human rights instead of our planet fucking burning.

[excusemyobsessions]

You're safe.

Sylus x MC/You

Genre:  One shot, angst but comfort?, fluff, gender neutral reader

Word count: 1200 words

Little note: Sylus comforts you after a nightmare about your past lives as per request of a lovely anon.

Warnings: mild gore?, blood, description of a nightmare, use of pet names (honey), teeth-rotting fluff

(Also posted on AO3)

Suffocating.

The air was suffocating.

Heavy smoke clouded your vision and made your eyes sting, tears forming in them.

Your hands were covered in blood, it dripped from your fingers heavily, pitter pattering on the scorched ground beneath your knees.

You could hear choking sounds inches away from you.

Through your tears you caught a glimpse of white hair, black iridescent scales.

“Sylus!” you whimpered.

Your dragon wheezed, choked, gurgling sounds echoing from his throat. There was a large sword sticking out of his ribcage. It was impaled all the way through.

It was you who had forced it through.

“No, no, no, no, Sylus,” you sobbed.

Trembling hands captured his cheeks, cradling his face with so much care. Blood smeared on his skin and you frantically tried to wipe it off, only making it worse.

Long claws circled your wrist.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” he whispered weakly.

Tears fell heavily down your cheeks, streaming down like a river, dripping onto his peaceful features.

“Please, please don’t leave me,” you begged of him.

“I will always be here,” he told you. “Always.”

The bright crimson in his eyes faded to a soulless maroon.

You screamed.

You were awakened by gentle but firm fingers, shaking your shoulders.

“Honey, hey.”

Sylus leaned over you, ruby eyes startled, widened with concern, little droplets of water dripping from his wet snowy hair. He'd turned on the lamp on the bedside table and its soft, yellow light outlined his sharp features. Images of your dream, of your shared past life, overlapped with the present, man and dragon flashing before your eyes before finally settling on the man inches away from you.

“Shhh, I'm right here,” he told you steadily.

Mind hazy with sleep, you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you.

Sylus let out a little surprised groan. He caught himself just in time not to crush you under his weight, forearms coming to rest next to your head, on each side of the pillow. You buried your face in the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent, nuzzling your nose against the exposed skin. The scent of his expensive body wash contrasted with the smoke that still burned your throat.

“I came out of the shower and you were crying,” he explained. “It was just a nightmare, it’s okay.”

You gripped onto him so tight you were scared you’d choke him but you were shaking. Desperate to hold him now, like you couldn't do in your dream.

“There was so much smoke, my hands were covered in blood… It was your blood,” you began to tell him, tears welling up in your bleary eyes.

You felt your vocal chords tie themselves into a knot, the salt of your tears going down your throat.

“I pushed a sword into your chest,” you whimpered.

You heard him inhale sharply against your hair.

“I didn't-... I don't-... Sy…” you hiccuped into his neck.

His arms circled your frame and he rolled the two of you over onto your sides. His motion shifted you a bit lower, low enough to bury your face in his chest.

“I know, honey, I know,” he whispered against the top of your head.

Your hands came down to sprawl themselves over his chest, feeling the unscathed skin, the muscles, the tendons. He was warm under your fingers, soft, whole. There was no sword, no blood. You sobbed against his heart.

“Sy, it was awful,” you told him.

You felt the rumbling of a hum within his chest when that was all he could offer you in response.

Your arms circled his waist and you laid your head against his chest, ear pressed to his heart, to listen to its steady beat. And you wept, for him, for you, for a past long gone which you felt so deeply engraved in your chest.

Sylus held you close, long fingers cradling your head against his chest, his other hand on the small of your back.

“It's over now,” he told you, “We're safe and sound.”

Your grip tightened around him and so did his around you.

His hand traced over your shaking shoulders, massaging the tensed muscles, slid down your back soothingly. You held onto him like your life depended on it.

Encased within his embrace was where you wanted, no, needed to be.

He moved his hand away and shifted a little, and you held on to him tighter, afraid he'd slip between your fingers. Another sob ripped through your chest.

