#BLACK MAN DOWN FOR WHITE WOMAN DEVELOPMENT

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Every time my mom watches Maleficent I think that I might have liked that movie more in isolation

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Male Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[wraithbound-if]

A figure steps into your view, looming over you and staring down at you. Watching as your life leaves you. You can’t make out many details, on account of your rapidly leaving life. Their skin is pale, practically paper white, and is framed by inky black waves of hair that spills down and over their shoulders. It looks a bit matted and damp, strands sticking to their forehead either from sweat or blood. Standing out against their skin is the crimson smear across the bottom half of their face, staining their pale skin red and dripping down their neck and clothes. A grin sits amongst the red full of teeth stained in much the same way as it stretches across their face. What little bit of light there is, catches the glint of four long canines that stand out menacingly as if they crave to be used. It seems like they already have been. You know this person. You know her. She is your end.

[Demo (49.2k words)] [CoG Forum] [Characters]

Wraithbound is an weird west interactive fiction game, where you play as a person who has lost most, if not all, of their memories after some kind accident that left you half dead.

After waking up in the middle of the woods, you're found by two people and taken to the town of San Arima to tend to your wounds. While you're there, you slowly begin to piece together who you were and what happened to you.

Will you take your revenge and let the building hate in your chest consume you? Or will you learn to let go and keep moving for a different reason.

Warning:

This game contains depictions of death, violence, gore, optional sexual content, swearing, and other mature themes. Please be aware of these things as you continue with the demo. If you have any recommendations for content that should be listed in the above list, please let me know!

Features

Customize your MC. Play as a man, woman, or nonbinary person. Customize your appearance with options for being trans and develop your personality.

Be better, or worse, than you were. Create your personality for who you were before you woke up in the woods, changing how some characters interact with you.

Impact the story with your choices.

Romance any of the five main cast members, with an opportunity for a poly route.

Potentially die. Don't fear death. While it's the end for most, it seems like the grim reaper just doesn't want you.

Characters

The Doctor

Edward/Edith Hayes (m/f) is one of the two that found you in the woods when you first awoke. E is optimistic, kind-hearted, and a bit timid. They strive to see the best in people and help who they can, even if it causes them to ignore the signs of danger around them.

The Witch

Sloan Ash (m/f/x) is the other of the two that found you in the woods when you first woke up. Sloan puts on an air of confidence, sarcasm, with a touch flirtation. A person who doesn't seem keen to stay in one place, yet seems to stay anyway.

The Deputy

Azael/Azura Herrera (m/f) is the deputy to the sheriff of San Arima, a man they were once proud to serve under. However the past couple years the sheriff has changed. Suspicious dealings and odd orders, something is going on that they are being kept out of and they will figure out what.

The Conman

Leonard/Lilith (m/f) is a relatively new addition to the town of San Arima. L is person who claims to be an "entrepreneur" who always ends up on the winning end of any endeavor they take, less so those they work with. They've said that this town is ripe with opportunity, for what isn't exactly clear.

The Widow

Morgan Faulkner (m/f/x) is a magus-hunter, a type of bounty hunter that specializes in dealings with the supernatural. Roughly 3 years ago, they lost their partner and spouse with no word or warning. Now Morgan has found their way to San Arima and they seem to want you dead, claiming you're just a monster wearing the face of the one they love.

[lewismcqueen]

work husband.

lh44 x black!reader

02 wc: 1,942 summary: Lewis is one of your closest co-workers, but how close is he, exactly? a/n: hiii i came up with this drabble really quickly because i wanted to put smth out in between fics hope that's alright! cheesy fluff with a sprinkling of angst :) psst - my requests are open! got a request but can't think of anything? send me a prompt from this list + a genre! check pinned for guidelines.

You massaged your temples in an attempt to soothe the slowly-developing headache induced by staring at Excel sheets all day. 

Finally, you tore your eyes away from your laptop screen, leaving a white rectangle burned into your retinas when you screwed your eyes shut. 

“Uh-oh, are we slacking on the job now? That's unlike you, Y/N.”

“Fuck off, Lewis,” you replied, but a smile creeping across your lips gave you away. 

“That's no way to speak to an esteemed co-worker,” came the same light, cheery voice but from above this time. “Might have to take that one to HR.”

Your eyes snapped open, revealing the face of the co-worker in question—Lewis—staring down at you with a teasing grin. His braids were tied back today, and he had gotten yet another tie. It was a dark forest green with a yellow plaid print. Every Monday morning, you'd try to guess in your head what kind of gaudy pattern he would introduce to your dreary white office cubicles that week. This time, you were right on the money.

“You wouldn't, Forehead. Nice tie.”

You rose from your seat to grab a small plastic cup from the water cooler that had just been stationed nearby next to a sad-looking potted plant. 

“Thanks Kerry Washington,” Lewis parried back. 

The comment was in reference to your own fashion choices during your first week on the job: head-to-toe matching pantsuits in various bright colors. You explained that they “lifted your mood” when you first met, but he never let you live it down.

You lifted the little lever above the spout and waited for your cup to fill about three quarters of the way before flipping it back down and taking a sip.

“You're never gonna let that one go, are you?”

“Not for as long as I live.”

As you made your way back to your respective desks, he asked, “Say, you were at Friday's Zoom meeting, right?”

You gave him an unimpressed look.

“You literally waved at me on camera.”

Lewis leaned on the divider separating the two cubicles and crossed his arms, revealing the outline of toned muscle beneath his black shirt.

“One: not the point. Two: I was waving at everyone, because I am a pleasant and upstanding fellow.”

“And is that why you're about to ask for my notes from a meeting that you were definitely paying attention to? Again?”

“Will you let me see them if I ask nicely? Do I have to beg?”

You tapped your chin, fake-thinking.

“Hmmm. I'll consider.”

In his usual theatrical fashion, the man got up off the divider and sank to his haunches next to your swivel chair, hands clasped together. 

“Please? I'll buy you so many drinks tonight.”

You tilted your head in amusement as Lewis poked out his bottom lip in a pout. Combined with clear dark eyes that sparkled beneath the fluorescent office lighting, you almost told him he was cute out loud. You sighed dramatically. 

“Fine. I'll pull them up, but I won't forget about that promise.”

He shot back up to his feet.

“You're a life-saver.”

-

That evening found you and a few other close co-workers at the local bar. It was a relatively clean spot with cutesy bright neon signs on the wall that made it look “Instagrammable”, as you had once remarked to Lewis. They cast a pink glow onto the right side of his face as he sat across from you at your designated booth, watching you enjoy your free beverage.

“You've nearly finished your third glass,” he remarked with a laugh, looking partially impressed. “I know I said it was on me, but you're draining my wallet here.”

Your other co-worker, a tall woman named Naomi, chimed in with a smirk.

“Hold up, you've been paying for her drinks this whole time? Why not all of us? What'd we do to you?”

“He only buys them for his lover, right?” added Lewis’ friend Charles. 

He rolled his eyes as the Frenchman elbowed him with a wink.

“Guys, he's married,” you tried to clarify, the alcohol beginning to make you slur a couple of words. “And he promised me free drinks if I showed him my notes from last week. He owes me.”

You turned to Lewis for confirmation, who furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Well you've gotten the second bit right. Who told you I was married?”

Your eyes widened as Naomi and Charles burst into laughter as if you had just told them a ridiculous conspiracy theory.

“But you have a ring on the ‘I'm Married’ finger.”

Lewis looked down at the small silver band on his ring finger. 

“See? I told you that it makes it look like you are taken!” Charles remarked.

Lewis chuckled and shook his head.

“Nah, I'm still on the market. I just can't walk around the office with my usual pieces, much as I'd like to.”

You gazed at his fingers, trying to imagine larger, more fashionable jewelry on them. They'd match his elaborate hand tattoos—not that you'd ever seen him outside of work to ever know for sure. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip for a second before Naomi’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“You're such a fashion nerd, talking about some ‘pieces’. I bet you wear, like, Rick Owens or some shit just to go grocery shopping.”

“What's wrong with Rick Owens? I think their garments are pretty well-constructed.”

“See?”

The table erupted into laughter so loud that it got the attention from nearby booths. You downed the rest of your drink at an impressive speed, clearing your throat right after. Lewis snorted as he watched.

“You should really slow down, seriously.”

You gave him a half-smile. 

“Chill out, dude, you're not my husband. You don't have to watch me.”

"He's kinda your work husband though, right?”

You hummed thoughtfully. “My…work husband?”

Lewis had always alerted you whenever management came lurking around the office so that you didn't get caught slacking. Every Valentine's Day saw him leaving chocolates at your desk, and he asked about you whenever you called in sick.

“I guess you could say that.”

-

Naomi and Charles eventually left, bidding the both of you good night. You ordered just one more glass before stopping for the night; you weren't trying to get too hammered.

Peering over the rim, you noticed Lewis studying you with an unreadable expression on his face. His nose and cheeks were slightly reddened after he'd ordered his own drinks.

“What?” You grinned, setting the glass down in front of you with your arms folded on the table.

A smile—no, a smirk?—tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Nothing.”

“C'mon, it can't be nothing. You're staring at me somethin’ fierce right now.”

He laughed at your bluntness, his lips parting to reveal his signature gap-toothed smile. The sight made your stomach flip. Cutting yourself off at four glasses was a good call.

He gestured in your direction. “Can I not look at you?” 

“You can, but there's gotta be a reason.”

Lewis tilted his head, his expression settling into something thoughtful.

“Have you ever…thought about bringing back the fun pantsuits?”

You gave him a weird look.

“What does that have to do with—”

“You looked really pretty in them. Happier, too.”

His observation was correct; you were happier as a fresh recruit that no longer needed to desperately search for a job or internship. Then the work piled up, the days began to feel like an endless time loop, and suddenly you didn't see the point in all the crazy colors anymore…

Wait.

“Pretty?”

You blinked, only now registering what was said. You wished Lewis wouldn't smile at you like that a second time.

“I'm being honest. Y’know, as your ‘work husband’,” he added air quotes as he spoke. 

You stared at him for a few moments, saying nothing. Then:

“We're both a little drunk at this point. I think I'm gonna call an Uber.”

Lewis nodded, awkwardly glancing elsewhere. “Probably right.”

After he paid the bill (and winced while doing so), you followed him outside, where the two of you stood by the curb in front of the bar. At some point, you found yourself shivering as the brisk evening air nipped at you through your thin white blouse. Lewis had had the foresight to at least bring a brown leather bomber jacket with him to go over his blazer. It made him look like a handsome pilot when he zipped it up all the way, but you'd never tell him that.

He caught you looking and asked, “You cold?”

You almost refused out of some vague sense of pride, but it'd be good twenty minutes before your Uber arrived. So you just nodded.

Just as expected, Lewis unzipped his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Like in the movies, you scoffed internally.

“You can borrow it until we get dropped off.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“What about you?”

He shrugged, “I run hot. I'll survive.”

-

The ride home was mostly silent, save for the soft jazz music that your driver had (thankfully) decided to turn on. 

You've had to deal with far worse music taste than this. 

Lewis snuck glances at you the entire time, thinking you wouldn't notice until he accidentally caught your eye. He broke the silence first.

“Can I ask you something?”

You gave him a tiny smile.

“You're already asking me something.”

“Walked right into that one,” he replied. “Look, did I make things…awkward back there?”

You messed with the zipper on his jacket for a bit before answering.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” he tugged at his earlobe, where he had gotten a pair of silver piercings ever since he found out that they were allowed at work. “You just…you kinda looked at me weird, so I thought maybe I'd crossed a line.”

When you looked up and met his eyes, his features were tense with concern, eyes just slightly glazed over from all the alcohol. You felt a pang in your chest.

“I was just a little caught off-guard,” you reassured him, trying to keep your tone casual. “You're good.”

This answer seemed to satisfy him, and he relaxed, leaning back into his seat with a sigh.

“Good.”

Your address was the first stop, and you reached for the car door handle before stopping short. 

“Almost took your jacket,” you smiled back at Lewis as you unzipped and handed it over to him. “See you Tuesday?”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took it gingerly, looking as if he didn't want to have to take it back.

“...Yeah. Goodnight.”

“ ‘Night.”

Luckily, the car had stopped right in front of your door, so you only had to rub your arms for a few seconds before rummaging through your purse for your keys. You flipped on the light switch as the warmth of your own home relieved you. The lavender scent packets you had scattered around the house seemed to be doing their job, the scent of which made you drowsy. 

As you kicked off your heels, another smell caught your attention. It seemed to be wafting off of your clothes. You lifted your collar to your nose to identify the scent: something woody and spicy that you recognized.

Cologne. 

Lewis’ cologne must've transferred from his jacket, and now your work clothes were going to smell of it for the next few days until you did your laundry. But you were too tired to even remove them, and your lids were getting heavier by the second.

You ended up falling asleep on your couch, smelling like him.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Zombie Apocalypse: Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen (2)

Part 1

In an alarming blur of white and black, Gojo introduces himself by jumping in front of you from above

“Hi there (Y/n)! It’s a pleasure to meet you! Chu! You’re as gorgeous as your blood tests suggest.”

“Oh, my Plasma. Please stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Yeah, even I thought that sounded freaky.”

“Well (Y/n) something you’ll find about me is that I’m a freaky guy~”

“Please stop.”

Meeting the eccentric head of the fortress puts you in a spin

Dragging you to dinner and then to some of the activities the fortress has

With a blindfold that occasionally lifts to show striking blue eyes 

You nearly forget to ask the question that introduced him in the first place

“Hey Gojo?”

