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thegreatstoryteller · 2 days ago

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Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete.

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone.

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form.

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed.

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?” Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone.

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

#female to male #body swap #gender change #the great shift #great shift

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agathasfamiliar · 7 hours ago

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hi!! I just found your blog, can I request g!p detective!agatha railing reader in a missionary position and has a bulge kink (poking the bear🤭🏃‍♀️)

thank you so much for this request it was very fun to write, i hope you enjoy it!

fuck the police:

detective agnes o'connor x fem!reader

You fucked up and finally got caught for your long-running streak of graffiti artistry. What's worse than being arrested, however? Being interrogated by the one detective in town who causes you to question your all out hatred for the profession.

word count: 6.2k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, agnes is trans/intersex/has a penis, penis in vagina sex, power bottom!reader, service top!agnes (but agnes still needs a little control of course), handcuffs, breeding kink, bulge kink, agnes loves reader's tits, smut

author's note: trans butch agnes, my beloved. also i probably could've done more research into a more realistic set up/i know this isn't how someone being arrested/interrogated would work but it's porn so...hopefully you can look past that

You never thought you’d find yourself here, arrested and waiting to be questioned for your crimes. Perhaps you should’ve seen it coming, your graffiti art has steadily risen in popularity over the last few months, ever since one particularly evocative piece got featured on the local news and allegedly inspired a number of protests throughout the city of Westview.

Not that you had anything to do with that.

The police department has issued several requests for information on you, even offering a pretty handsome reward for the proven identity of “Hex”, the name you tag every piece with. A rumor has even reached your ears about a copycat artist getting arrested over in Eastview. Serves them right for using your signature, but it at least has kept the feds off your trail for a bit.

Admittedly, you’d gotten cocky thinking you could get away with tagging the squad car stationed at the busiest intersection in town. In your defense, it had looked empty. How were you supposed to know the deputy on duty was napping in the back seat? You’d made it halfway through the looping pink pig face you were sprawling across the windshield before he woke up and chased you down four blocks.

If you were wearing your usual running shoes instead of having slipped on an old pair of slides in your rush out of the house, you probably would’ve outrun the middle-aged cop chasing you, another mistake you won’t make again.

Now, you sit shivering in nothing but a sheer white tank top and sweatpants so spattered in all the vibrant colors of your, now confiscated, cans of spray paint, that you can’t even remember what color the pants originally were. You weren’t an idiot, you had a black hoodie on when you went out to do your work, but the rookie cop that booked you at the station also insisted on taking your sweatshirt for “evidence”.

You’re pretty sure he just wanted to see you suffer in the refrigerator-like temperature they keep the precinct at, clearly only recently having graduated the academy and already taking a shine to abusing his power. Pigs, indeed.

The interrogation room they brought you to well over 30 minutes ago sits at the very back of the building, a windowless box that somehow looks and smells both musty and sterile. A large one-way mirror covers the wall opposite the door, the only noise in the confined space being the tick-tick-tick of the clock above it that reads just past midnight.

You rattle the short chain connecting your handcuffed wrists to a bar on the heavy metal table in front of you, just to disrupt the suffocating silence. Have you seriously been forgotten here?

Just as you have that thought, as if summoning another person into existence with it, the door, opposite the corner where you sit, opens briskly.

Twin sighs of irritation drop from both your mouth and the supposed detective’s as she enters. You can’t make out too many details of her appearance at first because of the dim lighting that mostly just illuminates the table you sit at, as well as the fact that she has her head down looking over what you assume is your intake forms.

“I want a lawyer.” Are the first words out of your mouth once the woman has turned to shut the door behind her.

“Ha!” She laughs dryly and it has you simmering with rage already, but something about it also sounds familiar.

“Well, sweetie,” The still concealed detective continues as she finally steps into the light, “not likely to find a public defender that’s available at this hour, but if you insist on staying overnight…” She trails off amusedly, finally stepping into the light and causing your prepared reply to die in your throat as you connect the recognition of the voice with the blue eyes that meet yours.

“Detective O’Connor.” You greet, trying to keep your tone even.

Fuck.

Of fucking course, of all the detectives in the goddamn city, this is who had to come question you. The same detective you’ve served coffee to every morning for the better part of three years at your shitty cafe day job. The same detective who barely acknowledges your existence, but when her fingers brush yours as you pass her usual over the counter, you think about it for the rest of the day. The detective you berate yourself for fantasizing about, because she’s everything you despise and your friends would never let you hear the end of it if they found out, especially with how often you’re spouting your “radical” political beliefs (not that you see them that way.)

Detective Agnes fucking O’Connor…

This is not how you imagined it would look if you ever got her in a room alone.

“Huh? Do I know you?” She questions, almost offended, and now you’re the one to let out a dry laugh.

“Here, let me help jog your memory.” You say, picking up the small, paper cup of water that had been left on the table for you in one bound hand, holding it aloft and reciting her order.

“One large hot coffee with two sugars and half a pump of vanilla.”

She looks unaffected at your display, only raising both eyebrows once in sudden recognition before sauntering over to the chair on the other side of the table and sitting down casually.

“Impressive, that how you’ve avoided custody so long? Charming Westview’s finest by memorizing their coffee orders?” Her questions are laced with condescension.

“Nope, just yours. Why? Is it working?” You smirk despite your better judgment. You hadn’t planned to try the flirting route to get out your charges, but hey, the best schemes have an element of truth to them. Plus, if this is the only chase you’ll have to speak to the detective alone, you might as well make the most of it.

She doesn’t answer, instead leaning back in the rickety metal chair that lets out a squeal at the motion. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail that’s tied low at the base of her skull. Blue flannel sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and it’s all you can do not to think about tracing your tongue over the veins that snake over her strong forearms.

The jeans she’s wearing strain with the way she sits, legs spread apart, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from letting out a gasp when you notice how it puts the delicious outline of what’s beneath the denim on display. Fuck, you do not need to be thinking about straddling the woman where she sits and grinding down against her bulge right now, but you are anyway.

Mercifully, she leans forward again in the seat to ask another question and the view is gone. You need to focus if you’re going to get out of this without incriminating yourself.

“What were you doing tonight?” She asks flatly, getting down to business. You know better than to provide anything resembling an answer, true or false.

“This whole thing seems pretty excessive, all things considered. I mean, an interrogation? Really, Agnes?” Her first name slips out before you can catch it, but you don’t really care.

“Just answer the question. And it’s Detective.” The flare of anger in her eyes only spurs you on.

“Sorry, Detective Agnes,” you correct yourself, purposefully using her name this time, just to see that flash of heat again.

“If you were so curious about where I was tonight you could’ve just asked me out.” Now that you’ve opened the floodgates, the suggestive remarks just keep coming out.

For Agnes’ part, she remains still and draws in an angry breath. Her blue eyes blaze with irritation at your lack of cooperation more than the intrigue you were hoping for, but that just means you’ll have to turn up the dial on this improvised plan you’ve laid out for yourself. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“Listen, if you’re going to keep wasting my time I’ll just lock you up now and wait ‘til morning.” She threatens with a glowering expression, voice raising every few words in an attempt to intimidate. It’s kind of cute, actually.

You think she might hear just how her phrasing comes out and anticipate your next response, because she almost looks remorseful. The slightest pink tone that rises to her cheeks and the way she pokes her tongue out to wet her bottom lip when her eyes flick down to your barely covered chest don’t escape your careful observations either.

“Ooo,” you start, falsely scandalized, “now you want me to spend the night?” A slight giggle escaping you at your own words and the way you lift your handcuffed wrists in front of you playfully.

With the action, you’re sure to press your biceps against either side of your body to even more obviously display your tits, and she can’t help but look down with the movement, eyes raking over your nipples that stand at attention beneath the thin fabric in the cold space.

Heat is practically rolling off her in waves and you can’t tell for sure if it’s arousal or fury that is threatening to boil over, or what will happen when it does, but you have always been the type to take risks. Why stop now?

“Can’t you just get me off with a warning? I mean- let me off…” You ask before she can recover from your last question, attempting a simper at the intentional slip up in your speech.

It seems that this is what finally pushes her over the edge as she slams her hands loudly against the metal table and stands up, causing it to vibrate with the impact. Her chair goes clattering to the ground behind her, but she doesn’t seem to care. The satisfied expression you wear drops for a second at the forceful display, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Alright, that’s enough!” She shouts, leaning over so you can practically feel her breath on your face before she rounds the table quickly.

“Do you really wanna keep poking the bear?!” She asks, furious, now standing at your right side and heavily folding at the waist to shout into your ear.

You have to lean away slightly at the volume that threatens to burst your eardrum and it provides just enough space to look the detective up and down where she stands.

That’s when you see it.

Unmistakable and pressing against the zipper of her jeans so forcefully that it’s a wonder they haven’t burst; Detective O’Connor is hard.