“Shh, I'm not going anywhere,” he told you reassuringly.

You realized then he was just tucking the covers over the both of you, cocooning you in warm silk sheets and his arms. When he dragged you even closer, you were able to slip your legs in between his. The sigh that escaped your lips was interrupted by little sobs but it was one of relief.

Sylus seemed to relax in your embrace. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and began to run his long fingers through your hair carefully. Occasionally, they would get caught up in a knot but he gently detangled it.

Slowly but surely, your sobs began to quiet down.

“You know, I'm glad you're no longer a sorceress,” he told you quietly, fingers slipping into your hair to massage your scalp.

Your head slowly leaned back into his hand and he supported the weight, shifting his position so he could look down at you now that your face was finally away from his chest.

“In this life, I can keep you here, just like this, safe and sound. And I’m no longer afraid you'll be taken away.”

His deep voice was mellow but serious, it resonated with your heart as if the sole sound of it could wrap it up in a tender hold.

The tears hadn't stopped yet. They blurred your vision but you could see his eyes gaze back at you steadily, so attentive.

“What if you're the one who's taken away from me?” you whispered up at him.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

His other hand lifted to catch the tears falling endlessly from your eyes with the knots of his fingers.

“Who would even dare?” he responded, confidence so palpable you found yourself agreeing with him.

You kissed the palm of his hand.

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against your forehead, resting his lips there for a long while. You let your eyes close, sinking into him.

So utterly tangled with him, you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours, the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed, his warm breath against your skin.

Slowly but surely, the tears dried. He cleaned any remains with tender fingers, kissed each one of your swollen eyelids.

“You're safe,” he promised and you believed him.

“I'm tired,” you told him, snuggling further into him.

He wrapped his long arms around you again.

“You can sleep. I'm not going anywhere.”

And you knew he really wasn't because there was no purer love in this world than his.

[lazi4ss]

That's Not My Milkman

masterlist

Warning: slight gore but not that detailed, doppleganger Francis

Gender neutral reader

(NOT MY ART, I FORGOT WHOS TIKTOK THIS IS FROM BUT CREDITS TO YOU!)

"So... Is everything in check?"

A tired voice mumbled out as your eyes trailed up from the ID and entry request in your hands to the source of the sound. Tired hazel eyes stared back at you as Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt bad, here you were double and triple-checking everything while the exhausted and probably underpaid milkman was there standing and waiting to be let in. But it's for everyone's safety so don't feel too bad. You gave a small smile as you handed back his paperworks. Everything seems to check out and you were going to let him in but... what's that on his uniform sleeve?

You squinted your eyes as you scanned the cuff of his right sleeve. His gaze travelled to where you were looking and with a shrug of his shoulders he lifted his hand to give you a clear view. And it is in fact blood, and by the looks of it, quite fresh too. How come you didn't notice it before?

You raised an eyebrow, one hand slowly inching closer to the danger button as you tried to be subtle and casual about it. Because what the heck? He was confident enough to show you something so suspicious without batting an eye.

"Sooo... Uhm. Anything you want to share?"

You casually asked, yet nervousness was laced in your tone. He sighed, keeping his composed and nonchalant act as put his hand down, burying it in his pocket as he dragged his free hand on his face. If he's a doppelganger then he's really going the extra mile to act or seem believable.

"Mmm. I know you're on edge."

He mumbled, gaze traveling from your hand that was ready to press the danger button to your face. Staring a little too long as he examined your features. You got a very pretty face yet it was filled with mistrust. Shame. Catching himself, he quietly scoffed under his breath. Good job Francis, already had the doorperson suspicious of you.

"But this is not what it looks like. I injured my hand earlier with a broken glass, blood must've gotten on my uniform accidentally."

He finished, not breaking the staring contest you two have started. You don't quite seem to believe that story, but it was plausible. There was a tense silence for a while before you broke it.

"Show me your wound."

You requested and again, another tense silence. He didn't look like he was going to comply. Just you and him staring down at each other. No one backing down and tearing their eyes away.

"... Fuck."