“Yes, Cutie-pie?”

“Uh…can I get clearance to see the other survivors.”

He gets real quiet 

his smile fades a little but not enough to mean anything

“Why Star-face? I thought you liked all of us over here?”

“I do. I just want to see my group. It’s only been a day but–”

He puts a finger on your mouth not exactly in a shushing motion

But he ushers you away from Yuuji and Megumi who were fighting over a painting

Taking you farther away from all the other members of the fortress he leads you up some stairs

Finally reaching the roof of one of the buildings you can see the other half 

A less developed place

The homes are close, filled with people, and it’s a lot less lit than the areas you’ve been

“That’s where the other survivors go…you want to go down there?”

You hesitate but not for long

“Yeah if my group is there I think we should be together.”

He sighs running a hand through his white hair before taking off his blindfold

Now you can see the way his light eyes dart over the people below 

He laughs 

“That man…with the purple vest pushed a pregnant woman into the horde when they were cornered.”

He doesn’t look at your horrified expression 

Only pointing out a few others who’ve committed something awful

“Why do you let them stay here then? If they did these horrible things?”

“Because they came with those who need us. But too many of them practically kill themselves if they get too far away. It’s like the way parasites shape the brains of their hosts.”

You didn’t like the implication

“Gojo…why do I have the yellow wristband? And why was I separated from my group?”

He pulled you into his chest rubbing his fingers into your side

“Bug, think of it as us intervening before the Parasite gets their final claws in you. Your special and perfect for saving.”

“Wait but my group isn’t–”

“Hush, love. I’m sure you're tired. Today has been a long day for you.”

He ignores any protests from you and only gushes about what you’ll do tomorrow

You stop trying because you are tired 

Letting him lead you back to your room in the tower above the fortress

“Have a fun time, you two?”

“We had a great time!”

He kisses the black-haired scientist before helping himself into your room

He goes through your closets, the bathroom, and your bag still ranting about nonsense you don’t understand

Suguru gives a comforting pat on the back

he gives you a clean version of your pajamas before bidding you goodnight

“C’mon Satoru you’ll get to bother (Y/n) tomorrow.”

“That’s right and I don’t even have work tomorrow so I’ll be with you allll day!”

“Alright, out mister. Goodnight (Y/n) we’ll tell the kids you said so too.”

“Uh, goodnight.”

When the door finally closes you’re able to think about what he said

And then you fall asleep 

Maybe he’s got a point

“So how’d it go?”

“They were asking about the wristband.”

“The whole time?”

“Only at the end, made up somethin’ about parasites.”

“Oh, their friends? I hope you didn’t suggest they were in that town.”

“Eh-I dunno! Can’t you make up something about them being immune?”

“Maybe but it’s going to be hard convincing them.”

“Who cares? We got ‘em now, right? I’d say we try whatever we want.”

“You’re right we do got ‘em.”

They’ll just have to accept whatever we say

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[pinkofatom]

Virtual Environment

CW: brainwashing, mind control, femdom, femsub,

Hi hi~ if you liked this story or any of my other ones, please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi

Enjoy 🩷

Jocelyn hesitated with the headset cradled in her hands. It looked harmless enough — sleek, matte black, wires coiled like a resting snake — but something about it made her throat tighten.

"Just an hour," she murmured to herself. "In, out. Easy."

She wasn’t nervous, not really. She’d tested half a dozen VR environments before. But those were games, simulations with borders and clunky mechanics. This — this was different. The developers had called it "adaptive cognitive immersion," whatever that meant. She hadn’t asked too many questions. The paycheck was good, and curiosity was stronger than caution.

Still, as she slid the device over her head and the lab’s sterile white vanished behind the loading sequence, a flicker of doubt surfaced.

Then the world bloomed.

It was too beautiful. That was her first real thought. A warm wind stirred her hair, carrying the scent of baked bread and wildflowers. Sunlight filtered through painted-glass windows above narrow stone streets. Townsfolk moved around her with purpose — faces calm, eyes too focused. No jittering animations, no audio glitches. They looked — real.

Jocelyn blinked, turning in place. "Okay," she whispered. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

She walked slowly at first, testing the controls—but there weren’t any. Her legs moved, and her avatar obeyed as though there was no interface at all. She reached out to touch a stone wall, half-expecting her hand to phase through it. It didn’t. The texture was rough, sun-warmed.

A passing vendor smiled and nodded. Jocelyn smiled back before catching herself.

Why did that feel so natural?

She shook her head, frowning. No reason to get spooked. The program was just well-designed, maybe even too well. But as she moved through the digital streets, something coiled quiet and cold at the base of her spine.

The people here seemed so happy — unnaturally happy. It was as though she were in the center of a stage play. No one argued. No one shouted. Every smile was easy, every action deliberate. Even the dogs that weaved through legs and carts wagged their tails with perfect timing — not like animals at all.

And the clothes — Jocelyn paused, noticing for the first time how all the women wore silk skirts and lace-up corsets, hair curled into intricate braids and smiles always coy, lashes lowered.

Something — not quite discomfort, not yet — settled over her as she walked, her own t-shirt and jeans beginning to feel inappropriate. The looks she was getting weren’t subtle; they felt like hands skimming the contours of her body.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

This was definitely something the creators had to work on more, she decided as she passed a tailor’s shop and a blacksmith. They had built something amazing here, no denying that, but the environment was too — perfect. While the people looked real, their actions were too scripted. Not to mention how each character looked far too beautiful. Jocelyn felt like she had stepped into an uncanny valley. The environment around her was so immersive that the cracks stood out, almost unnerving in how apparent it became after a few minutes.

The further she ventured from the starting point, the stranger the townspeople seemed to behave. A man approached her, dressed in a fine jacket and holding a walking stick, his smile broad and welcoming, though his eyes held an odd intensity that made her feel exposed.

And the women were even weirder. Every single woman seemed to move through a cloud of heavy perfume — not to mention the way each and every single one seemed to sway her hips, their hair falling in perfectly styled cascades down their backs. Their eyes never failed to catch hers, smiles almost uniform.

"Good morning, sir," she said cautiously, dipping her head.

"Ah, a traveler! A wanderess!" he laughed, twirling his cane. "And without any proper clothes."

His gaze slid down her form and Jocelyn suppressed the urge to turn and walk away. She had a job to do, after all.

"I was hoping there would be a shop nearby for women’s apparel." The words sounded foolish as she spoke them. "Could you direct me there, please?"

"Oh, but I could do much more than that, lovely lady! Laura, take the traveler to Madame Myne's shop," the man declared with a flourish, pointing toward the end of the street where a stone cottage with stained glass windows stood.

As Jocelyn looked, she saw another young woman dressed in a short skirt, white tights, and high heels standing at her side with a smile. "Follow me," the girl said, not waiting as she walked ahead.

Blinking, Jocelyn followed on unsteady legs.

It felt like an invisible line connected them together, and she couldn’t help but admire the graceful curves of this new character, the perfect shape of her ass hugged tight by the fabric. Her own clothes felt even rougher against her skin now, chafing in ways that she’d never noticed before.

Laura held the door open and Jocelyn slipped inside.

Madame Myne's shop was a flurry of fabrics and corsets, the scent of roses filling the air so heavily that Jocelyn had to blink. Women milled about in lingerie and half-fastened gowns, laughing and chatting — or staring blatantly, their gazes slow and assessing as though she was a cow in an auction pen.

But what sent shivers down her spine was how blank and artificial that joy seemed, each sound too calculated, every smile practiced in the mirror a hundred thousand times. Their faces were eerily smooth, perfect masks of contentment and ease. There were no bags under their eyes, no frowns of worry, not a trace of anything but blissful ignorance. Jocelyn felt her stomach clench with unease. Yet on her face, lips curled into a smile. There was no way for her to force it away.

Before Jocelyn could turn to Laura for answers, a tall woman with lush, auburn curls and a deep red dress swept in — a goddess made of silk. Madame Myne herself.

Her voice was soft, yet it rang with an unshakable power, sending chills up Jocelyn's spine.

"This is the visitor," she mused, eyes tracing Jocelyn’s form like a brush. "Such a lovely young woman — but so rough. Uncut, if you will. I have the perfect attire, something to polish her potential — we shall start with lingerie. Follow me, dear."

Jocelyn's heart raced. She wanted to flee. But the game’s script moved her, the smile frozen on her lips, her body stepping toward Madame Myne.

"This is just a test, no need to panic," she whispered to herself. But her breathing grew shallow, her fingers twitching.

Madame Myne turned her gaze on Jocelyn, her expression a portrait of calm dominance.

"There's a need for you to relax. I’ll assist." The words seemed to wrap around Jocelyn's thoughts as though a sedative had been administered.

And she felt her fear begin to fade — or had it merely slipped from her control? A weight settled in her mind as if her own thoughts, once sharp as blades, were being dulled. Her smile softened. Her eyes glazed over, taking on that same vacant quality the rest of the world shared.

"No need for that," Laura replied, smiling gently as she took a place behind the traveler and placed her delicate hands onto Jocelyn's shoulders. Her fingers squeezed lightly. "Relax your muscles," she cooed softly, her voice a perfect lullaby for Jocelyn’s nerves.

As Laura's touch soothed the tension from her body, Jocelyn felt her apprehension ebb, like an incoming tide drawn back by an invisible moon, replaced by a growing warmth that spread from the pit of her stomach. That heat, unfamiliar yet all-consuming, blanketed her mind and blurred the lines between her body and Laura’s gentle touch.

"Very good," purred Madame Myne with a slight nod. Her piercing eyes never wavered from Jocelyn, her presence alone exuding dominance. Yet, Jocelyn didn't flinch under her gaze, didn't pull away from the intimate touch of Laura. The room was silent for a few moments as the older woman circled Jocelyn, the soft rustle of fabric mingled with Laura's melodic hum and Jocelyn's steady, calm breaths.

"Laura, be a dear and undress our visitor," Madame Myne instructed.

Laura smiled softly, "Of course."

Jocelyn's clothes seemed to evaporate under Laura’s deft hands, slipping from her body as easily as shadows retreat from light. The act of undressing felt almost ritualistic, intimate, and hypnotic. With each discarded garment, a layer of Jocelyn’s protective exterior peeled away, her sense of self. Soon, her clothes lay pooled at her feet, an afterthought.

Jocelyn's body stood naked and exposed before the two women. Yet, she felt no embarrassment — as though modesty was an alien concept to her, an archaic principle that no longer held sway.

Similar she could not remember, why she came here. It all felt distant, foggy, like a memory of a dream. Her thoughts were syrup-slow, and each moment felt stretched, drawn out, impossibly detailed — and delicious.

"Let's find the perfect outfit for you, dear," Madame Myne mused, her voice resonating through Jocelyn's body like a perfectly struck chord, sending shivers across her bare skin. Her lips curved in a gentle, knowing smirk, "I have something to suit your new needs. And trust me, you're going to feel very good." Jocelyn’s thoughts struggled to surface through the thick cloud that had descended on her mind.

And as Laura reached to caress her, it felt as though she was playing an exquisite instrument. Laura's deft fingers danced over Jocelyn’s breasts, teasing, circling, her warm breath tickling Jocelyn's earlobe. "Don't worry, the Madame will make you beautiful - like all women should be," hevr tone, rich and velvety, poured over her like honey. With each touch and whisper, she guided her towards a state where reason surrendered to sensation, where desire, pliant and willing, became her only constant.

"First the right undergarments to display these gorgeous assets of yours," the Madame continued, "you have quite the beautiful pair." As those final words escaped her crimson lips, Madame Myne’s hands cupped Jocelyn’s breasts firmly and confidently.

Laura's fingers, light as feathers, trailed down the sides of Jocelyn’s body, sending cascades of shivers in their wake. A faint sigh of delight escaped her mouth, unbidden and soft, blending into the air as a gentle, lilting melody. Laura's expert ministrations coaxed her breasts to attention — hard nipples jutting forward, as if aching to be admired.

"Lace and silk. Black of course." Madame Myne reached behind one of her many dressers and pulled a sheer corset that shimmered in her hands, the lacework delicate and intricate as if made of spun gold, its dark shade a promise of sensuality.

Laura's nimble hands, working with an effortless rhythm, encircled the lace garment around her chest, slowly guiding the silken straps in place, pulling and tugging to snug perfection. As it tightened around Jocelyn’s frame, her spine instinctively straightened — but it didn’t feel constrictive in the slightest, it just gave her the correct posture. Her already impressive bosom swelled even fuller under the corset's embrace, a tantalizing spectacle, as the stiffened fabric pushed the roundness up, offering it to the world's appreciative eyes.

In Jocelyn's mind the sticky mess of thoughts molded into a fresh and compelling shape. Every pull, each adjustment, they smoothed away her inhibitions.

"Now the legs. That wet slit doesn't need to be covered, after all," the Madame mused, a gentle yet commanding hand cupped the space between her thighs, "so a garter and stockings should do, Laura," she commanded. Laura had already fetched a pair of ebony-hued thigh-highs that shimmered under the light.

One leg at a time, Jocelyn found herself carefully lifting each foot while Laura’s fingers, masterfully, rolled the delicate fabric up the supple stretch of Jocelyn’s legs. A garter was soon strapped in place to keep it all in place. Laura smiled at her and Jocelyn smiled back.