You can’t drag your eyes away from the tented fabric, so obvious that it nearly casts a shadow onto the denim in the odd light of the room. As you are still seated, you’re practically at the perfect level to just lean over and mouth the length through her pants. It’s all you can do not to let your head dip where it wants to most, as if you’re a magnet being drawn by its opposite charge.

“I- uh.” You stutter, unsure of your words for the first time since she walked in. The amount of saliva that has accumulated in your mouth at the sight in front of you forces you to swallow before you speak again.

“I think I’d rather have the bear poke me.” You breathe, sounding wrecked just at the thought.

When you finally drag your gaze back up to hers, her face is burning red, but this time you can tell it is much more out of embarrassment than anger. She looks self conscious in a way you’ve never seen and it’s so, so pretty.

“It’s okay I c-” You start, reaching out uselessly in your confines, but you’re cut off from your attempt at a rare comforting word when Agnes seizes your right shoulder and lifts you to your feet. She then immediately folds you over and presses you against the table on your stomach, handcuffed hands pinned beneath your chest. You let out a grunt at the forceful action as well as the freezing cold metal that almost stings your skin that has warmed at your flirting.

The position is much like the one you were put in a few hours ago upon your arrest, only now it causes you to ache with desire instead of seeth with fury.

“You think this is funny?!” She questions, but it sounds strained and unsure. Your own hesitance at her intentions keeps you from muttering out that it’s actually not funny, it’s really fucking hot.

It dawns on you then that she probably turned you over like this so you aren’t able to see the blush that’s probably still spreading over her skin, or the bulge in her pants that’s no doubt only getting worse, especially with how you purposefully arch your back in her grasp.

She has you pinned beneath her hands, one still on your shoulder and the other holding your waist, the perfect placement for her to pull you back against her. Instead, a shaky breath sounds from behind you. It seems like she’s deciding what to do next and you can almost feel the heat radiating from between her hips that begs her to choose the option you’re hoping for too.

You start pressing back yourself, impatient and using any amount of leverage possible to reach your destination. To help her decide.

“Come on, detective. Let me help you out.” You nearly whisper in the most convincing and sweet voice you can muster. Her hands loosen ever so slightly at the soft sound and you use the opportunity to slide the last inch backwards, your ass just barely brushing her front, aware also that if she had wanted to stop you she would’ve easily been able to.

You feel the hardness and heat of her cock against you through both your clothing and nearly release a whimper at the sensation, at the idea of her finally being inside you like you’ve fantasized about so many times.

Just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again. Her hands release you entirely and she steps away without a word, leaving you feeling even colder than the steel table you’re slumped against. You drop your head to the metal in defeat. That’s it, you think. Your efforts haven't worked and you’re not only going to spend the night in a cell, but you’re going to do so while very uncomfortably wet and wound up. Plus, she’s probably going to try to add attempted bribery or harassment to your charge sheet. God, this was a dumb idea. Why couldn’t you have just gotten some old guy detective whose questions you would have dodged coldly and without a second thought?

All these thoughts flash through your head in the few seconds it takes Agnes to step away from the table and turn you by the hips to face her, the chain keeping you there being just long enough to allow such movement.

You look down immediately, as if out of instinct, to find the large bulge still present, possibly even more so somehow. A bolt of desire strikes through your core at the small dark spot you notice has formed on the crotch of the already dark jeans. The evidence of your effect threatens to turn your legs to jelly. Finally, your eyes raise to meet Agnes’ with a curiosity, who stands less than a foot from you, hands still holding your hips loosely. The thrill of not knowing what she’ll do next makes your already racing heart beat even faster.

You find that she looks as weak as you feel, drinking you in like you’re an ice cold glass of water she’s found in the middle of the sahara. It’s clear that she’s used up every last thread of restraint she has to resist your offer, and it still has proven to be insufficient. Her blue irises have nearly been swallowed by blown black pupils that bore into you as she speaks her resignation to her rapturous fate.

“If I’m gonna fuck you,” she breathes the words out like she’s just run a marathon, “it’s gonna be while looking at those pretty tits.”

You lean back into the table in favor of collapsing straight to the floor at those words. How is this actually happening?

Seeing you stumble into the table, her right hand shifts down to your thigh and lifts, helping you to sit on the ledge as she steps closer to let your knees bracket her body. She looks so much more confident in this moment, and not in the same stone-faced way she had while you prodded at her before. It brings a soft smile to your lips and she looks away, somewhat coyly, at your noticing. It’s hard to decide if you prefer her shy or assertive.

Blunt nails graze gently over your covered thighs, to your hips, then your waist, before finally settling over your scarcely contained breasts. Your own sharp intake of breath meets your ears as you lean into the warm touch and she squeezes them with a smirk playing on her lips.

“I might not remember your face…” she rasps, leaning to speak directly into your right ear, “but I definitely remember these.” Both thumbs move to brush over your already pebbled nipples, causing them to harden further. You roll your eyes, both at the comment and at the thread of pleasure that tugs right from where she touches you all the way down to your pulsing clit.

For all the humor in it, you can’t help but notice just how sincere her comment sounds and flashes run through your mind of every low cut top you’ve ever worn to work, wondering which one’s are her favorite.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You exhale with a chuckle against her cheek, momentarily forgetting your binds and trying to reach around her shoulders to pull her closer. The chain rattles loudly and you jerk with the reminder of your limited movement.

Agnes shakes her head and laughs at your needy but firm command as well as your inability to move.

“Here, let me.” She continues laughing gently as she reaches for the key ring you somehow hadn’t yet noticed swinging from her hip.

“No.” You blurt before you can think better of it.

“Leave them.”

It’s a daring statement and you run your tongue across your teeth mischievously while the implication works its way through the woman’s mind. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth with how hard she bites into it, looking at you in disbelief and utter need.

“Fuck,” is all she says, dropping the keys back to her side and moving instead to undo her belt with a clumsy haste.

You would be scrambling to remove your own pants as well, not wanting to waste anymore time, but your own request has left you unable to do so. Instead, you’re left in awe as the black leather belt is unlatched and left hanging loosely open while Agnes works at her zipper. Even less is left to the imagination when denim is pulled aside to reveal cotton boxer briefs protruding with the tension of her arousal.

Her cock is pressing tautly against the soft, grey material and the way the underwear clings to her body causes you to gape at the implication of how much the secure garment is still concealing.

The dark spot you’d noticed on her jeans is even darker and more centralized to its origin on the grey cloth. Saliva fills your mouth again at the sight, the only thing better than seeing her from beneath that last layer of clothing will be when it is finally removed.

As if reading your mind and wanting you to suffer a moment long, she pauses her motions of undressing any further. Before you can argue or make a snide remark, her hands are on your own waistband, tugging the paint-covered article down as much as she can while you’re still seated. You can’t very well lift yourself with your hands at the moment, so you slip off the table quickly to help get them the rest of the way down, hopping back up just as swiftly and letting her pull them off your legs, shoes falling to the floor one by one in the process.

The cold table under your mostly bare ass draws the breath from you momentarily, only a black pair of boyshorts now protecting you from the metal.

“Do you ever wash these?” Agnes asks down at the rainbow vomit littering your clothing before dropping the pants to the floor, a real dry humor in her voice replacing the stern, mocking one from when she first entered the room.

“What’s the point?” You ask, because seriously, why would you wash them if you’re just going to get paint all over them again?

“Do you answer every question with a question?” She fires back, moving back between your knees from where she’d stepped back to help undress you. Her fingers play again at her own waistband, dipping into them slightly before meeting your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“Do you always stall like this when a girl wants you to fill her pussy?” You ask with an exaggerated expression of curiosity, as if you are genuinely awaiting the answer and not just communicating your impatience.

Her cheeks pink again at the response, any clever comebacks quickly forgotten. You remove your gaze from her face and shift it back to her arousal to allow her to blush in private.

In your peripheral vision, you see her eyes flick up to watch your face as she dips her left hand into her underwear and grasps herself so gently, right hand pushing the material down to reveal what you’ve been waiting for.

You’re first met with a mess of dark curls that trail all the way up to her belly button, which you only catch a quick glimpse of with the way her shirt momentarily gets caught by her arm. You stifle a moan at the reveal of her thick cock; rock hard, reddened and still beading pre-cum, as you saw evidenced on the front of her jeans and underwear.

Now you slightly regret having her leave the cuffs on, as you long to reach out and take the length in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. Heat takes your face at the idea of getting on your knees before the detective and gagging on her length, and now you’re the one blushing and biting your lip.

Painfully tearing your eyes from the beautiful sight to catch Agnes’ expression, you find her still looking for your reaction. She finds exactly what she’s looking for in the way your eyes soften and you use one finger, your hands still bound at the wrists and settled in front of your chest, to beckon her forward.

Loose strands of brown hair that have escaped her messily tied back tendrils brush the side of your face as she leans in close to catch your message.