He quietly hissed and that was enough confirmation for you. You pressed the button immediately, grabbing the phone as you dialed the D.D.D. A familiar voice on the other end confirms and tells you that agents are on their way.

You sighed in relief, although that didn't last long as you heard banging on the glass pane separating you and the doppelganger. Thank God those were strong enough to withhold the assaults. You should've been shaking in your seat right now, and you were albeit not so intense, but it was the first time you came across the quiet and aloof milkman's doppel.

Hell, it was the first time you even saw Francis up front, not just out of the picture in the folder provided for your job. Out of curiosity, you raised the metal shutters to take a peek at it. And what greeted you was a snarling, red-eyed Francis. His features twisted in rage as he banged on the glass repeatedly.

"Let me in, Y/n!"

He growled, to which you shut the metal blinds again on his face in response as you heard the agents barge in. You thought it would be like last time, after a while they would let you know that the cleanup was successful and that they would be on their way back. Easy peasy, right? Oh how wrong you were. Turns out, this one was putting up quite a fight.

You could hear shouting, a lot of screaming, and the sound of something sharp slashing at flesh. Wet sounds of people gurgling in what you presumed to be their own blood... That was disturbing. You were almost too scared to pull up the shutters to see what was going on. But suddenly the noises stopped. Did they catch him? Was it finally over?

With shaking hands, you pressed the danger button off. The blinds slowly ascended and holy shit, the sight was like something out of a nightmare. It was straight up a blood bath. The agents' bodies were piled on the right side. Some missing their heads, missing their upper or lower half, and others' stomachs were ripped out and just generally shredded and torn. But that wasn't what you saw first.

It was Francis, or well, his doppelganger, with blood splattered on his clothes and a little getting on his cheek. His forearm was resting on the glass as he leaned. His mouth opened and formed a smirk as he panted, breathing heavily while glaring at you. His left hand fiddled with the blood-drenched tie on his neck.

If he wasn't a murderous doppelganger, you would've swooned. But alas, you can't have nice things in life. You blinked at him before pressing the button again,

"Wait- damn it!"

He called out but the windows were closed off again as you dialed the number quickly. Yet again, the same old thing was said, another batch of agents were dispatched. You waited, fidgeting in your seat as you heard him call out to you.

"Come on... I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to frighten you. Can you open the door?"

He tried to coax you with that voice... That smooth and deep voice that sounded so tired, on the verge of begging you... Wait what-

You shook your head, patting your cheeks lightly because what the hell was that? Such intrusive thoughts are not welcome while your life's in danger!

More screaming and shouting was heard as the agents arrived and you could tell they were much more prepared than the last batch. Gunshots can be heard but another animalistic growl pulled you out of your thoughts. Everything went silent again. You stay rooted on your spot as the only thing that can be heard in the air is your quivering gasps and heavy breathing on the other side of the glass panel.

Is he still there? You thought as you turned off the danger button again. More bodies were piled up on the left corner and surprise surprise, he was still alive, albeit in a rougher shape than previously. He wasn't wearing his milkman hat anymore, letting his brown messy hair show. His uniform was missing three buttons at the top, slightly showing his chest, bowtie was nowhere to be found.

He was still drenched in blood but what stunned you was what he was doing. His form raised and dropped as he inhaled and exhaled heavily, tired hazel eyes staring back at you as his eyebrows scrunched up. His hands pressed together in a pleading manner. Is he actually begging?

"Y/n, let me in... Please?"

[untitledrockstar-if]

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

Lead singer R of Saving Face -- currently on tour in North America -- and their partner of three years caused quite the scene in the Ritz-Carlton lobby last night during a heated argument! The fight reportedly began over a delayed check-in with emotions running high and quickly spiraled into personal accusations, with R's partner allegedly shouting, "Me, me, me! I can't hear it anymore!" and R firing back, "You wouldn't even have a roof over your head if it weren't for me!"

Onlookers recorded the altercation, and the videos have since gone viral, sparking concern and debate among fans. Hotel staff tried to calm the situation, but the couple left without resolving the dispute publicly. Neither R nor their partner (or should we rather say former partner?) has issued a statement about the incident, but be sure to follow along as we cover any new developments following that very public meltdown!