She could feel her very nature morph and shift under their skilled fingers. Independence felt unnecessary - so distant - replaced by a newfound desire to be shaped by these hands of velvet authority. There was an intoxicating allure to the idea of surrender — a delicious paradox of submission and power. And Madame Myne was the perfect architect of her metamorphosis. The woman’s presence loomed larger and larger the longer Jocelyn stood there - a deity in her own divine, decadent domain.

"Wonderful. You are coming along well. This next piece of equipment should help," the Madame said. She then picked up an object Jocelyn did not understand. Some sort of jewelry, some sort of adornment - it glinted and glistened in her grasp, "Bend over," she said.

Jocelyn obeyed instinctively.

Then with a smooth, practiced motion that was almost too swift, Jocelyn felt something slide inside her tight hole.

"This will help you with your posture." Madam Myne patted the travelers newly plugged buttocks with a loving, soft caress. The plug felt so good inside of Jocelyn's bottom, filling her in such a satisfying way. More of her mind took on the new shape.

"Laura, there’s the perfect shoes for her at the top." Madame Myne nodded at another nearby drawer without breaking contact.

"Yes, Madame!" The younger women quickly grabbed a pair of shining black stilettos, heels long, pointed, and deadly sharp. Each shoe glimmered, their black leather polished to perfection as Laura gently guided each foot into the cool interior.

As the stiletto-clad feet touched the floor, Jocelyn steadied herself against Laura's reassuring grip, adjusting to this unfamiliar but exhilarating sensation of height, her legs sculpted and elongated, the pressure from her plug and corset intensifying. More and more her thoughts aligned with those she saw in the world around her — women dressed to accentuate beauty, women always smiled and agreed.

"Now that you have been adorned in your underthings, I think you must need a nice dress, wouldn't you say so, dearie?" asked the Madame.

"Yes, that sounds like it would feel amazing," Jocelyn agreed without thinking about it first, her tone docile and compliant, almost intoxicated by her own surrender to the older woman's control.

"Of course it does." The Madame gave Jocelyn's behind a clap of her hand and then let out a pleased sigh as she looked the young woman up and down, "You're taking well to the adjustments. Better than most. Truly this test run has been one of the most promising. So here is a special reward. A nice docile girl needs to wear something that signifies her obedience. So, I was thinking — a maid outfit," the Madame declared as she rummaged through the wardrobe until her hand pulled a black and white uniform out with a triumphant smile. She looked Jocelyn up and down, her eyes tracing her curvy form and smiling softly as she spoke again, "Perfect."

"Let me dress you," Laura cooed in Jocelyn’s ear, her words warm and overly sweet. And her arms reached around, wrapping Jocelyn in an intimate embrace before slipping the silky fabric over her head, sliding it down the contours of her breasts, past the flare of her hips.

Each inch the garment moved refocused Jocelyn's mind. Neurons stopped firing in a natural way. Memories were buried, connections severed, replaced by a mindless acceptance and hunger. A small wet spot spread on her thigh highs. The young traveler, once an individual, was now being crafted into something new. A tool. A woman who needed only the approval of others.

The Madame stepped closer and adjusted the skirt's hem to a scandalously short level, her fingers lightly brushing against Jocelyn’s thigh in a gesture of playful intimacy, sending sparks along her spine.

Jocelyn curtsied demurely, the action instinctive. "Thank you, Madame," she whispered.

With an appreciative smile, the Madame took a step back to survey her work. “Yes, my dear, you look lovely," she purred, her tone filled with satisfaction.

"Good work, Doctor Hill," echoed a familiar male voice through the shop. Jocelyn turned to see the same sharply dressed gentleman who had ordered her here.

"Doctor Kantz," the Madame chided, "please don't break the immersion. The changes have yet to settle, as you well know." Despite her gentle reprimand, a wry grin danced upon her lips.

"According to the data from her device, she's fully indoctrinated and will respond to commands," he countered.

The woman arched an eyebrow. "Truly? Jocelyn, dear. Please tell me, what you worked as, before coming to my shop," she commanded.

A pause stretched between them. "I — I was a traveler," Jocelyn finally murmured. Her brows knitted together in concentration, a desperate attempt to gather wispy memories, "No — that wasn't right. I was a —" but the words slipped through the cracks, the memories shattering into an abyss. A sense of loss and frustration washed over her as she stood there.

"I guess she's not all gone yet," Doctor Hill replied with a grin. "And that is why we still have to be present. Believe me, I would love it, if a programmed agent like Laura here could handle the process on her own."

The younger woman with her perfect smile, simply stood straight at attention.

Jocelyn blinked. "Programmed — agent?" She asked, her words coming out slowly as her mind tried to catch up with what was happening around her. She felt slow. And that feeling of slowness was — fine. It was right. That was who she had always been, right?

Doctor Hill — no Madame Myne, clicked with her tongue. "Jocelyn, be a dear, and forget everything that was said since this gentleman entered the shop." She waved her hands at her companion. The words hit Jocelyn's ears with a softness akin to a feather, the gentle insistence of a lullaby coaxing her to forget her doubts. The fog within her mind, once momentarily dispelled, settled back with an eerie tranquility.

Her mind bent under the command of the Madame. "Yes, Madame."

Madame Myne approached, a soft smile playing on her lips as she reached to cup Jocelyn's chin. "What a sweet, good girl." Jocelyn basked in the warm glow of the older woman's approval, feeling her body soften in response. "Now stop listening until I touch your right shoulder. Simply bask in the sensation of your new clothes. And self."

Madame Myne nodded and Jocelyn slipped into the blissful emptiness of her mind.

"Now we can talk," the older woman declared.

"You have done a wonderful work," the man said, stepping forward as he admired her. His fingers reached out to playfully lift the hem of the new maid uniform.

"She'll make the perfect employee," Doctor Hill nodded. "How is the progress with the other subjects?" Her voice sounded serious now, no hint of her sultry purr present.

"It could be better. While all have reached a desired level of compliance, some still retain too much of their memories — creating the occasional outburst," Doctor Kantz answered.

The Madame shook her head and let out a soft sigh, "Any leading theories as to why," she asked.

Doctor Kantz pulled a thin pair of glasses from a case in his pocket and slipped them on his face.

"Just one. You designed this simulation in a specific way, right," he said, as he pointed toward Jocelyn. The young maid simply smiled at the two doctors, her gaze unfocused, a contented look on her face as she swayed lightly in place.

Doctor Hill nodded in agreement. "I did. Everything in here is an elaborate visual stimulus to encourage obedience, subservience, and servile thoughts," she explained, her hand sweeping across the room to indicate the lavish shop, "it's an uncanny valley design. Everything looks ordinary on the surface. But it's slightly tilted to encourage a certain way of thinking. Too perfect environment. Similar uniform people. And of course, Laura here, who has been trained specifically for this project. Once a subject comes to question their environment, our AI has them fall in line before they get too curious."

"I see," Doctor Kantz nodded. He reached up and pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, "then we have to conclude that traditional methods like subliminals and conditioning in a VR-environment are simply too slow." He paused, then took another glance at Jocelyn. She stood patiently in place, her eyes unfocused and a slight smile playing at her lips.

"So, obedience and conformity, where the results you wanted," he asked, his eyes never leaving Jocelyn. Her chest rose and fell with her calm and measured breaths.

"Yes. Obedience was the key part of my programming here," the Madame explained. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "As for the compliance — you said you wanted the perfect employee, and someone willing to take direction, correct," she asked.

The doctor nodded. "That's right. We are already testing something less ethical. Why not profit completely from it," he mused.

While the two conversed, Jocelyn was blissfully unaware — trapped within the soothing haze of her mind, oblivious to their words. Her thoughts had been neatly corralled. Every attempt at independent inquiry met the stern resistance of the new mental architecture constructed within her, leading back towards an empty, blank void where only pleasure existed.

Then a finger tapped her shoulder. In a flash, the world regained its vibrancy and her eyes fluttered as though waking from a pleasant nap. Her attention snapped to Madame Myne.

"Jocelyn, dearie, can you tell me what you are," the older woman commanded, her tone gentle yet laced with a subtle power. The sound of it sent shivers through her.

Without hesitation, the words tumbled out, "I am a good maid," she declared, a faint flush of pride tinting her cheeks at the realization.

"That's right! And what do maids do," Madame Myne pressed further.

"We take care of our employers, Madame," Jocelyn answered dutifully. She could almost feel a chain around her mind that led straight toward whoever commanded her.

"You'll obey and do anything that they say, right," she questioned with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh — of course, ma'am. Anything they require," Jocelyn replied, her tone earnest. She could sense the weight of submission in the air.

"Then, we are done. Please remove the headset and wait for me on the other side, dear. It's time to see how the changes carry over," the older woman ordered and Jocelyn immediately began slipping off the virtual reality helmet.

As she removed device, the digital landscape dissolved into a clean and sterile room, a sharp contrast to the opulence she had just left behind.

Jocelyn looked down at her own body. Drab clothes hung loosely, ill-fitting and shapeless, a mockery of the uniform she fit so well. She shivered slightly. She needed new ones.

With a hiss, the door of the lab swung open, and Doctor Hill strode in.

Without prompt Jocelyn stood up, and curtsied as well as she could with her own ill-fitting garments, "How may I assist, ma'am." The words dripped from her tongue before her mind had a chance to catch up.

A smirk of satisfaction tugged at the corner of the doctor's lips as she surveyed her new subject.

"I am glad to see the transfer worked so well," Doctor Hill said, her eyes glimmering with a strange mixture of scientific detachment and triumphant pride.

"Let's get you some more appropriate clothes, and then you will happily sign a contract," the older woman spoke with an assertive, almost casual tone, that resonated through the small space of the lab.

"Yes, of course ma'am." Jocelyn murmured demurely.

Hours later, Jocelyn stood in an office at attention. Dressed once again in a black and white uniform tailored to her form, she looked completely at home in her role as the maid — the only role she has ever known.

And when Master Kantz and Mistress Hill ordered her to join their bed — all Jocelyn felt was happiness.

[seungrem]

lee felix x m!reader

‘Work Husband’ ~*+

summary: Transitioning into a new department can be tough. Luckily, male!reader’s new boss pairs him and Felix together- the two almost immediately having great chemistry. Work-relationships almost always develop into something more, right?

( overview: office AU, soft-top!felix since u guys want it so bad, bottom!reader, smut obviously, protection and all of that, bj + anal, discreet/hidden but in office )

emoji theme:

🪐 ( office AU )

+❄️ ( +18, mdni )

🌱 ( short fic, oneshot - barely 1k words )

☁️ ( = y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“Welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you join us here.. and I’m sorry about your former office.”

A large wooden desk with a few tan files sat inbetween ☁️ and his new boss. Shedding beams into the room, the sun’s golden rays illuminated the frosted glass surrounding the two. ☁️ shook his head lightly, him then smiling at the older woman.

“It’s no problem. As long as this department isn’t anything like the other, this’ll feel like a promotion.” ☁️ brushed his hand against his navy blue sweater and sighed. “Thank you for having me.”

“Like you said, this is kind of like a promotion. I expect great things from you.” The boss stood up as a soft knock erupted from outside of the office. A man with long-ish blonde hair walked in and smiled- first at the boss, and then to ☁️.

“This is who you’ll be assisting. Felix will give you written pieces and ask for revisions until he sees that it’s fit to be published. Unfortunately, we are short staffed by choice, so the work load will be a lot. Please keep up with the given tasks and their deadlines. Felix?”

☁️ turned his head back to the man.

“Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Lee Felix and I’ll be taking care of you. I look forward to working with you.”

☁️ simply smiled and spoke a shy “hello,” as he stood up. “I’m ☁️, it’s nice to meet you as well.” He then thanked the boss for her time and followed Felix out of the room.

“Behave, Felix!” The boss shouted as ☁️ stepped out of the room behind the man. He followed Felix down the left side of the large room, stopping at a set of cubicles that sat against a wall of windows. Started from the floor and touching the ceiling, the view displayed a bustling city. The cubicle was light gray and quite large, with a grey laptop located on the desk inside. Felix walked in and pulled out the large cushioned chair, and looked around awkwardly.

“So.. this is where you’ll be spending a majority of your day. Since it’s so spacious there’s only two cubicles located against the wall on this side of the room. My area is directly in front of yours.” He pointed over the cubicle wall. “If you ever need anything, please just walk over or.. just look over it. Sound good?” Felix explained, his voice soft yet sonorous.

☁️ nodded and smiled bashfully. Felix was remarkably good-looking, which was unusual for an office setting such as this one. The man was pretty much ☁️’s type, too, making him even more nervous than he already was.

“Yes. Thank you, Felix.”

Felix smiled and nodded to the man before leaning against the cubicle’s entrance. He dug his hands beside his white button-up and down into his black pant’s pockets, waiting for ☁️ to sit down before responding.

“Of course. I’ll let you get used to the office before I ask you to do work.”

☁️ acknowledged what he said by nodding and smiling.

After Felix left, ☁️ opened the new computer and typed in his passcode information. For some reason, the office wifi wouldn’t connect, though. After trying for another minute, he stood up and peered over the wall to see a sitting felix.

“Felix?” ☁️ asked, his nose just barely peaking over the wall. Felix smiled and stood up to look over the wall as well.

“What’s up, love?” He asked, placing a hand on the edge to support his weight. ☁️ was initially taken aback by the pet name, but ultimately didn’t mind.

“I can’t get onto the wifi for some reason. Is there a different one that you use?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I guess our tech guy forgot to set that up for you. Jisung always forgets.”