“I need your cock inside me, detective.” You husk, more than speak, into her ear, the lust dripping from the title she insisted on minutes ago causing a physical and auditory shudder through the woman. Looking back down, you see Agnes stroke herself once, as if your words have rendered her unable to resist.

Maybe she notices that you’re about to make a comment about it, because in one swift motion Agnes’ right hand flies up to your left shoulder, shifting you fully to your back on the table. You let out a gasp at the sudden movement, metal tabletop clattering at the impact and drowning out the sound. Just as quickly as you’ve adjusted to your new position, you’re being pulled by the thighs to the very edge of the table and towards exactly what you want, Agnes then guiding you to wrap your spread legs around her hips for support.

“You need this, huh?” She asks, hungrily looking over your body from her new perspective. You’re about to answer her question with your own when she slowly and teasingly drags the head of her cock from your clit to your entrance, over your underwear. Her timing is getting a little too convenient.

You groan at the feeling of your own wetness being pressed against you by her hardness. It makes you ache knowing it’s so close to being consumed by your heat, only a thin shield of fabric left between you. If you had full range of motion of your hands, you would have already ripped the rest of your clothing off, but the quick and dirty way you’re both still mostly clothed almost turns you on more.

Desperate to maintain the dizzying contact, your hips grind upward as your legs become a vice, pulling her ever closer. The clear enthusiasm only spurs her on, gliding back up and down again, circling your clit three times with her cock on the last pass until you're squirming beneath her and hopelessly trying to contain your whimpering. You would rather wait a lifetime for your orgasm than beg a cop.

You’re so sopping wet, though, that when you look down between your bodies you can see the way her cock shines with your arousal despite not having yet made full contact. It’s almost too much to bear, your clit throbbing in time with your pounding pulse. Something has to give or you’re soon going to be a blabbering mess.

“Just fuck me, Agnes!” You bark out, hips rising insistently and your voice verging on a whine.

The room goes still for a moment, even the clock ticking away on the wall seems to pause for dramatic effect as she quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head dangerously at your outburst. That same feeling from before washes over you, when you thought you might’ve really fucked up, but it only lasts for half a second before a hand is shoving your ruined underwear to one side and you feel the tip of her resting at your entrance.

Your eyes meet her blue ones, which are actually still mostly black, especially in this light. They burn into you like before and you don’t know whether her silence is a good or bad thing.

You draw in your own shaky breath, waiting for her next move, and on the exhale she sheathes herself to the hilt inside of you.

Even she can’t contain her half of the guttural growl that comes from both of you at the perfect feeling. You don’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed about just how fucking soaked you are that she was able to slide all the way in with one thrust, because the way her cock is filling you up so completely has rendered every other thought irrelevant.

A moment passes where you both breathe, adjusting to the stretch and squeeze respectively. You feel her throb once within you and think, at this point, with enough determination, you could come just from that small amount of friction.

You don’t need that determination, though. As if mocking that passing thought, Agnes skips any unnecessary build up and starts at a positively bruising pace. Just one moment ago she was panting over you, looking like she might not even make it two thrusts in before unraveling, and now she’s slamming into you with a literally breathtaking force.

No intelligible noises are able to come out of your throat at first, only broken, reedy gasps. Your eyes roll back in your head as the glorious, slapping sounds of your joining sexes fill your ears. Her length jabs over and over again at the perfect spot inside you, just where you need her.

Doing your best to focus your vision, you look up to see the red face of a woman clearly holding on to her composure for dear life. Her finger nails are short, but still able to bite into your hips ever so slightly as she practically slides you up and down along the table while also moving against you herself, which deepens her thrusts even more.

This also seemingly provides quite the show for Agnes, who you observe is splitting her time between watching your face contorting with pleasure, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy, and most of all, the way your tits are bouncing considerably with her every movement.

“You like these? You should fuck them.” You make out between gasping breaths, nodding down at your own chest.

Agnes takes a moment to respond, her laser focus causing her to not even register your words at first. When she does however, and notices your gesturing, her thrusting falters only for a moment, as if the idea alone has made her nearly swoon with desire. Crystal irises scan you over again and you can tell she’s thinking about it by the way her eyebrows knit together in a desperate sort of way.

“Maybe next time.” She decides, smirking down at you and ramming herself into you particularly hard once before returning to her rhythm, while her left hand comes up to grip your right breast greedily.

“Mmn- next time?” You ask around a moan, trying not to sound too hopeful, but it’s also such an unexpected sentiment from the detective you can’t help but question her further.

“I’d bet good money this won’t be your last arrest,” is all she says to satisfy your curiosity. While it’s also a subtle dig at your evading skills, your imagination still runs wild with the unspoken promise of how a future slip-up might turn out for you. It almost makes you want to get caught again.

“Right, because you’d love to f-fuck, fuck! Oh my god!” Your response turns into a moaning curse when her hand shoots down from playing with your tits so her thumb can land firmly on your clit and press down with flawless pressure, never letting up consistently filling you in the process.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..” The mantra spills from your lips while your orgasm mounts within you and you know you’ll be toppling over the edge any minute now.

If your hands were free you would be locking your fingers behind her neck and pulling her even closer to you to ensure you get what you want, but the burn of the metal chafing your wrists is a delicious alternative. The pain only sharpens the pleasure you’re feeling everywhere else and you throb at the idea of waking up tomorrow and seeing angry red and purple bracelets of evidence.

At your emphatic request, she doesn’t stop. You’ve never been so full before and when Agnes’ cock throbs within you after every couple of pumps, stars explode behind your eyes. There’d better be a next time because you’re pretty sure nothing and nobody has or will ever make you feel like this.

“I’m so, so close. Fuck!” You shout, unsure what possesses you to tell her, but her response only drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, fucking come for me. Come on my cock, come on my c-cock…” She huffs, the exertion that you were already impressed with her maintaining finally shows in her voice, but she still never lets up. It almost sounds like she’s begging, a “please” barely contained behind her lips, and that’s what makes you really want to come for her.

Chasing your orgasm, you redouble your efforts of rocking your hips up and it makes her length press even more fully against your front wall until you’re practically screaming with pleasure. The new angle caused by your rocking coupled with the way your walls are tightening around her in anticipation of your release is also clearly doing something for Agnes.

Her breaths are coming in short puffs and she is completely unable to stifle the loud whimper that bursts out of her when you clench around her even harder, your orgasm just seconds away.

That’s what finally does it, that mewl that you were able to pull from the tough detective. It sends you flying, every muscle tenses and wave after wave of pleasure causes you to buck against the table and Agnes, but she holds you firmly in place, fucking you through it and moaning herself the whole time as she marvels at your release. The aftershocks go on for what feels like forever while you float in your euphoria, never wanting it to end.

After your release, Agnes’ thrusts quickly become short and frantic, almost rutting into you with a fervor. The throbs you’ve felt are coming on every pump and you’re content to lie back in your blissed out state and let her take whatever she wants, until she starts to pull out of you, one trembling hand releasing your hip and clearly intent on finishing herself off.

You’re suddenly more lucid than ever, quickly locking your ankles behind her from where they’d fallen limp, and shoving her back into you until she bottoms out. A surprised breath leaves her at the action, a sheen of sweat breaking across her forehead as she stutters out her reasoning.

“I-I’m gonna-” She can’t even get the words out and it’s the second time in so many minutes that you feel your heart squeeze at just how adorable this usually grave woman is.

“I know, I know. Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is thick with desire and you’re still lingering bliss, the pet name slipping out like water, but you need her to know just how badly you want it.

Her eyes widen slightly as a deeper blush somehow takes over her already red face, unsure but so very full of want. You feel her twitch within you despite herself and her hips roll just at the words.

You don’t break eye contact, making clear how serious you are to quell her doubt.

Tentatively, after a beat, she starts up a slower pace, pulling almost out of you before thrusting all the way back in, like she’s giving herself time to think again.

“You can do it baby, I know you want to. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” You gasp out the words while she fucks back into your pussy and you think you could come again just from the way she looks at you when you say them.

You repeat your cooing encouragements and it doesn’t even take three more of those slow thrusts before she falters and stays sheathed inside you, rutting weakly.

“Come on, baby.” You repeat, and you know she’s done.

More of those beautiful whimpers fall from her lips as you feel one stronger throb and then warmth explodes into your walls. You can’t help but moan yourself at the feeling of being filled by her. Spurt after spurt of her cum coats your insides while she holds you tighter and tighter, as if you’ll float away if she lets go. Her desperate moans die down eventually and she slumps against you, still inside, and draws in one big breath before releasing it slowly. Her eyes are screwed shut and her head is now resting against your restrained hands on your chest.

It’s probably good they're restrained, you think, because if they weren’t you’d be having a very hard time resisting running your fingers through her long hair, tenderly scratching your nails against the nape of her neck.