CAN'T SAVE YOUR LOVE FROM DYING is a mature interactive story where you step into the shoes of a rockstar’s partner navigating the wild highs and messy lows of fame. As the drama unfolds, you’ll decide whether to carve out your own identity or remain the glamorous accessory the industry expects. With resentment, ambition, and chaos colliding, can you survive the spotlight— or will you thrive in it?

gender & sexuality choice

decide between five unique romance options, all of them gender selectable

choose whether to carve out a space for yourself in Hollywood or live off of your partners fame

cause a scandal or two (or three or--)

RONAN/ROXANNE ☆ the rockstar everyone wants— a magnetic performer with a voice that could break hearts and a smile that makes the world forget their flaws. Behind the sold-out arenas and screaming fans, they're yours however— messy, complicated, and achingly human.

MILAN/MARGO ☆ the actor on the brink of stardom— a talented, ambitious actor with a magnetic charm that’s impossible to ignore. As their career skyrockets, your relationship deepens, but the pressures of fame and the shadows of those eager to pull them away will be harder than ever to ignore.

CHARLES/COLETTE ☆ the sharp-tongued, enigmatic agent who always seems two steps ahead—especially when it comes to you. With secrets as deep as their charm, C isn’t just looking to make you a star.

SAMUEL/SCARLETT ☆ the hot-headed, talented cousin and bassist of your partner is supposed to be off-limits, but as cracks start to show, turning to someone familiar could prove to be just what you need.

???? ☆ the blast from the past is more than just a reminder of where you came from.

50k words in a short prologue + chapter 1

DEMO ☆ PLAYLIST ☆ FAQ ☆ CHARACTERS

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Cop More than a Feel

Kinktober Day 10: Spitroasting Two DILF Cop Alpha Yanderes x Gender Neutral Omega Reader CW: Noncon, omega discrimination, bigotry, a/b/o dynamics, musk, pheromones, abuse of authority, spitroasting, oral sex, threesome, knotting, general yandere behavior, reader fucked big stupid Word Count: 2k (Hope you guys enjoy this!)

You were in your car, a quiet moment of dread before going into work. It had become something of a daily tradition. You knew it would be another day of being belittled and harassed but if you gave up now it would be like admitting to all the people who told you you couldn’t amount to anything that they were right. You were an omega who had put themselves through the rigorous training to be a police officer, and you had managed to land a job in a short staffed department.

But no matter what you did or how many times you had proved yourself, you were still treated as a glorified secretary. The most dangerous thing you had ever been allowed to do was to go and get doughnuts and coffee by yourself.

It was humiliating. But it was not the worst thing that you had to put up with.

The worst of it were the snide remarks you could hear them make. Not even out of earshot, they didn't care if you heard. Awful comments about how you should be happy to even be a secretary around this kind of work. Comments about whose knot you should wind up bouncing on. Comments about what they thought your pheromones were like without your suppressants making them nearly undetectable. Comments about what your slick tasted like.

Those remarks made you angry, frustrated, and depressed. You wanted to scream and cry, but neither of those were options, lest you validate the emotional omega stereotype. It was pure gaslighting. But as ugly and bigoted as those remarks had been, they still weren't the end of things. It wasn't uncommon for a wandering hand to slide up your thigh when you had to sit by one of the alpha officers or grab your ass when you bent over.

The only time they didn't make any crude comments or get touchy with you were the times when the chief of police or the captain were around. You thought this was a hopeful sign that some of your superiors were open to the idea of an omega on the force and that they had told your other coworkers to treat you as an equal. At the very least, their commanding presence brought you some relief. They were ex-military, after all. This was not a just world, though, and you could not have been more wrong.

When you eventually mustered up the mental fortitude and could avoid it no longer, you went into the building.

For the most part, it was a standard and uneventful day, or at least what could be considered uneventful relative to what you normally suffered through. There were still comments and lecherous hands. Just not to the extent that there could have been. Though your day was fated to get much worse as right after lunch you were called into the chief's office.