☁️ watched a Felix closed his computer and then made his way back over to his cubicle. As a result, the man sat back down and perked his back up to fixed his posture. Felix strolled in after a few seconds and leaned into ☁️’s computer, his body softly brushing against the man’s shoulder. ☁️ couldn’t take his eyes off of Felix’s side profile as he typed into the computer.

“All right, you’re all set.” He cooed, brushing against ☁️ once again. As Felix was about to leave the cubicle, ☁️ shot up and grabbed his hand. Surprised, he stopped and turned around, still holding ☁️’s hand.

“Sorry if this is weird to ask, but..” ☁️ paused and tilted his head. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Oh, no.. not really my type if you know what I mean..”

“Oh okay.. then do you have a significant other- or something?” ☁️ asked.

“No,” Felix smiled and tightened his grip on ☁️’s hand. “but I think I kinda have a crush.”

☁️ knew exactly what he meant and mentally blushed. “Same here. Maybe we could go out sometime?”

“For sure. What’d you have in mind?”

“Would you wanna.. come to my place?”

Felix looked to the side, and then back to ☁️. “We don’t have to wait. Here, follow me.” He said, leading ☁️ into a storage room a few feet away from their work areas. Though the lights were extremely dim as the two hurried in, ☁️ could see the many drawers, bulletin boards, and spare furniture. Felix lightly closed the frosted door and somehow locked it from the inside, him then turning his attention to ☁️. He grabbed ☁️’s hands and held them in his own.

“Do you mind?” Felix asked as he raised one of the man’s hands to his mouth, kissing it. ☁️ shook his head and wrapped his arms around Felix’s neck, Felix reacting by guiding ☁️’s back into the wall behind him. ☁️ pushed Felix’s head forward, allowing the man’s lips to meet his own. Felix’s hands ran down ☁️’s torso, then settling on his hips as ☁️ began french kissing. Felix’s grip on the man’s waist tightened the deeper they kissed, with Felix’s bulge now rubbing against ☁️’s. A few seconds later, Felix pulled away from ☁️- strands of his blonde hair having fallen over his eyes.

“Come over here.” Felix instructed, using a hand to drag ☁️’s wrist over to a small table sitting against the wall. Felix gently pushed ☁️’s shoulder down as he leaned back on the table, leaving ☁️ to fall onto his knees. With a growing bulge right in front of his face, it was only natural for ☁️ to begin unbuttoning the man’s pants.

“Ah.. you’re excited, aren’t you?” Felix teased, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He ran a finger through ☁️’s hair as the man exposed his dick print, ☁️ then pulling the pants down to Felix’s ankles. Felix began unbuttoning his white top as ☁️ stroked the man’s boner through his gray underwear.

“Can I take it out?” ☁️ asked, continuing to caress it. Felix finished unbuttoning his top, displaying sculpted abs much to ☁️’s liking.

“Go ahead.”

☁️ slowly pulled the man’s underwear down, not anticipating getting smacked by his length.

“Oh, sorry.” Felix laughed. ☁️ rolled his eyes and smiled, him then beginning to stroke Felix’s cock, the man softly whimpering as he did so. ☁️ grinned at the reaction, placing Felix’s dick inside of his mouth and slowly throating it. He leisurely bobbed his head up and down as Felix threw his head back, practically moaning out now.

After a few seconds of steady swallowing, Felix quickly grabbed ☁️’s head and yanked it back. His dick fell out of the man’s mouth dripping in saliva.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to finish yet.” Felix said, kneeling down to match ☁️’s eye level. “Can I get some of this too?” He whispered as he got closer to ☁️, him then reaching behind the man and squeezing his ass.

“Oh, do you have a condom?”

Felix reached behind him and magically pulled out a wrapped condom and a tiny bottle.

“Of course.”

☁️ furrowed his eyebrows and muttered an “alright.” as he followed Felix’s action of standing up. Felix’s skinny dick was still hard and poking out in front of him. Pulling his own pants and underwear off with quickness, ☁️ placed a hand on Felix’s chest.

“You can sit or lay on the table if you’d like, or you can-”

“You should let me do the work.” ☁️ murmured, softly pushing Felix back. Felix smiled and nodded, sliding back to sit on the table. He rolled the condom over his dick as ☁️ climbed on top of him, the man placing his knees beside each of Felix’s thighs. Waiting for him to pour the liquid onto his dick, ☁️ wrapped an arm around Felix’s neck- the man’s chest inches from Felix’s face.

“Alright, go ahead.” Felix muttered, placing his hands on ☁️’s waist and guiding the man down onto his cock. As his pink tip slipped in, ☁️ moaned out and tightened his grip around Felix’s neck.

☁️ now sat entirely on Felix’s dick, moaning softly as he took his time to undulate on it. The two huffed and whimpered as ☁️ began moving steadily on Felix’s dick, with ☁️’s chest still inches from the man’s mouth.

“That’s good.” Felix whispered, his eyebrows furrowed and his ajar lips producing silent moans. ☁️ felt Felix’s lips on his nipple a second later, him sucking and licking as the man bounced. ☁️ sped his undulating form up as Felix moved his hands down to ☁️‘s ass. Guiding him up and down even faster, ☁️ quickly became overstimulated. His knees buckled and he fell into Felix, who pulled away from the man’s nipple and placed his chin into ☁️’s neck.

“Can you keep going?” Felix hummed into ☁️’s ear, rubbing up and down his waist as he waited for an answer. After another few seconds, ☁️ pulled away from Felix and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, you can keep going.”

Felix nodded, pulling ☁️ into him and wrapping both of his arms around ☁️’s waist. As Felix began thrusting softly into him, the man wrapped both arms around Felix’s neck. Felix grunted as his thrusts picked up in speed, filling the room with the sounds of clapping and ☁️’s whimpers. Both of their moans hummed in each other’s ears, pushing the two to the brink of finishing.

Felix continued shoving the man onto his dick despite feeling ☁️’s knees buckle for a second time. As ☁️ felt his leaking dick brush against Felix’s rough abs, he threw his head back and gasped. He ejaculated, painting Felix’s abs in a glistening white liquid. The man thrusting into him noticed, and became even more turned on, using all of his force to drill into ☁️.

“I-I’m cumming.” Felix gasped. After a few more seconds of harsh and sloppy thrusting, Felix forced ☁️ onto the entirety of his length, filling the boy up with his semen.

The two breathed heavily in front of each other before Felix fell back onto the table, pulling ☁️’s arm as he did so. ☁️ fell on top of him, his energy drained. The man pulled Felix’s dick out of him and slid the condom off, bringing it in front of him so that he could tie it and throw it aside.

“I would’ve lasted longer if you weren’t so cute.” Felix muttered, stroking ☁️’s arm as the two laid still.

“It’s okay, there’s always next time.”

“Yeah.. and I’ll be sure to take you out to dinner beforehand.”

☁️ chuckled at the comment, planting a kiss on Felix’s puckered lips. “I’d like that.”

“I would too, love.”

a/n: writing smut is saurrr boring but i hope u guys like this lil top felix moment. i still think he’s cuter as a bottom lolll :,)) alsoo lowkey im desperately waiting for someone to request an indie movie plot so i can write smth cute, request awayyy!

likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[radicaldreemurrs]

ok you are going to have to elaborate on your transfem kris reading. like are they still nonbinary or are we making them a girl. bc if its the second one 😬

well, you're the one ascribing the binary of options here, you tell me.

obviously i'm not forcing them into a binary position, i too am a nonbinary transfeminine person, and also not an idiot. "nonbinary" is already an umbrella term with infinite depths of nuance (it has not been made clear if it's even one they identify with!!), and i think the only case in which kris would be "a girl" is being susie, who already has implications of nonbinary feelings going on with her, too!!

but kris is so, so visibly written to be read as having been coercively assigned male at birth. the chapter 3 egg sequence has signs that proclaim that "THIS IS A MAN'S WORLD", with one sign that feels almost hastily compensating: "NON-MEN ARE A-OK, TOO!" the way that noelle describes riding a ferris wheel with them as "forced", and how that hurts susie just as much (susie also has many implications towards being a trans woman violently alienated from femininity), is textbook internalized transmisogyny, with this idea that trans women are actually men preying on girls like noelle who can't fight back. NOT TO SAY NOELLE MEANS IT LIKE THIS, she probably doesn't realize how much what she's saying hurts and why it does, but her parents are not the most especially on the level with this stuff (rudy is kind of a misogynist even if he plays it off), so we can see where she gets it.

kris themself is also forced into a position of inflicting violence on monsters with a sword, a distinctly male role in older video games. the chapter 3 secret boss route elaborates on this a lot further, especially around their dysphoria based in being a human in a town of monsters, being someone who could quite possibly kill everyone in town without any difficulty, based on how humans are described in undertale. their struggles with identity are definitive to so much of the game, including ralsei, who as mentioned in a previous post is kris's gender feelings projected off of them and into their shadow so they can focus on the grim task at hand. but while having to deal with all of this, kris and ralsei have begun to develop apart, and kris is starting to see things they want to be outside of what ralsei is defined by, they're starting to break out of their old dreams and have new ones, ones about susie, dess, dogs. cool girls have an impact on them, they want to be something like that.

does this mean they have to be A Girl? no, there could be plenty of nuance to all of this, just like with anyone. they would still probably present androgynous, or at least like the cool older girl that wears flannel all the time. they might flinch away from wanting to be called a girl, and that would be completely understandable, because they are well within their right to have complicated feelings about it. don't just break it down into "are they Nonbinary or are they A Girl" as if that's not creating another visible binary. it's not so black and white. you can be many things. you can be a boy and a girl at once. no one can stop you from identifying however the fuck you want.

[astarion-approves]

Astarion & Tav taking a bath together? Something gentle and intimate but non-sexual? ♥️

Astarion x Gender Neutral Reader (Tav)

Tag: 1.6k+ words, SFW, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, bathhouse, No Smut, Drabble, Short & Sweet

“I had no idea that there even was a bathhouse in Baldur’s Gate.” Tav mumbles as they followed behind Astarion, leaving their camp behind in search of a place for a fresh bath. They both carried their own bags, Tav carrying a change of clothes and a bar of soap. Looking at Astarion’s bag, it looked much heavier.

Astarion glanced back to Tav with a boyish grin. “There’s more than one, of course. I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the free ones though. No, for us, we’re going to take a bath in luxury.”

Read below or on Ao3

Please like and reblog ~

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

“I had no idea that there even was a bathhouse in Baldur’s Gate.” Tav mumbles as they followed behind Astarion, leaving their camp behind in search of a place for a fresh bath. They both carried their own bags, Tav carrying a change of clothes and a bar of soap. Looking at Astarion’s bag, it looked much heavier. 

Astarion glanced back to Tav with a boyish grin. “There’s more than one, of course. I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the free ones though. No, for us, we’re going to take a bath in luxury.” 

“Luxury…,” Tav said with a wince. “How much is this going to cost me?” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s on me.” 

“Wow, Astarion, it’s almost like a date.” 

“Hah!” Astarion barked a laugh. “You wish.” 

The bathhouse was huge, the outside painted a bright, flawless white with an emerald trim accenting the pillars and fencing that surrounded it. Two large gold doors signified the entrance, the level of elegance screamed ‘high class.’ 

Once inside, Astarion strode ahead, already reaching for his coin bag and requesting a private room for himself and Tav to share. Tav watched as the woman working the front desk counted the coin, a ridiculous total of 75 coins for a single bath. 

With a room key in hand, Astarion clicked his tongue for Tav to follow, apparently not even phased by the amount of coin he willingly spent for the night. This is the same man who haggled over the cost a black dye with a child two months ago. 

Tav supposed it was fine to splurge every once in a while, but they couldn’t justify this. “I could have split the cost with you,” Tav said. 

Astarion fiddled with the key, inserting it into their room and twisting his wrist to open it. “Nonsense. Besides, part of the reason I brought you here is to protect me while my head's under water.” 

“Right…” Tav nodded. Something that Astarion had admitted months ago.. nearly a year now. During a night of passion, their lips locked together in a heated embrace. But it didn’t feel right. The shock in Astarion’s eyes when they pulled away still pains them. Instead of moving forward and having one another… they talked. They’ve been close friends ever since, giving Astarion the freedom to be open with his fears, to admit why he attempted to seduce Tav in the first place. 

Protection. 

And even now, as Astarion stripped down to nothing, Tav smiled knowing that he felt safe with them. 

The room wasn’t massive, but still larger than any shower room Tav had ever seen. The walls were painted into a beautiful scene, one to trick your mind into thinking you were bathing in nature, surrounded by trees and a waterfall nearby. Tav swore they even saw the leaves move as a subtle breeze rolled through them and through the room.

There was a single shower and a very very large bath. Steam filled the room, the bath already filled to the brim with hot water, which flowed over the sides and into the drains on the floor beside it. 

Tav sighed happily as they undressed along with Astarion and stepped up to where the shower waited for them. The floor was hot beneath their feet. The air, although steamy, felt as refreshing as standing at the top of a mountain. 

Astarion began unpacking his bag, removing item after item and placing it beside the shower. 

After six different items were removed Tav just had to ask, “Wait, just how many products do you use for your hair?” 

“Products?” Astarion put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Tav, these are just shampoos, conditioners, hair masks, oil, and a hydrating leave in gloss… do you not take these steps with your hair?” 

Tav runs their hand through their hair, shrugging. “No?” 

“What? Gods, you’re an absolute savage. Come here.” Astarion grabbed a large bucket that was resting off on the side, turning it upside down and making a temporary chair. “Sit.” 