Another beat passes where the two of you breath against one another and come down from your respective highs. The delicious mix of your and Agnes’ cum has started to drip out of you onto the table below and it’s a hot enough thought that your sensitive clit gives a weak twitch and you clench around Agnes unintentionally, causing her to crane her neck to look up at you.

Her eyes are clear again and softer than you’ve ever seen them; you let your coursing endorphins carry you away on a cloud of imagining leaning the six inches it would take to capture her lips in yours, but you don’t dare actually do it.

She starts to shift, maybe shaking herself from some similar thought, you can’t tell. Her soft sex pulls out of you slowly as she pushes up on her hands and waits for you to release her from the grip your legs still have her in. You unsteadily unravel yourself from her, shuddering slightly at the loss and trying not to think about how empty you feel without her.

Now free, she tucks herself back into her briefs and makes quick work of finally undoing your cuffs. Her hands rub at the raw skin absently, using her hold there to pull you into a seated position. She then reaches down for the balled-up mess you call a pair of pants and slides them back onto your trembling legs easily. After you’re relatively put back together, cum still leaking out and coating your already ruined underwear, she looks you over once more with hunger along with something else you can’t place.

She looks thoughtful, like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, instead letting a sly smile pull at her mouth and a different comment sneak through with a soft laugh.

“Consider that your warning.”

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha all along fanfic #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader smut #x reader smut #female reader #fem reader #x reader #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness smut #smut #agatha all along smut #familiar requests #agatha x you #agatha smut

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lsunstreakerl · 9 hours ago

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slinking out of my homework induced coma. darkbull! 1.7k words, carlos pov. (I'll be posting the "discipline" ficlet later today hopefully, but you guys get some insight into it with this one). once again: this is the darkbull universe. it's not as bad as the kidnapping ficlet but it's not great either.

Carlos breaths out a slow breath, fingertips grazing the cool metal in front of him. Wheatley watches impassively from a few feet away, protective headphones around his neck.

"Your father ever teach you to handle those?"

Carlos remembers being small, holding BB pellets in his hands, but-

That had been for fun. Not anything serious, just boys being boys, trying to see who had the best aim, who could hit the furthest can.

Nothing like this.

He wraps his fingers around the handle and lifts, feeling the weight in his palms. It feels heavy, but not as much as it should.

Something with the power to so easily take a life shouldn't be so easy to lift.

"He didn't teach me with one of these, no."

Wheatley nods, stepping closer and rearranging Carlos's fingers around the handle.

"It's going to have some kickback. I don't want you worrying about bullseyes yet. I want you making sure your aim is steady."

Carlos brings it up in front of him as Wheatley raises his headphones up, placing Carlos's over his ears as well.

He widens his stance a bit, steadies himself as much as possible. Wheatley had been telling him about this part- shoot on exhale.

He focuses on the target and lets his thumb flick over the safety.

This is not what he thought he'd be doing when he joined Formula 1- not even close. None of it is. He didn't think he'd be content in a "junior" team, he didn't think he'd end up entangled in part of a historical criminal empire, he didn't think he would be in a three way relationship where only two of them know what's actually happening.

At least- he thinks it's three way. If it's not now, it will be soon. Daniel has been circling him and Max, like the moon orbiting the Earth. He gets closer each pass, eating meals with them or doing workouts together, and Carlos knows Max is head over heels, so it's really only a matter of time.

Max wants Daniel, just like he'd wanted Carlos, and he gets what he wants.

Always.

Max getting what he wants is why Carlos is here in the factory basement, learning how to kill someone.

Max has no idea about the way the factory revolves around him. He's their guiding star, their perfect pet, their number one driver.

Carlos sometimes finds himself wondering if Max even realized what was happening when he was seventeen. Probably not- Carlos remembers Max at seventeen, angry and defensive. Nothing like the Max of now, fierce on track but happy to roll over for the team, let them do whatever they want to him.

If Carlos hadn't been present in the factory to watch the slow progression, he almost wouldn't believe it. He has to respect Redbull for their patience, but-

He's afraid of how long they're willing to play the long game. They'd been so careful with Max. They'd gained his trust, and they'd gone so slowly it's no surprise Max didn't notice.

Holding onto him just a bit longer in a hug than someone normally would, a hand slipping lower on his back or higher on his thigh, palms around his neck- the slow removal of personal space, of boundaries- the way there are always eyes on him. Max is so used to being observed he doesn't even register it anymore.

Carlos had pressed him against a counter the other day, because Max had been sweet and desperate and wanting, and he'd had a moment where he worried that someone could walk in.

And then Max had whined into his mouth and begged for his fingers, and Carlos realized he didn't care. Max's flat is bugged, there are trackers buried deep into muscle and flesh, the team has never had any grievances about drugging him- if someone walks in on them, they'll probably just be glad to see Max has his needs met.

Just like he'd feared, someone had walked in- gotten their drink from the fridge as normal, winked at Carlos, and then left.

The only change afterwards was that Carlos felt like the team approved of him more.

So. He's been proving himself right lately.

Carlos looks at the target in front of him. Max is so- Max is naive, about the whole thing. The team works very hard to keep it that way, and that responsibility now falls on Carlos as well.

He tries to imagine someone breaking in, trying to hurt Max, trying to kill Max-

Redbull would go on a warpath.

Carlos thinks of Max laid out underneath him in bed, curled up with him on the couch, running next to him on the track. Fierce, syrupy sweet Max.

He thinks of someone else getting that Max, someone who's not Redbull, someone who hasn't put in the work.

There's a sharp flicker of possessiveness through him.

Carlos fires.

------

Two weeks later:

Carlos has his back leaned against the headboard, Max asleep between his legs, head resting on his stomach.

Daniel steps back out of the bathroom, passing Carlos a washcloth.

"He out?"

Carlos nods, fingers absentmindedly running through Max's hair. It's been getting softer since Carlos convinced him to start using conditioner. It's getting longer as well- enough that Carlos can tug on it gently, enough that the ends of it curl at the nape of his neck.

"Yes."

Daniel pulls on a pair of sweatpants and settles next to Carlos, careful not to shift the bed too much. They're both talking quietly.

"Well, we know he likes that."

Carlos huffs a small laugh.

"We should keep a list."

He means it as a joke, but the way Daniel tilts his head, eyes assessing- it might not be a half bad idea.

Daniel reaches over to the bedside table, tearing out a piece of paper from one of their smaller notebooks as he snags a pen.

His eyes shift over to Carlos, and he sounds contemplative when he speaks.

"Wheatley's added evening meets to my schedule for the next two weeks- said I should ask you about it."

Well, that answers a question Carlos had been wondering about, if Daniel had been trained already or not.

"He's going to teach you to shoot. Also some knife work."

Daniel snorts, eyes crinkling over at him.

"Nah mate, seriously, what's it about?"

Carlos lowers his head a bit, eyes flicking back down to where Max is asleep between them.

"I am serious. We are around Max a lot- we should know how to protect him just as well as the rest of the garage."

Daniel's eyes are wide when Carlos looks back up at him.

"Oh."

He carefully folds the paper up before sliding it back in the drawer.

"When did they start teaching you?"

Carlos hums, lightly scratching his nails across Max's scalp. Even in his sleep he makes a soft noise, burrowing slightly closer to Carlos.

"Right after we got together. The team is very observant about these things."

Daniel nods.

"And he seriously doesn't know anything?"

Carlos shakes his head, but it's somewhat fond. How Max has managed to remain completely oblivious is a feat in itself, and Carlos has his suspicions that Max purposely ignores things that don't make sense. Ignorance is bliss, or something like that.

"No idea. I think maybe he gets suspicious when the team is mad at him, but it is hard to keep track during that time. He gets very lost."

"Mad at him- like a couple weeks ago with the Williams incident? The only thing I noticed was that he was a lot quieter and had a hard time staying focused. If anything, the team seemed nicer to him."

Daniel sounds confused, which is fair.

"Daniel, that is the punishment."

Carlos needs to think of a way to phrase this that doesn't send Daniel running for the hills, cultlike crime empire team bosses be damned.

Carlos had thought it was bad too, when he'd first learned, but he's since then seen the positive effects. Max really does do better this way, with the positive reinforcement, but sometimes they have to... wipe the slate first.

"The Williams thing, he was reckless, yes? Was not thinking of his own safety on that overtake, and it crashed them both out. He was not thinking of his own safety because the pundits that week were talking shit about him."

Daniel still looks confused.

"They were talking shit about the whole garage, yeah. That weekend sucked."

"So the most recent thing in his brain is the media, for that race. Makes him race bad. The solution is to,"

Carlos flounders for a second. Christian had explained this much better.

"The team 'wipes the slate', if that makes sense. When he is lost or unfocused, it is because they are trying to remind him of the actual priorities. You will hear them remind him often about how we want him to drive. The repetitiveness-"

Carlos spins his index finger a few times to mimic the motion.