Were you finally going to be given a chance to do some real police work?

No.

You entered to find both Chief Markey and Captain Nelson were present, and for some reason, the desk had been cleared. They did not look happy at all. It was a surprise performance review. This was not the first review that you had failed, but it was the one they were most negative with.

They said that while you clearly wanted to succeed and put in effort that it simply wasn't good enough. You were constantly jumpy and distracted, on edge constantly. Not to mention emotional. No major outbursts per se, but you were constantly glaring at your fellow coworkers. You tried to point out that your behavior reflected a hostile work environment.

Chief Markey raised his voice as he replied while Captain Nelson smirked.

"That proves you aren't meant for this job, you cannot even take responsibility for your own mistakes! Furthermore..."

He then went into great detail about how you made the men uncomfortable and then laid out accusations of you purposefully putting pheromones out to seduce or entice your fellow officers. Combined with your glaring, it was basically sexual harassment.

"This is insane! They get to grope and comment about me, but if I complain, it is my responsibility? But they get to just make up random bullshit about me, and I get admonished without proof!?"

"Calm down!"

"Yeah, you're being hysterical! Proving everyone completely right. It is obvious an omega can't be an officer."

Chief Markey scratched his well-groomed beard before smirking.

"But we have thought up a position for you..."

The position they had thought of was any that involved taking their knots.

Apparently, they were completely obsessed with you. A strong omega that would produce healthy babies, so resilient. But your place was riding one of their cocks, not in a dangerous job. It's why the other officers stopped harassing you when they were around. Markey and Nelson had marked you as theirs. They didn't like the others touching you, but thought it was a useful way to get you to break down, so they had an excuse to give you bad evaluations. Of course, they knew such a prideful omega would never just go along with being "reassigned," so they made sure you couldn't refuse.

They said that they'd plant evidence on you, get you fired from any new job, and track you down to the ends of the earth. No matter what, they'd ruin your life if you didn't submit.

"But don't worry, we'll let you wear the uniform and even keep the word "officer" in your title."

Nelson stroked your cheek and wiped away your tears with a rugged calloused hand.

"Yeah, you'll be our personal morale officer and take our knots every day when not working as our personal secretary."

Markey closed the blinds that hung in front of the large windows that overlooked the rest of the department and then locked the door.

"And look on the bright side. None of the other officers will give you any trouble after this."

You wanted to scream, to fight back, to run. Do anything, but take it. But that was all you could do. Well, that and cry. They had finally won. Captain Nelson wiped away your tears and pressed his lips to yours as you held back ugly sobs.

"Typical omega, so emotional. You'll feel better after you've had some good breeding."

Chief Markey made his way behind you and attended to the task of removing your uniform.

"No... no ple-"

You had started to protest somewhat loudly but were cut off by more unwanted kisses before Nelson spoke smugly.

"Now. Now. Don't want to protest too loudly and have all your coworkers hear, do you?"

You were shivering in fear.

"Don't be scared, it will all be over soon."

Markey rubbed a teasing finger around your hole.

"Oh, you're much too dry."

"We can fix that, though."

They each nibbled and gnawed a side of your neck, The Chief from behind and The Captain from the front. Your trembling in fear became involuntary quivers of pleasure.

They could tell the difference. Smell it easily. And then feel it as slick leaked from your hole and onto Markey's fingers. He left your neck to lick his thumb.

"Tastes ripe," he chuckled.

You were in such shock by the circumstances and physical stimulation that you didn't even notice when they had pulled down their pants and underwear, large throbbing cocks on full display and eager to be buried inside of you. One of them pulled out a thick blanket from beneath the desk and spread it out on top of it. They picked you up and laid you down carefully on the desk.

Ah... so that's why the desk had been cleared.

Chief Markey groped your ass while Captain Nelson held his cock in his hand and lightly smacked your face with it, smearing your face with its scent as you tightly closed your eyes. You gasped as Markey dipped his dick into you, your open mouth taken as an invitation for Nelson to slip his prick in. It tasted salty, probably from sweat and the near comical amount of precum he was producing. There was no choice but to swallow it  as he flooded your mouth.