“I can wash my own hair—“

“Sit, Tav. I won’t say it again.” 

Tav knew better than to argue and, with a sigh, they plopped down onto the bucket. Soon after, Astarion was turning on the water. It was hot and relaxing, pouring down the top of their head and running down their body. 

“Okay,” Tav whispered. “I understand the luxury bath now.” 

“Oh, darling. We’re just getting started.” 

Astarion poured shampoo into his hands, rubbing his palms together before sliding them into Tav’s hair. 

“Oh—“ Tav gasped, their head falling back and into Astarion’s chest. 

He chuckled, his finger’s massaging and scratching at their scalp as they worked the shampoo into their hair. “Do I dare ask how you’ve been washing your hair all this time?” 

“Cold water and a bar of soap.” 

“Like I said, an absolute savage. What ever would you do without me?” 

“Uh… Continue bathing with cold water and a bar of soap?”

Astarion tugged on their hair, laughing. “Smart ass.” 

Soon he was pushing their head back under the flow of water, rinsing out the shampoo and then continuing with the conditioner. 

Tav breathed in deeply, their eyes closing as they allowed Astarion to take care of them. And Astarion held them so gently, his finger’s threading through their hair, his nails pressing against their scalp and moving to the back of their neck. Each stroke sending shivers down Tav’s body as Astarion massaged the conditioner deep into their roots. 

“Feel good?” 

“Mh.” Tav hummed, shifting their head and resting the side of their face into his chest. 

“Ah, no falling asleep. Not yet. Rinse this out and jump in the bath.” Astarion pushed Tav forward, back into the water and let the conditioner wash out. 

“What about the other stuff?” Tav asked. They looked to the pile of other products, not wanting Astarion to stop yet. 

“Cute,” Astarion said with a small smile. “That comes after the bath. Now hurry up.”

Tav pouted as they stood, giving Astarion the space to sit down. “Do you want me to wash your hair—“

“Bahah! Absolutely not.” Astarion laughed and reached for his shampoo, one of many. “I have a very strict regiment.” 

“Oh…” 

Astarion sighed and looked back to Tav. “Maybe next time.” 

“There’s going to be a next time?” 

“By the Hells, Tav, just get in the damn bath.” 

Turning away from Astarion, Tav did as they were told. Hissing as their toe touched the water, it was even hotter than the shower. Soon they were sinking into it completely, moving to one edge of the bath where there was a bench under the water to sit and rest. They let their head lean back on the edge, their eyes closing as they allowed themselves to relax. 

They don’t know how much time passed before Astarion joined them in the water. The vampire sitting next to them and joking about how it looked like he was the one doing the protecting here. Tav simply reached for Astarion and pulled him into their arms, snuggling against him and pressing a single kiss to his shoulder. 

“Sleepy, are you?” Astarion slouched in the water, allowing Tav to cuddle him however he wanted, but he still felt a little stiff. “Looking for a cuddle?” 

Which they’ve never done before. Not since that night. 

Tav cracked open one eye, looking up and into Astarion’s deep blood red eyes that gazed back at them. “What are we?” 

Suddenly the tension in the room grew thick, Astarion saying nothing and only continuing to look back at Tav. 

Then he hummed, finally ripping his gaze from Tav. “Two friends, sitting in a bathtub, and they’re not in love.” 

“We’re not?” 

“Well..” Astrarion cleared his throat and continued, “I can’t speak for your lovely little self but—“ He paused, lifting a single hand from the water to cup Tav’s cheek. “Maybe I am? Honestly, Tav, I have no idea.

“We’ve been friends for so long… but I know that I would die for you. I wouldn’t die for the others. I would fight for them, but I wouldn’t die for them. And I miss you when you’re not around me. When you leave camp to go to Gods knows what— washing your hair with fucking sewer water—“

“—I use water from a lake.” 

“Or buying me avocados because I ask you too—“

“—What do you even use them for?” 

“My hair.” 

“Really? Avocados?” 

“Yes, it’s very good for your hair, Tav. Can I continue?” 

Tav laughed. “Sorry, yes.” 

“I don’t know what love is… For so many years, sex, lust.. any sprinkling of romance all ended in disaster… What I feel with you is different. It’s so much more than anything I’ve ever experienced, and we’ve never even fucked! It’s all so strange to me.” 

“You don’t have to have sex to be in love with someone, Astarion.” 

“Yes, I know that now, but… for the longest time— I didn’t. I want to explore this with you.” Astarion sat up, pulling Tav along with him. “Whatever this is.” He placed his hand against Tav’s chest, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes. “I want your heart to beat like this, only for me. I want to finally know what falling in love is truly like…With you.” 

Tav took Astation’s hand, gently pulling it away from their chest and bringing it to their lips, pressing a small kiss on the back of his knuckles. “I love you, exactly as you are, and I’ll never need anything else from you. We’ll take this as slow as you need to.” 

Astarion smiled, lowering his head and resting his forehead against Tav’s. “Thank you..” 

“Of course,” Tav replied and sank back into the hot water, taking Astarion into their arms once more. This time, Astarion let himself mold into their arms, closing his eyes, relaxing, and enjoying the protection and understanding that Tav offered. 

[hadesoftheladies]

actually, I DID have gender dysphoria as a teenage girl without being exposed to anything about it on the internet, on top of "racial dysphoria" and body dysmorphia

there were points I DID want to kill myself because i wasn't, or bleach my skin or change my body, i would have done anything to be a white boy at one point

which is both sad and funny to me because i remember two of my then good friends explain being enby and transgender to me and me being like "that doesn't make any sense" and it's because of trans-discourse we eventually broke up. the closest i ever got to accepting trans-ideology was transmedicalism with weak support for "queer" culture. i did not understand pronouns, but i understood dysphoria. but i did not understand how one could be a man or woman without the sex characteristics.

how did i heal?

one, i left church. that was one of the places i was most scrutinized for my physical body. two, i distanced from my parents, especially my mom. who often made my ocd and body-image worse (not because she was mean, but because she was always fretting about "decency"). three, i focused on bettering my personal space. writing, reading, watching my comfort shows, getting the focus off me. four, i started eating better, and my body became less burdensome. i stopped getting horrible period pain. five, i surrounded myself with self-confident women and stopped trying to resurrect toxic friendships with girls and boys (especially boys). started eliminating each toxic friend and focusing my efforts on healthier relationships. six, i'd started educating myself on my own history, watching and listening to more black and African people. even when i didn't enjoy what they made or resonate with it, i found i appreciated the experience and could allow myself to hate or love whatever i found.

by the time i discovered radical feminism, this was like, the final step for me: consuming women-centric literature and media. this was HUGE. i'd see paintings and photography of women in all shapes, colors and sizes. i'd listen to master musicians, read women philosophers, anthropologists, etc. this started mending a lot of what caused initial disquiet when it came to my dysphoria or dysmorphia.

basically, i took myself out of bad environments (especially those which force you to scrutinize every detail about yourself, like social media, i took long breaks from that), drew boundaries with people i couldn't get rid of, learned about myself (ocd, dyscalculia, anxiety, female biology) so that i developed understanding and could empathize, stopped centering men and white people.

now, while there's still a hint or trace of dysmorphia and dysphoria, it doesn't plague my life. it's like the occasional itch. more of a mild temptation to go down a dark hole than an actual threat. and i've learned how to handle those.

i learned the root of things. not just my history, but the root of how society worked and how it affected me. and i'm still learning, and my life is still improving.

so yeah, girls and women going through this is normal and common. anyone who is used to who they are being shameful is more at risk (like gnc lgb kids), but you can recover. usually better if you get out of the places that are making you sick.

[heylittleriotact]

𝐸𝓂𝒷𝒶𝓁𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒾𝒹:

Used to preserve deceased individuals, sometimes only until the funeral, other times indefinitely.

(for @emmg who was thirsty for Emmrich porn avec whiskey dick and I am nothing if not accommodating)

Under the cut and on ao3

Hours had passed since they first set foot in the high-class cocktail lounge tucked behind a secret entrance down an unsuspecting alleyway in Minrathous.

That should have been his first clue that this night was going to end up wildly out of hand. This was no humble tavern with a starving bard strumming their lute in the corner, singing about some woman named Sera while a harried barmaid slung pints of warm ale and unidentified meat to patrons, warding off the occasional pinch to her rear with quick fingers that told just how long she’d been tending bar in the city.

No, instead of a bard, there was a somber, balding man at a harpsichord in the corner, dispensing sophisticated chamber music, and there was no barmaid in sight: only a portly middle-aged Orlesian man who introduced himself to Emmrich and Amina as ‘Guillaume’ and walked with a labored gait that Emmrich suspected immediately to be caused by an active and rather nasty flare-up of gout.

There were no windows in this cocktail lounge, given its exclusive and ‘well-hidden’ existence, and the only light sources were small oil lanterns placed on each of the small round white-linened tables. 

A password. They had needed a password to be admitted into this place. 

While admittedly some part of him felt thrilled at the cloak-and-dagger charm and implication that attending this venue was somehow rebellious in nature, he did think it a bit ostentatious, even for his tastes, but Neve had suggested the lounge, going so far as admitting that it claimed the spot at the top of the list of venues to take dates she was really interested in.

Emmrich didn’t ask where she ended up taking the ones she wasn’t as optimistic about.

Guillaume hobbled over to their table and folded his white-gloved hands before inquiring if the monsieur and mademoiselle would like another beverage. They probably should have stopped two or three rounds earlier, truth be told, but conversation flowed so naturally - so easily - between them, and they simply never ran out of things to talk about.

Emmrich watched Amina lift the little leather-bound menu and squint in the dim light as she attempted to discern the feathery cursive on its pages. A thick strand of her bone-straight black hair slipped over her shoulder as she leaned forward, humming thoughtfully and tugging up the neckline of her plunging burgundy top as if the motion would do anything to protect her modesty. They were both more than a few drinks in, and she wasn’t a heavy drinker to begin with, so about an hour earlier when she’d beckoned him close over the table and whispered in his ear that she wanted him to cum in her mouth later, he knew she was properly in her cups.

He decided he was too as he tilted the empty crystal glass in his hand, watching the large cube of ice within drift over the bottom until it met the side. He’d had what… five or six whiskey cocktails and that one with the gin, vermouth, and olives? Spaced over the three or so hours they’d been here, there was no denying the light around the lanterns had developed a misty glow and he felt very relaxed… and increasingly distracted by the curve of her breasts peeking over the top that was doing its very best to conceal them. 

“I’ll try the Sazerac, please,” she primly closed the menu and held it out to Emmrich, who accepted it from her, arching a brow discreetly in her direction when he felt the pointed toe of her nugskin heel travelling sensually up the inside of his leg under the table, staring at him with kohl rimmed eyes and drawing her lower lip through her teeth like she was a housecat ready to pounce on a fat songbird - him. 

She knew what those naughty little shoes did to him, the minx. 

“One more of these, if you’d be so kind,” he lifted the empty glass and tried his best to sound cordial and unassuming as Amina’s foot meandered up his thigh and the sole of her shoe came to rest on his crotch, which enthusiastically responded to her attention. “And we’ll settle up with you as well, please: we’ve another engagement this evening we must be off to.” He grabbed Amina’s ankle to halt her taunting movements against him, and she shot him a coquettish smile over the rim of her tinted coupé glass before tipping it back and draining the remnants of the cocktail - some concoction of gin, wildflower wine, elderflower, and bitters, among other things… he’d had a sip: it tasted floral and lively like a late spring breeze dancing down a winding country road on a clear day.

Guillaume tipped his head and limped away, returning a few minutes later with the cocktails and a handwritten bill tucked into a little leather folder which he placed in front of Emmrich without hesitation after setting down the drinks. 

As soon as Guillaume was far enough away, Amina reached over the table for the folder, but Emmrich snatched it away, holding it out of her reach.

“This doesn’t concern you, darling.” 

Her outstretched hand did not move. “Don’t be ridiculous, Emmrich. This is hardly my first time at a place like this - I know this isn’t a cheap night.” How lovely she looked with that delicate rush of colour over her cheeks and nose.

Emmrich thumbed the folder open and skimmed over the bill, his expression stoic. “No darling, but I knew before we started seeing each other formally that you’re a woman of expensive tastes.” 

Expensive tastes to the tune of precisely two-hundred-forty-seven gulder… and an appropriate gratuity on top of that. He withdrew his purse from the inside of his waistcoat to start counting out coin. 

Amina knocked back half her Sazerac in one go and said confidentially, hiding the side of her face with her glass so no one but him could see her mouth, “You’re right about that, but there is something I know that you don’t, Professor Volkarin.” 

“What might that be, Ms. Ingellvar?”

She leaned close - almost close enough to taste the booze on her breath. 

“I’m not wearing any underthings.” 

His cock twitched and he felt the colour in his cheeks deepen further at the thought of her warm, wet cunt separated from him by only the expanse of table linen and expectations of public decency. It wasn’t that he needed to drink to feel attracted to her - no, that came as effortlessly to him as breathing - but in the haze of perhaps one or two too many fancy cocktails, his mind was consumed by thoughts of ravishing her for the remainder of the night and well into the early morning if they could get away with it. 

“What a charming surprise.” He counted out payment, set it on the table, swallowed a good deal of his drink, the burn of it doing little to quell the urgent desire to bend her over the table and bury himself in her then and there. “Finish your drink, darling, and let’s get you home, shall we?”