"-it sticks with him. He doesn't remember specific things from that time if they only happen once, but if everyone is telling him frequently to look out for his own safety in the car... much easier for him to remember, yes?"

Carlos brings his hand back down. It really does make sense, if you skip past the questionable ethics.

"And he does not like to be confused like that, so he tries to do what the team asks and avoid it."

Daniel's brows are furrowed, and he looks concerned- but also deep in thought.

"How the fuck are they doing that?"

Carlos shrugs.

"No idea."

He lets the topic drop, because he does know. Had even helped with it, after the Williams incident, because it helps Max, but Daniel-

Daniel isn't ready for that yet. Might not agree to the group effort of slipping things in Max's food and drinks, keeping him unsteady and disoriented. Carlos doesn't like doing it, none of the team does, but it's a necessary thing.

Besides-

He looks back down at Max. He's so trusting of all of them. Eager to please, thrives on praise- none of them could bear actually being angry with him. It still hurts the heart of the team when he's confused like that, and it's upsetting to see the way he gets disoriented and lost, but he comes out of it better. It's the right thing to do for him, and it works.

Daniel will get looped in when he's ready.

#darkbull verse #ficlet #don't worry carlos daniel gets rid of his morals soon #and in the darkbull vs charles competition they're BOTH terrible

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changingplumbob · 2 days ago

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Introductions: Kristina - Part 1

Ciao, welcome to Dating Deanna! I'm Devin Villareal and I will be your host. My younger sister Deanna is hoping the paradise that is Tartosa will set the stage for her to find true love. Without further ado, let's meet today's contestant.

Kristina Voss

Kristina is someone who feels just as at home in the treetops as she does on the ground. Self described lover of the outdoors, she thrives surrounded by nature or working in the family plant nursery.

Sure she may be a little erratic, but hey! Nature isn't constant so why should her emotions be? She can go from crying over a sunrise to laughing at a racoon in minutes, her trait helping her experience life to the full.

Described by all who know her as larger than life, Kristina's cheerful demeanor cultivates an infectious energy. Here's hoping her genuine love of people and connection will flourish.

Devin: Buongiorno Kristina. Welcome to the show

Kristina: Thank you! I'm so happy to be here

Devin: Come sit. Did you apply for the show or did someone do it for you?

Kristina: Applied myself!

Devin: Does anyone know you'll be on the show?

Kristina: I told Mama first, and by afternoon, half the nursery and the farmers' market knew. So, yeah, the secret's out… and it's very out

Devin: *laughs* Some secrets just spread like wildfire. Now I have to ask, how are you feeling about meeting Deanna?

Kristina: Excited! Meeting someone new always feels like the start of an adventure. I'm ready to see where this goes, hopefully somewhere amazing

Devin: I love your enthusiasm, I think you're going to love meeting the other contestants as well. For now though let's get you to my sister. Through the doors when you're ready. Break a leg

Kristina: Yes! Let's go

#sims 4 #the sims #simblr #my sims #ts4 #active simblr #DatingDeanna #DatingDeannaRound0

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yandere-fics · 23 hours ago

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♡ Rayna's Yandere Alphabet ♡

♡ Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? ♡

♡ Rayna is extremely affectionate with her sister and there's never a moment you are in the same room with her that her hands aren't on you. With the bond you technically don't need to be around each other constantly but since you died in the past timeline she feels like if she's away from you for too long you might be hurt. In the mornings she tries to hold you in bed and stop you from getting up because not having you in her arms for an hour is agony. Even in the past timeline when she had to hide how she was feeling about you, she craved your touch nearly every second and it was eating at her that she couldn't just hold your hand. Since she went through that severe repression your need for touch has only grown worse. How intense it is depends on how long she's been deprived, if you weren't with her for most of the previous day there's no way she'd let you leave her side the next day. She also craves your touch extra when she finds you've been around anyone or anything she sees as a threat to your wellbeing, needing to reassure herself you're okay and she's protecting you in her arms. Every morning starts with a very long cuddling session and if you try to cute it short she'll be very angry with all her employees that day. ♡

♡ Beyond physical touch she shows affection by killing everyone who hurt you in this timeline or the last one. She also wants to make sure you have everything you should have as a noble lady, everything that was denied to you just because you were illegitimate. You're lavished with a very big, large bedroom which is so much better than the annex room you had to be in before and she stops you from doing anything that could exert your body. ♡

♡ Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? ♡

♡ She doesn't see anyone who isn't her sister as even a person and since they aren't people in her mind, there's no issue with squashing a bug to protect your happiness. It doesn't matter if the person didn't even do anything to you this timeline, it doesn't matter if they've changed as a person, it doesn't even matter if the person is royalty, anyone that could harm you is getting killed. That's why she really wants to make your territory part of the kingdom because the nobles of the kingdom would never cross someone when it comes to the one they love, the country you're currently in doesn't understand. ♡

♡ Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? ♡

♡ She could never bear being cruel to her precious sister, even in the original timeline having to hide her feelings for your sake felt too cruel in her opinion, she just can't do it. At least not on purpose, you might consider her killing an innocent person cruel especially if they were your 'friend' but everyone is out to get you in her mind so even if you're crying right now, hopefully you'll understand that person was dangerous. She doesn't blame you for falling for their lies though no matter how much it hurts her heart to have you hating her. ♡

♡ Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? ♡

♡ She tries not to go against her darling's wants when she can, like letting you go into town even when she really doesn't want to so in some ways she's less strict than others might be but she also stops you from doing anything she views as dangerous to you which could be a bunch of random things she's decided on any given day. These range from you walking, she could have sworn she saw your leg wobbling so clearly your legs must rest today, to using your magic really honestly at all because you trying to use it to warm yourself killed you in the past timeline. Some days you can talk her into letting you use it but usually it's just automatically a no go. General things she'll try to stop you from doing is talking to other people though she can't stop you from liking the maid she assigned to you, she wants you to know even if the maid is nice you can't trust anyone who is not her. ♡

♡ Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? ♡

♡ She might be a bit too exposed when it comes to her darling, part of it makes you wonder how she was able to hold back her feelings in the previous timeline considering how much of her true self she's letting loose. Really she just had incredible restraint but on this timeline she has you by her side so there's no need for any of that restraint. She holds back the more violent thoughts though about a gruesome bloody revenge because that might scare you. You're really too kind to people who don't deserve it in her opinion but oh well, she'll refrain from telling you all the cruel and unusual punishments she would inflict upon your former spouse since you wouldn't understand it yet. She's very forthcoming with just how into you she is, so much you wish she'd shut her mouth because you'd rather not have her telling you about how in the previous timeline she sniffed your dirty laundry just to feel close to you. ♡

♡ Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? ♡

♡ She would view it as two different possibilities. Either you were manipulated or just don't understand that she's here to protect you in which case she'll sit you down and explain how much she loves you and how devoted she is to your protection slowly as if you're stupid, she doesn't think you are but it'll feel that way with how slowly she talks at you. Or perhaps this is because of the past timeline and you're just stressed from the past which means she'll have to prove her devotion by killing the people in the past who were the cause of this trauma response, not that she wasn't planning on picking them off slowly anyways. She thinks the fighting back will calm down and besides there's a limit to how much you can fight back against her when she's so much taller than you, you punching her feels cute and like nothing, she will take issue with it if you hurt yourself in your attempt to fight back. ♡

♡ Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? ♡

♡ None of this is a game to her and while she adores everything her sister does and finds watching your struggle somewhat adorable because it's you and you can't do anything that's not cute, she'd much rather have you not struggling so hard against her. She just wants you to be happy with her. There's certain methods of rebellion she hates more than others like trying to harm yourself or not speaking to her. You didn't speak to her for two years before your death which broke her heart and even if it's only the silent treatment for a day or two she would be falling all over herself trying to make you talk to her again before she loses her fucking mind. ♡

♡ Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? ♡

♡ Probably the first timeline honestly, you already went through an extremely painful death so if you remember the first timeline that's probably the worst thing you've ever gone through. If you don't remember though then the worst experience is probably seeing people you liked being killed because in the first timeline they tried to hurt you so she got rid of them without explanation. It's incredibly isolating to have her removing people for reasons you could never understand because you don't know about the first timeline, even if you do her killing like this probably seems needless so having everyone die is probably the worst you'll experience. Though her memory is also weird at times so you might have some confusing days where she had a dream where you cheated, thought it was real and she spends the day pressing you to tell her who it was while you're so confused. Eventually you'll get used to her dreams. ♡

♡ Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? ♡

♡ Don't let her meet with Ainsley under any circumstances because if she learns about immortality through blood sacrifice she would do that for the both of you in a heartbeat. Beyond that her main goal is to eliminate everyone who hurt you in the past and live a very long life spending as much time as she can with you. She adores you with all her heart and since she didn't get to spend much time with you in the last timeline trying her hardest to break your bond with your previous spouse, this time she wants to make up for that agony. She of course wants to be married to you. She doesn't want kids, she would make herself infertile because she doesn't want to be sharing your attention ever and since she only cares for her sister she's pretty sure she wouldn't even be able to love her own child if you had them.