Markey smacked your ass hard, causing you to jolt in surprise.

"Careful! I don't want them to bite my cock!"

"Sorry..."

They started out moving in tandem, Markey's thrusts pushing you onto Nelson's cock and Nelson pushing you onto Markey. But that didn't last as they began to lose themselves and go a bit feral. It only spurred them onward when you started twitching and convulsing in the pleasure that had been forced upon you, betrayed by your own body.

Deep anxiety and dread bubbled within you, but even as it did, another instinctual part of you was demanding that you submit and let your alpha mates breed you deeply. As the small room began to fill with the pheromones of two alphas and their cocks continued to plow into you, you felt your body slowly relax and become pliant to their touch.

You flinched in slight discomfort as Markey's knot swelled inside you and throbbed as he filled you with his cum. Nelson followed suit, filling your throat with his seed, but careful not to knot your mouth and risk choking you. Though that didn't stop you from gagging a bit as his nuts emptied into you.

"Oh, you haven't gotten your release yet... can't have that. What kind of mates would we be if we didn't make you feel good?"

Markey rolled his hips, moving his knot inside you until you convulsed and moaned out softly. Once his knot deflated and unbound the two of you he and Nelson swapped positions until you were brought to climax and knotted by Nelson while Markey made you suck his cock, slick with your mingled juices.

They played with you in a few other positions for over an hour until you were just a limp little sex doll. They took you on the floor, against the wall, on the desk some more, on the chairs. Your hair, face, thighs, crotch, and butt were covered in musky alpha seed. It oozed out of your hole. You were left slouched in the chair and too fucked out of your mind to do anything but mumble and drool. You were the very picture of someone who was utterly debauched.

"So quiet and well behaved. Will definitely pass a new performance review."

"Just proves that omegas need knots and not a high stress job."

To complete your new look were twin claiming bites on each side of your sensitive neck. They wiped you clean as best they could but you still absolutely reeked of cum and musk, though they didn't want their scent removed from you anyway. Nelson clothed you and covered you up with his jacket, feeling that if you were in your right mind, you wouldn't want to be seen in this state. And while he was proud of fucking you into such a stupor, the sight was for his and Markey's eyes only.

To be honest, he hadn't really wanted to share you, even with Markey. But the two of them had been old military buddies, so they decided not to let an omega come between them.

Except for when they literally had you between them.

They had come to the agreement that they would switch who you lived with weekly and share you on weekends. And of course they'd have you at work as their assistant/secretary... and as their cumdump on slow days... Captain Nelson was given the rest of the day off to get you situated and inform you of your happy new homes. You were in no state to take in new information, poor dear, but you'd be better in an hour or so.

[sick-sad-world-revolution-now]

Nothing confirms more the absurdity of the concept of “gender identities” than going to a country ruled by strict religion principles. Everyday at multiple hours and beginning at around 5 am you could hear the loud speakers echoing the voices of men chanting glory to “God” (“Allah”), imposing a rhythm and way of thinking to all. Imagine if we women were doing this, chanting every day glory to the “Goddess” and imposing it at five different hours, for everyone to hear … sounds like a joke, right ? In seven days I saw maybe 20 women (non-tourists) in total who had no veil on their heads, no woman who worked as drivers, guides, police officers or even waiters. The huge majority of merchants were men. Men everywhere. On their scouters, together, screaming or running or working or having fun (boys playing football, laughing together, etc) and just living like normal human beings.

The women and girls were less visible. Not invisible, but often close to it. Figures in the kitchen of restaurants, working as cooks and cleaners, accompanying their children to school or walking in the Medina to buy food for the day. Men full of confidence, women more reserved. This was so blatantly obvious. When the world is unfair and so deeply patriarchal, how can you expect a woman to like being a woman ? How much do you think she likes and feels in “alignment” with her condition and what gender activists incorrectly call “assigned gender at birth” ? A concept that breaks so easily when confronted to reality isn’t valuable in the first place. If nothing had peaked me yet this would have been it.