She was already tugging at buttons and closures by the time they tumbled through the eluvian into the Lighthouse, giggling feverishly and twining around him like an affectionate cat. Her shoes were abandoned in the eluvian room, and her shirt was doffed in a careless heap on the floor at the top of the stairs to the library.

“Remember when I sucked you off by the bookshelf and you were soooo worried that someone was going to catch us?” She grabbed his hand and put it over her bare breast as she meandered unsteadily backwards towards the stairs to their respective rooms.

Filling his hand with the warm weight of her flesh and tugging at her nipple gently, he hushed her inebriated titter with his mouth over hers, knowing full well that he was far too drunk to be wandering around attached to someone at the mouth with his eyes closed, but not able to find it within himself to behave responsibly for a change. 

“Davrin very nearly did: you’re a bad influence, Ms. Ingellvar,” he purred, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and catching it with his teeth. She moaned into the slight hurt and threw her arms around his shoulders, then her legs, trusting him to catch her - which of course he did. He could drink the city of Minrathous dry and he’d never drop her. Not her. Not precious, beautiful, lovely, entrancing Amina…

He carried her all the way down to his bedroom, admittedly a little unsteady on his feet and taking extra care as he descended the stairs from the laboratory into the well-appointed cavern where he slept and kept his personal effects. 

Placing her gently on the bed, he did away with his boots and joined her, crawling atop her and devouring her with another hungry kiss as he slipped his hand up her thigh, past the bunched up hem of her skirt until his fingers met with the dripping heat between her legs. 

“I’m beginning to think you deeply begrudge smallclothes, darling. It seems you’re completely averse to wearing them unless absolutely necessary…” He circled her clit with his thumb almost tauntingly before slipping two fingers inside her, working them slowly, stretching her, slickness slowly travelling down his palm and the back of his hand.

Arching against his touch, Amina groaned. “I never did have much patience for pointless things.” 

She palmed him through his pants, humming approvingly when she found him hard and straining against the material. “I wanna kiss it,” she declared, her voice semi-slurred, looking up at him with glassy eyes. 

“You want to kiss it,” he corrected smarmily.

She poked him in the side, hitting a spot she knew was ticklish and making him flinch, but his fingers remained within her. “This is not… that’s not how one successfully goes about getting their dick sucked.” Despite the admonishment, her fingers worked at the closures of his trousers, and despite the turgid gracelessness of her motions, she managed to free him.

Leaving the comforting warmth between her legs, he fell to the bed, still completely clothed, and Amina slinked downwards, bending her legs at the knee behind her and crossing her feet at the ankles as she rested on her belly so he could enjoy the sight of her petite little soles and well cared for toes while she sucked him off because she knew he enjoyed that. 

How lucky he was. How unexpectedly fortunate to find himself on this harrowing but exhilarating adventure of a lifetime to begin with, and then to find companionship as well? True, genuine connection with another person that he hadn’t felt in years - he certainly hadn’t responded to that letter from Bellara requesting a meeting operating under the assumption he would find himself entangled with someone as wonderful as Amina... 

There was little refinement to her approach of pleasuring him - no slow, sensuous teasing with that tongue of hers, not tonight, oh no: her nose was already already buried in his pubic hair, and the tip of his cock was residing somewhere in the neighbourhood of her tonsils. Uninhibited by the numerous cocktails she’d downed, she was going down on him like he was her last meal and it sent his mind reeling to witness her so liberated and shameless in her movements and actions.

Her eyes met his and she let his cock slide from her lips, a fat rope of saliva still tethering him to her, and the naughty thing actually winked at him before a heavy bead of drool dangled from her open mouth and spread over him, the heat and depravity of it forcing the air from his lungs. 

Working the slick all over him with her callused hand, he watched her and something in his brain stopped working altogether when she lowered her head and enveloped him again, her sage green eyes locked on his the entire time.

Messy, sloppy, unseemly. Every memory of a polite greeting and an understanding smile held in sharp relief against the undisciplined young woman currently slobbering on his dick.

It was exceptionally attractive.

But then something was off. The steady thrum of his pulse beating hard through his nethers vanished with worrying haste.

Oh no… 

No-no-no-no… 

No?

He dared a glance at her and could tell in the instant before his eyes snapped shut from sheer embarrassment that she had indeed realized that something had changed as well. Specifically his cock, and the firmness of it - it was rapidly softening in her mouth… practically deflating in her hand, the blood fleeing from it deciding to circulate elsewhere at the worst possible moment. 

You loser, Volkarin!

He could practically hear Johanna’s snide tone in his mind. Why he was hearing her voice in his internal monologue at this exact moment in time was a mystery to him, but that didn’t change the fact that he heard it like she was kneeling on the bed next to him, berating him directly. 

Amina’s lips twitched upwards in a helplessly sympathetic expression that for the first time in his life had him considering that embracing death might not be so terrible as she continued to do her best to resuscitate his wilting manhood. 

A few drinks and your boudoir performance turns into a mummer’s farce! She’ll come to regret crawling into bed with your feeble bony carcass if this is the best you can do! Poor thing… her, to be clear - not you. I knew you were a lightweight, but this is pathetic!

Too much time had passed with neither of them saying anything - it was becoming increasingly awkward as moments ticked by and his traitorous loins continued to play shy. 

One of them had to say something. 

It had to be him. 

“D-darling–” he stammered uselessly.

Amina sat back, tucking her legs beneath her, his limp cock flopping against his trousers with all the sprightliness of a dead herring. She rubbed her palms on her thighs and blinked rapidly. “It’s… it’s fine!” The put-on shrillness of her voice told him that it very much was not fine. “If it wasn’t doing it for you, you could have just said so.” Her lip trembled and she looked at the pillow above his head instead of him. 

Fade take him: she thought he wasn’t enjoying himself - that she was the reason for his… impotence. 

“No, no, no, dearest - that’s not true at all!” He scrambled for words and her wrists so he could pull her close and try to at least undo some of the damage that had been done, knowing from the redness of her eyes and the knit of her brow that it was far too late: she resisted his gentle tug and stayed sitting on her knees between his legs. 

Of course they were both drunk, and where he found himself unable to perform, she found herself weepy. 

Oh dear.

What a mess he had made of an otherwise lovely evening…

“You must believe me that this isn’t your fault, darling. I… I’ve had too much to drink, I’m afraid, and, and this is tremendously embarrassing - I… this doesn’t happen often, really, I swear, and I want nothing more than to make love to you, it’s just… I just…” his face felt redder than it had all night and the amount of liquor he consumed had nothing to do with it. 

Amina hiccuped wretchedly and finally let him pull her down against him so he could wrap his arms around her and stroke her beautiful night-dark hair. 

“Let me make it up to you?” He murmured drunkenly, softly tracing the shape of her ear with a finger. “Just because I’m not up for it - much to my own chagrin, I must emphasize - doesn’t mean you need to go to bed unsatisfied, hmmm?”

“Please Emmrich, it’s not any fun if you’re doing it out of pity,” she groused into his shoulder, her dissatisfaction with his proposed arrangement apparent. 

What was he to do? He hadn’t run into this particular difficulty with a partner in so long that his memory strained to recall how he’d handled it back then. It seemed cold and uncouth to shrug his shoulders and call it a night, leaving her unfulfilled, but there was little chance of him finding arousal again in this state… not for a few hours at least.

“We… we could try again in a while, perhaps?” He offered weakly, hating himself, hating his uncooperative anatomy, and hating the very existence of the spirit known as whiskey. It would be a miracle if she wanted anything to do with him after this…

Amina heaved a tormented sigh, still not lifting her head from the space between his neck and his shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things for me if you don’t want to. It just makes everything… weird.”

He shifted his shoulder, lifting her face from him and then cupping her cheek, forcing her gaze to his. “I do want to though, darling, don’t you understand?” Her fingers found his wrist, warming skin and gold under her searing touch. “I am consumed by thoughts of you from the moment sleep leaves me in the morning to the very moment dreams find me at night, and those dreams have been conquered by you too.”

His other hand skimmed up her thigh, back underneath her skirt, finding her heat again. She shuddered against his touch, still wet and engorged, and he bitterly wished his cock could replace his fingers. 

Would it be like this after he achieved lichdom? Certainly there would be… changes to their intimate dynamic, but would it be fraught with this same awkward tension that currently lingered unpleasantly somewhere between resentment and pity? 

He considered this previously unconsidered eventuality as he laid her down on the sheets and spread her open, filling his nose with the scent of her - feminine and lively: a natural blend of salt and sweetness and sweat that made his mouth water reflexively.

That scent would no longer exist for him after lichdom. Not without olfactory receptors lining the tissue of his nasal cavity. It was indeed difficult to the sense being replaced with something better, but being able to smell was vital to being able to taste, and as he lapped at her deeply, tonguing her hot flesh as one would indulge in a ripe, messy summer peach, something twisted in his chest, compounding the pre-existing misery caused by his inability to perform.

One hand gripped the top of her muscular thigh, the other stretched over her lower belly, covering it almost entirely, hovering over her womb that was hidden under a network of muscle and sinew.

He would no longer be able to taste her, nor would he be able to please her in this way either. 

Never again would he feel her warm juices dripping into his mouth and rolling down his cheeks, saturating the hair above his lip and dwelling there so that he would catch scintillating traces of her in the hours afterwards, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the memory of her underneath him, chanting his name as he brought her over the edge.

He undid her with ease despite his inebriated state, knowing exactly where and when to lick, how hard, and when to introduce his fingers again, working them inside of her in tandem with his tongue against her clit. 

Touch would still be an option, he supposed, crooking his fingers towards himself and finding the rough, textured spot within her that immediately made her hips buck and her thighs clench against his head. She moaned his name and he placed a gentle sucking kiss on her clit, then told her she was a good girl before returning to his ministrations - and his ruminations.

Would she even desire that, though? Not being able to jointly enjoy each other intimately tonight clearly hadn’t sat well with her, so what were the chances that she would be satisfied - let alone eager - to find release by way of skeletal - albeit loving - hands, and whatever metaphysically similar connection he might unlock?

Would she even want him to touch her anymore once his flesh was shucked away eternally, replaced by linen wrappings and the illusion of a glamour that catered only to the sense of sight?

Her knees pressed against the sides of his skull so hard he thought she might crush it, but he did nothing to remove them or attempt to ease her grip.

How would he even kiss her without lips? Embrace her? Comfort her with his body that was rigid and hard and hollow and cold? 

How could he be anything for her in that form?

… What if she decided she wanted a child?

He liked to think that she would see past it - that her true feelings and affection for him would outweigh her apprehension and need for physical connection - that lichdom and all that came with it outweighed the confines of mortal flesh. But as Amina’s fingers curled in his hair and she gripped him hard as she spent herself, her sweet release gushing down his throat, he knew deep down that the chances of her seeing it that way was about as likely as his cock coming back to life tonight. 

Even still, he couldn’t find it within himself to think her shallow or unfair for it: while he was pleased at the sight of her panting and gasping for breath from his place between her legs, he missed at least having the option to incorporate his own anatomy into their activities, and it was just natural fact that having had a cock for the entirety of his life up until this point, the prospect of having to part with it wasn’t at the top of the list of things he looked forward to experiencing when he finally attempted lichdom.

He should be above such things. He should be beyond such attachments if he was truly ready for the gift of immortality.

He finished licking up every drop of her from her perfect sex, then tucked her in, then tucked himself in alongside her. He smoothed her hair as she nuzzled into him, exhausted and blissed-out as he knew she would be. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he told her.

“Don’t be,” she mumbled sleepily, already dozing off, uncaring that they were both at least partially clothed. 

He wanted to do as she said, but as he watched her fall asleep in his arms he couldn’t.

Couldn’t let go of the sickly, creeping feeling that he was going to lose her when all was said and done, and this was only a glimpse of a not-too-distant future. 

The next morning, despite the vicious hangover that was ravaging the insides of his eye sockets and his stomach, he dragged an equally hungover Amina to the market in Treviso and wouldn’t let her leave until he bought her three new pairs of shoes, an expensive new perfume to replace the passable but cheap label she normally wore, and a tasteful but very authentic gold anklet with half a dozen flawless sapphires along the chain. 

It was obvious to both of them what he was doing: making up for his dysfunction the night before. 

But it was more than that for Emmrich. This wasn’t just an apology - it was a promise: I might not be able to please you in the ways that you deserve and desire, but you will never feel unloved. You will never want for anything. 

That’s enough, isn’t it?

I’m enough?

He remained unconvinced.

[janeyseymour]

Hi, I feel like there’s not enough jealous Melissa fics, so I wanted to request one where reader is a new librarian, and because she dresses really nice Ava immediately takes a liking to her, and Melissa gets jealous because she takes a liking to her too. But obviously at the end Melissa x reader end up together. Can have smut or not, your choice. Thank you!

ask and you shall receive! i hope you enjoy!

Love In the Library

WC: ~3.9k

Your interview at Abbott had gone well- perfect, even. The principal of the school was full of life, and you could tell that you were going to absolutely love it here as librarian. She seemed just as thrilled that you were joining their team- apparently they haven’t had a librarian for a good chunk of time.

You walk into the school on the first day of professional development dressed well- you figured it would be a good idea since Ava dressed so nicely, and you were aware that the students wore their light blue uniforms.

As you enter, you’re greeted by the principal, who tells you that the first meeting of the year will indeed be held in your space, which is entirely fine with you. Hopefully, you’ll be able to meet a few of your coworkers and find the group that you’ll find yourself a part of- that would be nice. First days, even first weeks and months can be daunting, and it’s always a bit easier when you find people who might be in your corner.