♡ Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? ♡

♡ She'd be jealous of your own child, she's jealous of a dream. The point is she's easily jealous and she does not find good ways to cope with it. Usually she kills to calm her jealously or clings to her sister more until she starts to feel a bit better. ♡

♡ Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? ♡

♡ She's clingy and overly affectionate. Unlike in the past she just tells you what she wants and tries to make you give into her whims of you staying connected to her for the whole day but folds relatively easily when you make requests because it pains her physically when she has to deny those requests. She also loves pleasuring you and will do it multiple times a day if you let her have your way. She never screams near you either, if she was about to behead someone and you walk in she's acting like nothing was happening because she would never want to scare you. ♡

♡ Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? ♡

♡ She's not very good at the courting stage because as soon as she completed the bond with you this time, she saw you as already a couple, no courting necessary. It doesn't mean she's not romantic with you but there was no need to woo you because surely you'll understand from her actions that she truly loves you and she's the only one who could love you this deeply or go to the lengths she does in order to protect you. If you want to be courted better though just ask and she'll take you on plenty of dates as much as she doesn't like you going outside. Also with how she romanticizes things to herself she might already believe a moment you thought was nothing was already a show of your intense feelings for each other. ♡

♡ Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? ♡

♡ In the first timeline no one knew what she was actually thinking ever. She fooled everyone into thinking she was the respectable duke heir when deep down she was a murderous siscon who longed to spend all day huffing your scent. In this current timeline though everyone knows that right off the bat and it terrifies them how one day she just seemingly went crazy. They might even think you hexed her but this was what she was thinking her entire life. She just doesn't have a reason to hid it anymore. Actually one person suspected it, your mother since she stopped her from kicking you out on several occasions, she just didn't know Rayna was this bad about it. ♡

♡ Naughty: How would they punish their darling? ♡

♡ She could never punish you, next question. ♡

♡ Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? ♡

♡ The right to interact with other people in any meaningful way. You died a painful death in your past life and so even people who didn't work at the manor in the last timeline are pests because they could have acted that way too perhaps if they had been there. People not included in her revenge are only allowed to live if they stay away from you and do their jobs of taking care of you when she's busy properly. You also can't go too far from her but that makes sense because the two of you are bonded so it would be painful for you to be too far. She does go overboard with what she considers too far away. ♡

♡ Patience: How patient are they with their darling? ♡

♡ You're her cute sister so of course she has to handle you with all the patience and care in the world. That doesn't mean she's not doing things to you though, it just means when you throw a fit or defy her she won't get angry with you ever, only with the people around you misguiding you. She forgives you for not understanding why she has to get her revenge. She does push boundaries alot especially when it comes to pleasuring you and showing her affection. ♡

♡ Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? ♡

♡ She'd end herself too and then the timeline would go back to the beginning and she'd do her best to finally get it right this time if you died. If it was just an escape though she'd burn everything down looking for you and many people would die until she was eventually killed taking on a fight she couldn't handle. ♡

♡ Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? ♡

♡ Nope, this is for your own good, she's your knight and you must stay with your big sis because she'll protect you. ♡

♡ Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? ♡

♡ She didn't care about anything in the world until the day you were born and she knew she was going to devote everything to you. She played it cool and tried not to visit the annex nursery unless your governess was gone because she didn't want her mother to know she liked you that much and use it against you. But anyways basically from birth she was a freak who hated everything but when you were born she found her reason to live. She's always been this freaky siscon. ♡

♡ Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? ♡

♡ It breaks her heart when you do this, all she can do is hold you tighter and hope her overwhelming affection gets through to you. When you didn't talk to her in the past timeline she felt like a shell of a person and it was so hard to keep her act up, she almost did break it a few times but she knew she needed to continue to act normal to find a way to break your previous bond with your spouse. Nothing hurts her more than seeing you sad or not speaking to her. ♡

♡ Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? ♡

♡ Other yanderes usually might have some other interests or things they liked before they found their love but she had none of those, everything she is good at or does is solely for your own personal benefit. ♡

♡ Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? ♡

♡ She's terrified of seeing you hurt so using your magic and threatening yourself may by you time to run, I guarantee she'll find a way to catch you later and make you tied up and unable to use magic. There's nothing she wouldn't do to find you and she's already been looking into jewelry that would make you not able to access your magic in case you try to use it and get hurt. ♡

♡ Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? ♡

♡ Maybe in the bedroom because she's strong and big but besides that, no. ♡

♡ Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? ♡

♡ Her sister is the only thing in the entire world that matters to her so yes you could say she worships you and would do anything that won't harm you to win you over. ♡

♡ Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? ♡

♡ She yearned for so many years before she snapped. She revealed her interest as soon as the second timeline started though. ♡

♡ Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? ♡

♡ She'd try not to but if you were broken she'd hold out hope until forever and she would never hurt you or herself on purpose to reset the timeline. She'd stay with you until you were 80 even if you never showed signs of getting better. ♡

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere scenarios #tw.incest #my oc ray

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purplerakath · 3 days ago

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School Spirits S2 Theories - Ep 1-3

So the first episodes did a lot of things, they mostly feed into my theories from last season. I don't plan to distinguish between the three episodes as I don't have time to rewatch them one at a time so I will just- do all of them.

Spoilers, and junk.

Despair Theory

For those that didn't see any of my theories before, despair theory is the way that heartbreak ties into connecting to the spirit world. Both in the creation of Ghosts, and being able to hear/see ghosts. This has gotten two big additional pieces of evidence.

Janet is just as much of a despair pit as the other ghosts. Thanks to her dad. (I hate her dad.)

Xavier can't see ghosts, because in spite of everything, he isn't heartbroken enough to see them.

I would add that the next living person closest to the despair event horizon to see ghosts is Claire, thanks to her whole... everything. Ironically the two that want to see Maddie are too hopeful to see Maddie.

This feels a little too solid to break apart with new information. The themes of the show feed into it too much to really argue the point any other way. The only real question marks to the theory are the band kids (they're weird) and Xavier's small stint in the ghost world while he was dying.

But the latter is less evidence and more anomalous, he was dead a few moments. And the second part of what we know comes into play now.

The Doors, the Keys, and Crossing Over

So the path to the Other Side is blocked off by... whatever snarl of trauma has these ghosts trapped. Which is physically accessed with the key (an item from your death) and the scar (the location of your death). That was pretty well set-up already.

Because we've seen it before. The Reverse Seance. Dawn didn't have her room, or her key. She just... recalled all of her trauma, faced it, and found whatever her answer was. We assumed, at the time, it was Maddie calling her a friend. But now?

I don't know how to tie that into the rooms and the keys. The structure of the rooms makes it seem like you have to find the answer in yourself, but so much of the show is about the characters as a comradery. And if the mechanism for crossing over is built on a little help from your friends, it means someone doesn't get to cross over.

I dunno, I'm curious where this will go. And it's the thing we haven't investigated yet since it was the end of Ep 3.

Janet and the Dead

I don't think Janet can see the dead, right now. At least, that's what I think they were setting up with the flashbacks to her leaving? It'll make the whole thing more complicated if she can't talk to the dead kids, but know they're there.

I do think Janet and Maddie interacting is going to be the juiciest drama when it happens, and I do want that very much.

Other Thoughts

Quinn is adorable. I like Quinn.

Charlie kind of feels underwritten so far this season, but this season has been a lot of Wally and Rhonda thus far.

Again, Janet's dad is the worst. Hate that guy.

Where is Theater Ghost!?

The living buying everything Simon said about Maddie feels weird but also not that weird. Because the more they see how nothing Janet does makes sense for Maddie, the easier it is to think 'that's not Maddie.'

Yuri is pretty adorable, not gonna lie. I do appreciate how every ghost used as evidence for Mr. Sketchy Ghost Teacher's teachings is in fact not evidence at all.

Except for the Band Ghosts, who are still very weird.

...I'll do one of these next week with the next episode, hopefully better put together.

#school spirits #school spirits spoilers #school spirits s2 #maddie nears #janet hamilton #school spirits season 2

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mastermindmiko · 2 days ago

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The goblin wars

Pairing: Regulus Black + reader

Summary: Regulus has been in a bad mood all day, and you try to figure out why

word count: 1.2k

warnings: mentions of regulus' bad family? I think that's all, but lmk if you find anything

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

“Spit it out.” I snapped at him. Regulus lifts his head up from his book, and looks at me feigning innocence. He’s been grumbling all day long, and I have no idea why. I give him a glare and say, “You’ve been in a sour mood all day long, did something happen or is history of magic that despicable?”