You’re seated at your desk and looking over the catalogue of books you have- seeing how you can begin to organize everything (most things weren’t very organized) when the rest of the faculty starts to trickle in. You smile at the few who walk in first, but it immediately becomes a bit overwhelming when more and more people start to make their way in. You find yourself to be grateful that you have your own assigned spot at your desk. They all converse and catch up on what they had done over their summers, and you don’t really know how to insert yourself into any of those conversations, so you just look around and try to find anybody who might be kind to you.

As you’re people watching, a small group of teachers come in. In that group is a short younger woman, a taller black man conversing with a slightly shorter white man, and two teachers who are clearly veterans. The one is absolutely captivating with her pleather pants, heeled doc martens, and the way that her hair is curled softly and falls over her shoulders beautifully. The light pink shirt that she wears compliments her hair beautifully. You catch her take a glance over at you, and you feel a shiver run through your body as her emerald green eyes sparkle in your direction. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

It looks as though she’s going to make her way over to you, but Ava cuts her off by entering the room in what you can always assume is true Ava fashion, what with the mixed groans from the rest of the staff. You stay seated at your desk and watch as the redhead takes a seat at the front table with her friends. Her eyes linger on you though throughout most of the meeting- you can feel her staring at you. 

You snap out of your trance when you hear your name come out of the principal’s mouth. You blush bright red, but you give a gentle wave of your hand.

Ava really hypes you up, explaining that you’re the best thing that’s come around to Abbott in quite a long time- that you’re a bad bitch with good fashion, fashion that almost competes with hers.

You see the way that the redhead rolls her eyes at that comment before looking you up and down.

The meeting drones on for a while longer before the staff is able to participate in a few different seminars or set up their classrooms.

You have your head down as everyone mills around, mingling and heading out. That is until you see a hand on your desk. When you glance up, there are those striking green eyes that were staring at you through the entirety of the meeting.

“Hi?” you squeak out.

“You the new librarian?” the redhead asks.

You nod and swallow before introducing yourself, although you know she already knows your name. “And you?” you ask politely.

“Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher,” she tells you, and you shake her hand firmly. “I’m gonna need one of the copies of the book, The Name Jar.”

You nod and smile. “I can definitely find that for you. It’s for a beginning of the year lesson, I assume?”

“It is,” she says shortly.

“I’ll have it for you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you,” the second grade teacher smiles at you.

You’re able to locate the book relatively easily, and with a bit of exploring the school, you’re able to find the classroom that has her name on it. She’s in the process of writing out name tags for her students and putting them at the desks when you knock on the door gently.

She glances up at you before pushing her glasses up and off her face, resting them on the top of her head.

“Just dropping off the book you requested,” you say softly. “Is there anywhere specific you want me to put it?”

She stands up straight, rights her shirt, and gives you a genuine smile. You love to see that smile of hers. 

“I can take it,” she says softly, and she makes her way over to you. Her hand brushes yours for about half of a second before she actually takes the book from out of your hands, and you swear you feel a rush of electricity between the two of you. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile right back, and she immediately wants to always see that beaming look on your face. “If you need any other books, let me know. I’m going to try to have the library organized by the end of September.”

When you go to get your lunch, the redhead is there, and so is your boss.

“There’s our sexy new librarian,” Ava winks at you. You turn bright red. You know you’re… not the ugliest women in the world, but this is a lot. “Girl, don’t act like you don’t know you look like a Philly eleven in that sexy dress of yours.”

You chuckle nervously as you glance down at the dress you were done up in. You look at the other teachers, and maybe you were a bit overdressed. “Have a nice lunch, guys,” you say as you go to head back to your room.

“I ain’t stayin’ in here to listen to your boring teacher talk,” Ava sighs dramatically. “But I’ll see you all later, losers!” She winks at you again, and you can feel the blush that had begun to diminish come back in full force.

“Oi,” you hear Melissa call out as you’re at the threshold of the door. “Come eat lunch with us.”

You don’t notice the strange looks that your coworkers give the second grade teacher, but you smile softly. 

“Really?” Janine asks, jaw dropped.

“Oh, it’s… okay,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You ain’t intruding,” the second grade teacher is adamant, so you sit down next to her.

Barbara looks confused, but she doesn’t say anything at all. The teachers take their time getting to know you, and Melissa’s eyes find yours quite a few times, giving you reassuring looks and smiles.

You head out a few minutes before everyone else, and once you’re gone, Melissa’s friends look at her like she’s got three heads.

“What?” the redhead asks as she sips her iced tea.

“When did you get all friendly to newbies?” Barbara asks.

“Seriously,” Gregory puts in. “When I first started, you refused to learn my name for the first month I was here.”

The second grade teacher rolls her eyes. “And look where we are now… might as well give it a shot being nice to the newcomers.”

Barbara eyes her warily, but she doesn’t say anything in front of the full group. When the two of them are walking out though, they see you.

You wave quietly as you stack your things into your car to continue working on your organization, and the gorgeous teacher waves back with a smile.

You climb into your car, pull on your sunglasses, and head out. 

“Girl, you like her,” Barbara nudges hr best friend.

Melissa rolls those green eyes of her. “Yeah. I’m the queen of England too.”

The kindergarten teacher hums, and while she doesn’t say anything, she knows that her work wife has a thing for you. It’s clear in her eyes and the way that she invited you in so sweetly.

“Well, maybe this will be good,” Barb states. “We have a new librarian, she seems like a sweet girl, and Ava isn’t making fun of her.”

“No,” the redhead frowns. “She’s flirting with her instead.”

“That a problem for you?”

“Shut up. I’ll see you tomorrow,” the redhead rolls her eyes as she climbs into her car. 

The next few days of development go the same for you, organizing the many books, going through the catalogue to see what books you might be able to add to the collection 

(whether that be from home or you can try to scrounge up the money to buy them at a thrift store). Melissa often appears in the library, claiming to look for a book, but most of the time she just ends up chatting with you- you don’t mind one bit. You sit with them at lunch, and you quite enjoy getting to hear Melissa laugh and listen to her talk.

Ava still flirts with you everyday, and while her compliments are appreciated, you never fail to turn as red as a tomato.

When the kids start to come into the school the following week, a few of the older ones are shocked to actually have a librarian. Furthermore, they can’t believe that they’ll actually have library as a special.

You begin to learn the children, and they absolutely adore you. You have quickly become one of the kids’ favorite teachers. In the first month alone, you’ve been given a ream of papers’ worth of drawings- it melts your heart. The older ones come and talk to you in the mornings before they actually have to head to class, and the little ones flock to you for hugs whenever they can. It’s safe to say you love being here at Abbott with these kids.

It’s also safe to say that you like most of the staff that you’re with, although you’ve found yourself a part of a certain group; one with the most attractive teacher in the school: Melissa Schemmenti.

You find yourself being drawn to her presence, and she’s drawn to you too. You spend your time with her and Barbara as often as possible, more than happy to listen to whatever the two of them are up to. 

But with being friends with them also brings Ava around quite a bit. She is constantly looking for the two of them for advice on how to discipline and run the school. It also gives her an excuse to come flirt with you. Her comments are starting to get more and more scandalous, and she’s practically taking off your clothes with her eyes any time she’s talking to the three of you. You notice the way that the redhead seated next to you almost always scowls.

You almost wonder if you should go to HR for her looks and words.

“Melissa,” Barbara singsongs as the two of them are leaving lunch that day. Ava had come in and shamelessly flirted with you. “Turn that frown upside down!”

“I ain’t in a mood, Barb,” the second grade teacher grumbles.

“That face says otherwise,” the kindergarten teacher clicks her tongue. “When are you just going to admit the fact that you hate that Ava flirts with Y/N because you like her?!”

“I do not,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I just think Ava needs to stop eye-fucking her anytime she sees her.”

“While I agree with that,” Barb sighs. “No one gets nearly as upset with that as you do, and I think it’s because you genuinely do have feelings for her.”

Melissa bites her lip. “So what if I do? It don’t matter. She’s young, I’m me. And we’re coworkers.”

“Being her boss isn’t stopping Ava from flirting with her,” Barbara points out. “C’mon. Just give it some thought.’

The redhead groans. She knows her best friend knows about her little crush on you now.

The next day, Barbara waltzes into Ava’s office.

“Girl, I wouldn’t usually condone this, but you need to continue to flirt with Y/N as much as possible.”

“That won’t be hard,” the principal laughs. “She’s a fine piece of ass. But why?”

“Melissa has a huge thing for Y/N, and I can just tell that our little librarian has a thing for Melissa too. You know the best way to get her to confess her feelings is to make her so jealous she can’t bite her tongue any longer.”

“Damn, you don’t think I got a shot?”

“Ava,” Barbara rubs her temples. “Might I remind you that you are in a relationship.”

“And?”

“Ava!”

“What?” Ava raises her brows. “You think I don’t want to-”

“You know what? Nevermind,” the kindergarten teacher goes to turn on her heels.

“Wait!” Ava calls. “But you really don’t think I have a chance?”

“What I think is that Y/N is a respectful, young woman who would not want to… partake in the activities that you are alluding to.”

“You never know,” the principal shrugs. “What’s in it for me?”

“A nice bottle of wine, and I’ll go out to the club with you the next time you tell us we’re all getting together for dinner but inevitably end up going somewhere else.”

“Oh, hell yeah. But I get to pick the bottle.”

“Only if my plan works, and Melissa and Y/N get their heads out of their asses and date.”

“You have yourself a deal, Barb,” the principal grins before going back to scrolling through Instagram.

Ava’s flirting only gets worse from here, and she purposely does it in front of Melissa whenever she gets the chance. While Barb is naturally appalled at the things that the principal is saying to you, she knows its worth it when she can practically see the steam pouring out of her work wife’s ears.

It’s picture day at school, and you know you’re going to be forced to get your picture taken as much as you don’t want to. So, you apply some light makeup and dress yourself in a white body suit and a flowered skirt that has a rather high slit up the side. It shows off some skin, but you know that you can always adjust the skirt if necessary so it’s not too revealing.

That was a mistake though- or at least you think it is when Ava starts commenting about you having a body that ‘challenges Beyoncé’. Her eyes linger on your still sun kissed thighs as you make your way into the building. You thank her for her compliment, but you don’t play into it any further than that. You make your way to the break room to drop off your lunch and make yourself another cup of coffee when you run into the redhead.

She looks absolutely stunning. Melissa really hasn’t done anything special for picture day- she just always looks gorgeous to you. 

“Hey, good morning,” you say as you fall into step with her. Her eyes rake you up and down, and you feel a blush creep into your cheeks when she subconsciously licks her lips.

The two of you walk into the break room together and are sipping your coffees when the principal comes in again.

She makes an absolutely obscene comment about you and the way that your chest is comparable to that of the redhead’s, despite the fact that you hardly have any cleavage showing. That makes Melissa almost as red as her hair, but she puffs out her own chest. But then… she says something about the slit in your skirt and something about it looks stunning on you, but it would look better on her bedroom floor with her boyfriend.

At that comment, you suck a deep breath in and try to cover how embarrassed your feeling.

“Ava!” Barbara nearly shouts.

“Well,” the principal shrugs at the deafening silence in the room. “I have to go do principal things, y’all.”

As Ava leaves the room, the kindergarten teacher gives Ava a look, but it’s almost a mildly impressed look.

You can’t look at anyone, so you practically rush out of the room with your coffee.

At your sudden exit, Melissa looks furious. “I have to go do some work.” She storms off, and out of the room in order to go yell at her boss for embarrassing you in front of everyone.

“I should check on Y/N,” Barbara says softly before following your direction. She knows that those comments made you more uncomfortable than any of her others, and she knows she has to stop you from making a complaint to the HR department about the conversation that just took place. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Barb says softly as she enters the library.

Your hands are in your head, and the red in your cheeks hasn’t disappeared in the slightest.

“H-hey,” you mumble.

“Don’t mind Ava,” she tells you softly. “She used to say stuff like that to Gregory all the time, and eventually she’ll move on to someone else.”

“Does she always do this? Shouldn’t she get into trouble for that?” you ask quietly.

The kindergarten teacher waves a hand. “Our HR department never does anything but bounce the emails back to the principal of the person who sent them… the last time someone did that, we had a ‘bonding session’ because Janine emailed them. It’s not even worth your time.”

“But… that was…”

“A lot,” Barbara sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know. But trust me on this one: it isn’t worth it. And she likes you, so she’ll be willing to help you out when you need it. If you report her, she’ll only make your life that much harder. Just let her flirting die out, honey.”

You frown. “I guess… I need this job.”

“I know.”

“And I love this job.”

“We love having you here,” the older teacher squeezes your shoulder gently. “And the kids- they absolutely adore you. We hope you’ll decide to stay with us for a long time.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Are you okay other than all of that?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Barbara smiles at you charmingly. 

She exits, and you sigh. You should probably talk to your boss about the things that she  says to and about you… how it makes you uncomfortable. So, with your head down and cheeks still burning, you make your way down to the office. You stop just short of the principal’s when you hear a familiar voice shouting at the woman you were going to talk to.

“Ava!” the redhead storms into the office. “What the fuck?!”

The principal laughs. “What, girl?”

“What the hell was that? The shit you were sayin’ to Y/N in the break room? I know you usually say stuff you shouldn’t, but God dammit, that was over the line!”

“And? Why do you care so much?” Ava asks nonchalantly. “You jealous?”