“It’s nothing.” He mumbles, and looks back at his textbook. I ignore the unconvincing response, and look back at my own essay for History of magic. I turn to look back at what Regulus’ wrote, hopefully to get a few extra points from his own essay to find out that the parchment paper is empty. It’s furthermore proof that something is wrong.

“Humph!” Regulus grunts, as he flips through one of the pages, aggressively. I blink a few times at his abnormal reaction, and then decide that I’ve had enough. I slam my own textbook shut, and take the book away from his hands. I say, “Alright, tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, it’s just the goblin wars, that’s all.” Regulus negates, and then I give him a stern look. He purses his lips and looks away. I narrow my eyes at him, and stand up, “I’m leaving.”

“I am not going to spend my day with someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.” I protest. I pull out my bag from the chair beside me and start to put my papers and quills in there. He reaches out to take a hold of my hand and then pulls me down back to my seat. He mourns, “I’m sorry, alright, I’ll tell you.”

“Y-hm- spending too mu-hmph time wum lupihmph.” He mumbles, and I look at him confused. His face turns a slight shade of pink that he can never hide from me because of how pale his skin is. I tease him, “you’re going to have to use your big boy words for this, Reggie.”

“You’re spending too much time with Lupin.” He blurts, and out of all the possible reasons for his attitude that one was the least expected. I thought it would be a bad grade, or a letter from his parents, or possibly a fight with Sirius, but I never thought that this would be the reason. I couldn’t even understand what he meant. I inquired, “What do you mean?”

“I- forget it.” he backs down, and reaches out to grab his book once more. I take his hand in mine before he can take his book, and play with the rings on his fingers to calm him down. I affirm, “If you don’t want to talk it’s fine, but I want to know what’s bothering you. It’s all a part of being in a relationship.”

I understood that Regulus didn’t come from a family like mine. He had a hard time expressing himself. He couldn’t even tell me that he liked me for the longest time, we were simply just teetering with our feelings for months before I decided that it was time for more. He’s gotten better since the start of our relationship, but there was still a long way to go. All that mattered to me was his comfort, and I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me about anything.

“It seems as though, whenever you’re not with me or with your brother, you’re with him.” He confesses, and I squeeze his hand, reassuring him to continue, “You’re always with him, during breakfast, at the library, at the Quidditch stands, everywhere-”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks, looking at me as if I’m a maniac when my concerned reassuring look turned into a very wide, teasing grin. I chuckle and he pouts at me which makes me chuckle even more. I giggle, “You’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” he corrects, and lets go of my hand and folds it in front of his chest, defensively. I can’t help but continue laughing as his face turns a darker shade of pink wright before my eyes. I laugh, “You’re really jealous.”

“Jealousy is not a word that I happen to be familiar with.” he defends, and looks away from me. I reach out to grab his cheek and turn his face to look at me. I bit my lip to prevent any laughs from coming out as I say, “Oh come on, don’t be like that. It’s cute.”

“It can’t be cute because I’m not jealous.” he says, and I let go of his face. My lips are spread thin as I try once more to contain my laughter, and feign a look of seriousness to lift my hands up in surrender and relent, “Alright, fine, you’re not.”

“But if you were, I’d tell you that there’s nothing to be jealous about, and that Remus is just a friend who happens to like the same books as I do, and doesn’t like to play Quidditch as well so instead watches the matches with me.” I reassure him, and I can see some of the tension ease away from his shoulders. He looks at me and then mumbles, “I like the same books you like too.”

His cute and shy pout and expression tugs at my heartstrings, and I can’t help but shoot out of my share and wrap my arms around him. It wasn’t often that Regulus was this open. As I breathe in his scent and cuddle myself closer to his chest, I feel just how important he is to me. The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them, “I love you, Regulus.”

All the stiffness that had left his shoulders came back quick, and even more than before. I feel his hands pause around my waist, and I scrunch my face up in regret. I pull back and sit on my chair. I look down at my shoes, not wanting to look at his probably disgruntled expression. I choke, “Sorry, I don’t know what happened…”

“It’s okay.” He whispers, and I firmly close my eyes, and I ramble, “I don’t know why I said it like this, I know these things are hard for you, and I made the situation worse. This just isn’t the time or the place and I-”

“It’s okay.” He repeats, but I can’t bring myself to take it seriously, feeling the weight of my actions get heavier and heavier. I sigh, and place my head in my hands. I feel my eyes start to water, and I feel so completely stupid as I try to push them back. Regulus would feel even worse if he saw me cry.

“Hey…” he trails off and I blink back the tears that were threatening to escape and tilt my head up to look at him. Unlike what I expected, his eyes weren’t filled with pity and surprise. He gives me a soft smile before saying, “I love you too.”

“You do?” I gasp, lifting my head up from my hands, looking at him, bewildered. I burst, “I don’t want you just to say it for the sake of saying it back to me, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, or say anything that you’re not feeling, or-”

“I wouldn’t say it, if I’m not feeling it, love.” he admits, and I feel my eyes water once more. I waste no time to lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips. He returns the kiss, enthusiastically and then he wraps his arms around me tighter. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe from the sheer amount of emotions I was feeling, or maybe because of how tight Regulus’ grip was, either way, I couldn’t be happier.

a/n: I have lost my ability to name things :( I need sirius help

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fateofflames · 1 day ago

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Yuji feels content when Megumi agrees to take him along next time, and he relaxes even more when his friend humors him by lying down beside him. He knows it’s a little weird to ask Megumi to sleep next to him, but hey—if he remembers this in the morning, he’ll just blame the alcohol. Then again… was it really that weird? Sure, they weren’t as close as before, but to Yuji, it didn’t feel all that different—aside from the fact that they were both grown now.

His feelings for Megumi haven’t changed, though. He still admires him, still wants to learn from him, and still enjoys spending time with him. And if possible, he wants to know him even better. After all, Megumi was the first real friend Yuji ever had. He’s made more friends since then, sure, but Megumi is different—someone he truly wants in his life. Maybe it's nostalgia clinging to the warmth of old memories, or maybe… maybe it’s just Megumi.

Either way, tipsy Yuji is absolutely delighted when Megumi settles in beside him. The rest? A blur. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, doesn’t remember shifting closer, doesn’t remember draping his limbs over Megumi at some point in the night. Who knows how much he moved? Hopefully, Megumi slept as well as he did. Yuji usually sleeps just fine, but maybe the alcohol knocked him out harder than usual because he passed out cold, not waking for anything.

So when Yuji does wake up, he’s very surprised to find Megumi still asleep—on his shoulder. He barely breathes, afraid to disturb him, and instead just watches, a small smile creeping onto his face. Megumi looks peaceful like this, and Yuji barely gets a moment to enjoy it before—

Oh. Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes flutter open.

Yuji has zero time to fake being asleep or pretend he wasn’t staring. His face heats up instantly, but despite his embarrassment, he flashes Megumi a bright, almost sheepish smile.

“Good morning. Sorry about last night—I was a bit much, huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck but still doesn’t move his arm from where Megumi is using it as a pillow. Not that he minds. Not at all. But wow, why is it so hot in here all of a sudden? He bites his lower lip slightly, trying to keep his cool.

“But it was fun! I like sleepovers.”

…Why did he say that? Oh great, now Megumi is going to think Yuji is just mooching off him for another night in his nice, big house. Quickly, he tries to recover.

“Next time, you can come to my room if you want—though I guess it’s not as big or as nice as this…”

His voice trails off as he realizes he should probably just stop talking. It’s still early. Megumi probably regrets inviting him to dinner last night. And definitely regrets letting him drink.

“ Okay, I promise not to leave without you. ”

Megumi's heart ache for all the GOOD reasons. It ached with longing and confusion of course, but he liked being needed. It fooled him into thinking that maybe Yuji liked him more than just a best friend. Being friends was perfectly fine and more than anything Megumi had already. He would be happy if they continued being friends until they were old and grey but yes, he wanted more. If this was for one night then he would savor it.

It was wrong to take advantage of the drunk but it wasn't like Megumi held any ill intentions. He wasn't going to -- heaven forbid -- kiss him. That was wrong. He would stay the night or at least until Yuji fell asleep soundly. Megumi laughed to himself and returned to Sunflower. Porcupine and Sunflower. Only once had Megumi stayed over at the Itadoris when a storm rolled by unexpectedly. It was only once because Megumi's hide had been beaten and he was locked away in his bedroom for a week after returning home.

The faces of his uncles cruel faces melted away looking at Yuji on the bed. Megumi's heart began beating wildly as he unlaced and removed his shoes. He took off his jacket and vest, folding them up on the table, then slowly joined Yuji on the bed. His mind kept telling him this was wrong. Anyone seeing this would think they were doing something bad but no one would ever see. Satoru maybe if he was nosy. And if Yuji yelped and was mad in the morning, Megumi would blame it on drunkenness.