“Jealous?” Melissa glares, looking utterly confused. “Why the hell would I be jealous of saying absolutely deplorable things to the sweet girl? Why on God’s green Earth would I be jealous of saying the absolute truth that she’s hot as hell?”

Ava smirks. “You think she’s hot?”

Fuck. Melissa’s been caught.

“You think Y/N’s hot?” Ava grins.

“No!” the redhead rolls her eyes. “I just don’t think you should be sayin’ shit like that to her!”

“You think she’s hot!” the principal singsongs. “Girl, just admit it!”

“Okay,” the redhead sighs. “If I admit that I think she’s hot, you can’t keep saying stuff about her like this.”

“Say it,” Ava teases.

“Ava,” Melissa groans.

“Say it!”

“Okay,” the second grade teacher huffs. “I think she’s hot. I like her, and not just for her looks. Now stop talking to her and about her the way that you have been.”

“Girl,” Ava grins. “You want me to flirt with her for you?”

“No,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “If and when I decide to make a move on her, I can do it on my own terms. Remember, I am a Philly eleven.”

With that, she turns on her heel and exits the office… only to bump into you.

Your eyes are wide, your cheeks and ears are burning, and… did she just admit she thinks you’re hot? The woman that you’ve developed a small crush on actually has a thing for you too?

“Shit.”

“Uh…” you nervously tuck a loose hair behind your ear.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asks you quietly.

“I uh, have to talk to Ava,” you evade her question.

You don’t give Melissa a chance to say anything else before you knock on the door and enter before closing it behind you.

By the time you’re finished with your conversation with Ava, you barely have time to run down to the library before you know the kiddos will start trickling in… and you’re not entirely sure you even know how to approach the situation you’ve found yourself in with the redheaded teacher.

That’ll have to wait.

But when you get to the library doors, Melissa is standing there waiting for you. She looks incredibly nervous as she taps her foot.

“Melissa,” you say softly.

She just takes your hand and pulls you into the library before taking you to your desk- which remains just out of sight from the door.

“Shouldn’t you be in your classroom to wait for your kids?”

“I got Janine to watch them for arrival,” she tells you. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” you say softly. “You are a Philly eleven, you know.” 

And then you press your lips gently to hers. She kisses you back just as softly, and you can’t help but pull her in a bit closer.

But then you have to pull away. You know the older kids that come to your room will be there far too quickly, and you really don’t want them to catch you kissing their old second grade teacher.

“Y/N,” Melissa whispers.

“Go back to your classroom,” you say softly. “The kids that come to me in the morning will be here soon, and I don’t need rumors about the two of us going around.”

“Yeah,” the redhead agrees. “That probably wouldn’t be too great.”

You hum.

“So…” she says quietly though. “I’ll see you at my house tonight for dinner?”

You nod.

“It’s a date,” she promises as she squeezes your hand gently. With those words, she leaves your room just as one of your kiddos is coming in.

“Hey, Serena,” you smile softly. You immediately turn on your warm teacher voice, and Melissa can’t help but turn around and watch as the student comes over and embraces you.

The sunlight through the window hits you perfectly, and you look angelic.

While Melissa had initially taken a liking to you because of your looks (you might just be a Philly twelve), the heart of gold that you have is what made her really fall for you.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Rachel Bitecofer at The Cycle: Many times I’ve asked you to imagine what it would be like, what your thoughts, feelings, and beliefs about contemporary America would be like, if you were one of the 100 million plus Americans who can’t name their own state’s senators. Vox dropped a recent piece that is firewalled, but I want you to read this short excerpt from their reporting:

Now, don’t focus on the particular demographics of this particular disenchanted voter. She could be anyone: a man, a woman, old, young, Black or White. Believe it or not, there are even college educated Americans who have this kind of limited, simplistic frame for interpreting political events. Anyhoo, that is a long wind up to get to what I want to talk to you about today which is the sensitivity of the low information public to lies intended to radicalize them.

Team Trump has a shrewd strategy to use obviously illegal executive orders to prepare the MAGA base for rebellion when they are inevitably struck down. An important concept from Introduction to American Government courses is something called the Expectations Gap. The Expectations Gap refers to the gap between what a president must promise to win election (especially to win their party’s nomination) and what he or she can actually deliver through a system intentionally designed to make governing very hard. Unless a president is extraordinarily lucky, like FDR who governed through two crises and used both to reshape the size and scope of government, a president is doomed to over promise and under deliver. All of them.

And that is during the best of times. These are not the best of times. Back in late 2009, early 2010, Republicans developed a keen strategy to try to make Barack Obama a one term president. That strategy was designed to increase the expectations gap by purposefully obstructing major legislation to deny Obama legislative wins. Its a strategy that benefitted Republicans politically so much, it became their go-to strategy throughout the full 8 years of Obama and for 4 years of Joe Biden, with one recent exception: Biden’s Infrastructure bill. They architects of the GOP’s opposition strategy had no idea at the time, but their strategy to starve the public of good government went on to play a key role in creating both the MAGA movement (right wing populism) and the Bernie Sanders movement (left wing populism). When people see their government can’t deliver solutions to their problems (or are told hyperbolic lies like Death Panels) they go a little crazy. And as demonstrated above, few voters have the sophistication to understand that Barack Obama failed to deliver on immigration reform because the Republican House simply refused to allow a vote on it.

[...] There’s just one problem: most of the executive orders Trump has issued to “finally achieve results for the American people” are illegal. Some are so grotesquely illegal they have Supreme Court justices gasping at the lunacy of the arguments coming out of what were once well-respected government lawyers. MAGA doesn’t know it yet, but most of Trump’s executive orders will never have the force of law. They will die quick deaths by a judiciary that overall seems inclined to protect the Constitution’s separation of powers system and maintain the power of the courts to review and determine the legality of actions taken by the Congress, the President, and the states. Unfortunately, Team Trump has been radicalizing the MAGA base for weeks in terms of the legitimacy of the courts.

Donald Trump’s executive orders are all about setting the MAGA base for rebellion when and if they get struck down.

[theyanderebin]

Yantober Day 6! Unothodox Gift!

Not gonna lie was less inspired to write day five so, uh- Just scooted over that one. I've got something for it. Just not feelin' it!

This was fun though! I thought the energy of this one was a little bit funny.

Briefly noted fem reader, in only like the 2nd paragraph i think-

(As always, prompt courtesy of @ozzgin's yantober list which is right here!)

It's about 850 words!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a throbbing inside your skull, screwing your eyes tighter. Your body on something significantly harder than your soft mattress at home. Arms bound securely behind your back and your ankles simply ties together with a thick rope. "What the fuck?" You thought, your stomach twisting as fear bubbled up inside it.

"Now really," A familiar voice, from where? "You know that's not her colour at all dear." The woman chided someone. "I was just suggesting. I mean we only have so many options.." A man replied gently. You knew these voices… why? Cracking one of your eyes open, standing over you were a roughly middle aged blonde woman in a lengthy cardigan looking over at a man with dulled black hair and a tiredness to his face. "Oh.." rang through your head, "Oh! what the fuck!?" Your eyes staring widened at them both. "Well we have time," She said, "And if we don't find the perfect colours tonight we can simply go shopping for more." She reached in into a dark cloth bag and pulled out a ribbon of slightly shiny fabric. A simple blue. "This is much nicer." "Would it be fair to choose a monotone pair?" He suggested, hand on his chin thoughtfully. "Like black and white?" "Yes! It would be simple and effective." He remarked in a cheery tone. "Hmm.." she hummed, head tilting to the side. "I suppose it would put more focus on her than the wrappings.." With a sigh she turned.

Your eyes locked with her soft green ones, as you both stared silently at each other. Great. Excellent. Your ex's parents. What. The. Hell. Her husband turned away to pull a black swathe of velvety fabric and a hank of shiny white ribbon from a bag on the floor nearby. "How about this?" He turned back in the direction of you both., "Or is it too dark-? Oh!" He blinked somewhat owlishly. You stared back up at him. Your voice cracked out, "What the hell.." "Hello.." He tacked on a greeting with an awkward smile. His wife audibly cleared her throat. "Well.. uh. I suppose there is some explanation due here.." She pushed her blonde hair away from her cheek, placing down the bag. "As i'm sure you know our precious boy's birthday is coming up. We simply wanted to show him how much we care for him." She reasoned as if this was even bordering on normal. "He's so broken up ever since you left him, so.. We couldn't bear to see him so sad." He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder as her voice choked up. "So we brought upon ourselves to bring him a gift that would make him the happiest.. and.. well.."

They gave no more explanation after that, simply moving right into carefully wrapping you in a soft velvet fabric and securing it with the white ribbon. Once sufficiently wrapped and unable to do anything about it, you were carefully moved to a much softer spot. A bed tucked away in the guest room in the back of the house. They couldn't have you developing any more bruises after all. He gave you a pat on the head before he left. Truly the father's choice of reassurance. Or at least attempted. You were alone. The only company in the room the quiet ticking of a clock. You weren't exactly sure how much time had passed, only that they made sure you ate three meals a day, whether you particularly liked it or not. The only thing you knew was you wanted away from that damn clock! Counting seconds had gotten so old, SO long ago!

You fell asleep one night. Awoken to jostling in the morning. Her humming heard just over the rumble of a car engine. You were almost certain you knew where you were headed. But god! at least you're away from the infuriating ticking. When you finally stopped, their car parked in the garage. You could hear their muffled greetings and birthday wishes through the car windows.

When he finally got a hold of you it was almost far too tight. Desperately having to keep his eyes off of how precious you were. "Wow.." The ecstasy blooming in his strained voice, "You didn't have to." His mother only smiled, "Of course we did! We want to see you happy sweetheart." She leaned over to peck a kiss on his forehead, he wouldn't even think of denying her with how perfectly they chose his lovely gift. "You two have fun, alight!" she finished cheerfully as his father clapped him on the shoulder. Your expression? A blank stare locked onto an empty wall as the two of them took their leave, not wanting to 'disturb the lovebirds'. Ew.

Feeling his arms snake their way around your body, you shuddered. Pressing his face to the top of your hair and taking a deep breath. "I missed you…" He breathed, "So.. So much.." A finger hooked it's way around the white ribbon securing your fabric, "How bout' we get you unwrapped, hm?" You could hear him grinning.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

I genuinely love Mirror Sisko so much. I think he reflects and refracts our Sisko in so many compelling ways, and feels to true to how Sisko actually could have developed if he’d been born under very different circumstances. (Part of it is the script, and part of it is Avery Brooks’ marvelous performance.)

The Sisko we’re presented with in the mirror universe is wilder and angrier and more cynical, boisterous and fun-loving in a palpably threatening way, where you sense that he could spontaneously break out into violence at any time. And he projects a decidedly predatory vibe every time he interacts with our Kira. It feels deeply off, and yet also strangely reminiscent of Sisko Prime’s darker side. Because even though Sisko as presented in the show is a much more decent man, and much more committed to higher ideals and moral rectitude, he also had a wild side when he was younger, and his anger can be quite threatening when he’s pushed or under duress. (This manifests more often in later seasons, but even early on, there’s the scene in Past Prologue where he tells Kira, “Go over my head again, and I’ll have yours on a platter.” He has a real way of smiling like he’s baring his teeth that Mirror Sisko dials up to eleven.)

Mirror Sisko is representative of who Sisko would have been without the Federation, without the utopian society to nurture his most heroic and humanistic traits and without a structure of higher ideals to build his identity around. He has many of the same personality traits, but his jagged edges are more pronounced, and it’s clear his aggressiveness is a protective wall he’s built around himself. His interactions with the Intendant really illustrate how traumatized he truly is - when she comms him in Quark’s bar, he shuts down for a second before snapping out of it and sharing a lascivious chuckle with his crew about his going to see her, and then in her quarters, he has the line about how he “never had any [feelings] to hurt”. He’s cultivated a “fuck you, I got mine” mindset, and takes pleasure in intimidating O’Brien as a way of indulging in what limited power he has, because he knows - as Kira points out - that he’s still a victim.

(There’s something very poignant as well in how How Far Beyond the Stars links Sisko’s Black identity to the value of the Federation - it’s his trip back to a racist past that reminds him of what he’s fighting to protect against the Dominion. Meanwhile, with Mirror Sisko, in a world without the Federation, we have the imagery of a Black man from a enslaved people whose very conditional freedom and privileges are tied up in his ability to sexually service a white woman.)

But his fundamental heroism still comes through, and it’s explicitly through his concern for the wellbeing of his crew. When Kira challenges him as to why he hasn’t fought more for freedom for the Terrans, he says:

You’re looking in the wrong place for a hero, ma’am. I’ve made the best of a bad life for my crew. That’s my contribution.

I love this line so much, because while Sisko Prime is very devoted to the broader ideals of Starfleet and the Federation, and very invested in the symbolism of “the uniform”, he’s also very devoted to the people under his command, and willing to bend the rules or look the other way to protect them. It shows up in all kinds of ways, like him finding a loophole to shield Kira from getting in trouble for disobeying orders in Progress, or him fighting for Worf in Rules of Engagement despite disagreeing with his judgment call. So it seems completely fitting that for Mirror Sisko, who never had that ideological structure to nurture him and shape his worldview, his heroism - his “contribution” to the good of the Terrans - is entirely centered on protecting his crew, and his world has basically shrunk to his ship and its command structure. And there’s something so perfect about the fact that it’s Kira who makes him see that he can be more.

Of all the Mirror Universe characters, he feels to me like the most thorough use of the conceit to shed light on the character we already know.