“ I'm here. ”

The bed even being a guest bed was plenty big for both of them. Both of them could sleep comfortably but they were still touching. Arms and shoulders brushing against each other. It was so different back then. Megumi was born into wealth but he didn't mind the lumpy Itadori mattress. Megumi never judged them for anything. They were surviving and they were HAPPY. With thousands of dollars to the Zen'in name none of them were happy least of all Megumi. Like that night Megumi turned his head and watched the happy boy in wonder.

Megumi watched sunflower hug his pillow and pout. He looked so handsome. So... damn precious. Megumi sniffed back a tear and tore his gaze away. He lied staring at the ceiling. He listened to the owls calling outside. One hour later he fell asleep. The oil in the lamp burned up. It wasn't until sunrise hit the windows in orange and yellows did Megumi open his eyes and groaned.

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petras-drizzt-corner · 5 months ago

Note

Dear Supporter,

I hope this message finds you and your family in good health and high spirits. My name is Rakan Zaqout from Gaza.🍉 I am reaching out to seek your urgent help in spreading the word about our fundraising campaign. I lost both my home and my school, my parents lost their jobs too, due to the ongoing genocide in Gaza and we are now facing catastrophic living conditions.💔

I kindly ask you to visit our campaign. Your support, whether through donating or sharing, will help us reach more people who can make a difference. Thank you for your continued support for the Palestinian cause. Your dedication brings us closer to freedom.🕊

Please note, our campaign has been verified by @90-ghost and @aces-and-angels.☑

hey there! Thanks for reaching out!

Not too sure what I can do donation-wise right now, but I can certainly share this news and pray for you guys.

Be seeing ya!

#fundraiser #this is important #and i wish i could do more #but hopefully this finds someone who can!

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somnimagus · 1 year ago

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My page for @kairizine. It was such a huge honor to be part of this wonderful book with everyone, I had so much fun!

[id in alt!]

#kingdom hearts #kh #kh kairi #kh xion #kh namine #i don't really feel proud of my own stuff usually but #i really think this is the drawing i'm most proud of from this past year!! it made me think 'oh maybe i can draw' haha #i'm still kinda bad with colors but something clicked with this one. and i feel like i got the sentimental feeling i wanted!#ooh but this project's about flower symbolism so ramble incoming:#protea symbolizes resilience transformation and diversity; hollyhock means 'please remember me.'#so my general theme was finding a sense of self.#these 3 have struggled with finding their own identity; they tend to get left behind both in-universe and in general plotwise #and naminé and xion both resemble kairi and were overshadowed by her memory. but i feel like all 3 have transformed into their own people #xion and naminé have their faces covered partially by hollyhock to show their wish to be remembered for who they are-#instead of the parts that they share with someone else #and the protea bouquets show how they each held on and resiliently grew into their own person despite it all #i put a little swervy path on the hill behind kairi to give that hopeful sense of growth and moving forward. it's a little hard to see #hopefully that makes sense! i really love symbolism but i think in visuals so i'm really bad with words #but gosh working with everyone on this project was so fun. it was like impossible not to get swept up by the team's hype for this zine #i need to hunt down everybody's work and rb it #ohh and everybody's flowers are so crisply drawn it's insane!! i think if i lined all these flowers and leaves i'd die haha #fan art #my art #project stuff

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hyperpotamianarch · 2 months ago

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So, Jewish Fantasy! A very nebulous idea that tries to catch form in many different ways. I don't know much about how it works outside of Israel - I saved the recommendation list that circulated around here but didn't try anything from it yet (outside of Spinning Silver, which I read before I ever saw the list). So, if anything of what I say seems ludicrous to you because you've seen a book that does it well - don't hesitate to recommend it to me! Though I'm not sure how applicable it will be for what I'm about to say.

There are a couple of angles from which one can try to get at Jewish Fantasy: through using Jewish folklore and myth as a basis for your story, through using Jewish characters or by writing out of a Jewish cultural context. In certain stories, different angles tend to be more pronounced - Charashta is based on Midrashim and Jewish folklore, Spinning Silver has Jewish characters, and Agam HaTzlalim is written out of some degree of Jewish culture. Yeah, two of those are Israeli books that weren't translated, feel free to give alternative examples but those are the only one I can safely talk about since I've actually read them.

I could elaborate more on that, but what actually made me want to write a post on the topic was a post about how so much of Fantasy is Greek (in a way) and Sci-Fi is Roman. And that made me think, what about Jewish Fantasy? And while this is a topic I've thought of and been somewhat involved in conversations on for some time now, this is looking at it from a particular angle. An angle which could be examplified by the simple question: why is there no Jewish Disney Princess?

All right, all right, settle down. I know about the Vanollope von Schweetz thing. Quite frankly, considering the source for it is the word of the actress and that it has no effect on the story whatsoever, I think I'm fine with ignoring it. Feel free to shout at me in the comments, hopefully the rest of the post will explain this better.

You see, the problem is that Disney Princesses mostly come from stories about Medieval Europe, and in that particular time and place "Jewish" and "royalty" were inherently contradictory. A Jewish girl couldn't have been a princess, because Jewish communities were never a part of the ruling class. At least not in medieval Europe.

Now the reason what I'm saying is rubbish is because of other contradictory examples, like Mulan or Tiana, and maybe Pocahontas or Esmeralda. And based off of those examples I could probably whip up a couple of ideas on how to do an interesting Jewish Princess story - base it on the Book of Judith, for example, or offer a Jewish twist on some European folktales (which might be hard considering some of them actually have straight up Jewish characters playing as the villains), or... have a movie about Jews assimilating into European culture... Yeah, I can see why Pocahontas or the Hunchback of Notre-Dame might feel a little uncomfortable. But the point is: Fantasy is based on Medieval times, and Jews' role during that time wasn't one of royalty.

You can't really write a medieval Jewish kingdom, because there wasn't really any. And yes, many people try using the Khazarians for that. However, their kingdom was only Jewish for a century, maybe, before it was completely destroyed. Plus, we barely have any data on what it looked like, and its culture was likely very different from Jewish culture. So the medieval presentation of Jews would have to be of a persecuted minority. That, essentially, is what we see in Spinning Silver: a Jewish family in medieval times, a member of which serves as our protagonist. And Maryem is pretty much constantly angry about the antisemitism flourishing all around her. So I suppose that could be an example to follow - along with the stories about Maharal of Prague and the Golem, fighting blood libels.

So, you can portray Jews as an oppressed minority, constantly fighting their persecution. An alternative could probably be following the example of Ḥassidic stories, talking about the Rebbe, the Renter, the Trader and the Widow (regular character archetypes in such tales). You could have the antagonist be the local Pariz, nobleman, or perhaps the gentile that decided to be a robber, or occasionally a fellow Jew who out-leassed your protagonist from their home. All regular tropes in the day-to-day life of an... (checks notes) early modern Eastern Europen Jew? Huh. I suppose it's not exactly the same period.

Either way, if you want your story to be more fuly Jewish, to not always play against the backdrop of a non-Jewish kingdom, you have some interesting options. The first question would be: are you taking from the past or the present? If you choose present, well, you can choose between Diasporan or Israeli culture. In addition, this will more or less constrain you to some type of Urban Fantasy or other Hidden World stories, with not much of an option to delve into Epic Fantasy. If that's what you want to do - great! Go ahead and do that. Personally, I have some degree of a problem with how I've seen Israeli culture portrayed in stories so far, but that's a story unto itself.

If you choose past... well... Jewish history is nothing if not long. And if we're really trying to make a more Jewish backdrop, we'll probably need to pull from Jewish independant states or kingdoms. Of which there are a couple that can be used - Ancient Israel throughout the time of the Tanach, from the Judges through the first kings and the divided kingdoms of Judea and Israel; Yehud Medinta, which while it existed under the Persians had a Jewish governor for certain periods; the Hasmonean Dynasty, with all its ups and downs; the Kingdom of Adiabene, which converted to Judaism for a time; some short-lived Jewish independant states in defiance of the Romans; and of course, the infamous Kingdom of Khazar. There are also legendary kingdoms of the lost 10 tribes, which could possibly work as interesting additions. It is also important to note that in the Tanachic period I included a pretty vast array of periods, including the Judges (periodical local saviors and heroes), the House of Sha'ul (which isn't too easy to characterize), the Davidic Dynasty (Temple! Prophets! A bloodline promised to last! Evrything you might want from a kingdom), and the Kingdom of Israel (a couple of dynasties have their own characteristics, but most didn't survive for long).

Maybe I'll try my hand in suggesting what a kingdom based on the Hasmonean Dynasty could look like later. For now, let us start with: there is no medieval Jewish kingdom, so we'll take one from the Hellenistic period or from the Bronze Age to cover it up! Either that, or we'll try figuring out the structure of the early medieval kingdom that converted to Judaism that one time.

I'm not sure how much of a point I made, really. Thank you for reading, and have a good day!

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