#but that does not take away from the fact that women finally had this wonderful big thing and men found a way to exploit it

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 6: Pup Cup

Masterlist

Summary: Simon unexpectedly runs into you... and your friends... and Tyler.

Warnings: dissociation, jealousy

It was finally Saturday - a Saturday where you had cleared your schedule, and so had Leslie and Nina. AND Tyler. Which was maybe once every two months. So, you had made plans to get brunch with the girls, the three of you deciding to dress up a bit and get mimosas. Tyler had promised to swing by around one to take you around the city, then to spend a cozy day at his apartment.

Right now, it was girl time. The three of you had your mimosa pitcher and a shared basket of fries, delving into each other's personal drama.

"And then Marcie asked me to pick up this Saturday - today, mind you - because she forgot the two interns were finished this Thursday. Of course, I told her no, in the most professional way I could - and she had the audacity to say I needed to pick up more slack. Me!!"

Nina scoffed. Your jaw dropped open. "You've been there the longest!"

Leslie nodded. "Longer than her, too! God, I could've let her have it, right then and there-" she sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Of course, I didn't. But I made sure she knew I would not be coming in on my day off, that I had planned for weeks."

You snapped your fingers in applause, making Leslie chuckle. "Bravo to you - we love seeing women fighting women in the workplace."

"Oh, stuff it." She laughed, swatting your hands away. "Feels like an episode of 'The Office,' if you ask me. Just too bloody insane to be real."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of your mimosa. Your eyes wandered down to your purse, hanging from the side of your chair, your phone tucked away within. I wonder what Simon's up to... what does he do on his days off?

"Speaking of women in the workplace..." Leslie turns to Nina, who was scowling at her phone. "Who's got you so irate on a Saturday?"

"Idiots, that's who." She grumbled, furiously punching away at the keyboard on her screen. "It's as if the minute I take a personal vacation, everyone and their grandmother suddenly need a wedding planner." She sighed and tucked her phone back into her purse. "I'm sorry..."

You and Leslie shook your head, reassuring her that it was alright. God forbid she starts falling into the "I work so hard and get nothing in return" schpeel - which would be believable and understandable, if it wasn't for the fact that she played that card every time the three of you were together.

"Did you hear she started dog-sitting?" Leslie said, nodding in your direction.

That snapped Nina out of her own head. "You did? What does that have to do with your design work?"

You huffed. "Well, it doesn't - but, and I told you this, Leslie" - she laughed at your glare - "that I was just looking for a house-sitting gig, like what I did before I left that stupid company. Just until I got a few clients to myself, and could start my own business."

"Busy bee..." Leslie commented, and Nina nodded in agreement.

"Not nearly as you two - remember how hard it was for me and Tyler to have a weekend together? Now I'm the one waiting for him. He's even started coming with me when I take Riley for walks - just to spend more time together."

"How sweet..." Leslie cooed.

"Riley?" Nina asked.

"The dog." You answered. "She's a wonderful dog, really. Used to be military, before her... injury..."

You trailed off, staring at something between Leslie's and Nina's heads. They stared at you in confusion for a moment, until you beamed widely and started waving your hand. They turned to stare at whomever had caught your attention.

Simon wasn't one for "get-togethers," as he heard them called. He was perfectly fine spending his leave at home, only leaving to walk Riley or get his groceries and smokes. He'd occasionally text the team and see what they were up to, but other than that - he had no problem living like a hermit.

Soap was the one to suggest the idea of the team getting lunch together, since they were all nearby for work. Of course, Gaz was never one to turn down a group outing; once he was in, Price had decided they all might as well go. ("Should be a team off the field too, right?")

So that's how Simon had been forced to come out of his cave. And no, it might not seem like he was forced... but it would be rude of him not to go, so therefore, societal standards were forcing him. That, and Soap would bitch about him being a "bawbag" for weeks if he didn't tag along.

He decided to bring Riley with him, since it had been a few weeks since she had seen everyone. She looked around as she panted, walking besides Simon through the mildly-crowded sidewalk. It was a decent Saturday afternoon, with a mix of cloud and sun hanging in the sky. Simon wore his usual jeans and a sweatshirt, along with a black surgical mask.

He needed a head start for the day. Not that he didn't enjoy spending time with his team outside of work... but people were exhausting, especially when he was forced into proximity with them. He needed a few hours to himself, in public, just to wake up his social battery. The best way to achieve that? Tea, Riley, and people-watching.

So that's how he found himself, next in line at the coffee counter of a restaraunt he’d been to a few times before. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he held Riley's leash; her head was on a swivel, sniffing the aromas that wafted through the air, and the occasional hand of each person who passed her. Simon was thankful people were wary of his presence - it kept everyone from trying to lean down and pet Riley without his permission.

The customer in front of him moved away from the counter, and Simon stepped forward. The girl behind the cash register smiled at him, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"Jus' a tea. Medium, no sugar, no cream."

"Would you like the passionfruit tea or the mint berry mixer? Or our jasmine goddess?"

"... d'you have black tea?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, I'll get your black tea."

Simon huffed as he put his cash on the counter. Don' get why tha's funny...

He watched as she moved - rather sluggishly, he thought. Despite that her makeup did a fantastic job of hiding how tired she must have been, he could see it in her eyes and actions. The way she stood there, shoulders slightly slumped as she watched the hot water pour into Simon's cup, her arms resting heavily against the counter. He looked behind him briefly, noticing how long the line was for the cafe. Not to mention she had dine-in orders to fulfill, too... and she's alone at the coffee bar. He turned back, watching as she fought to make sure the lid was properly secured on his cup. It made him a bit nervous, how she supported nearly all of her weight onto the top. What if it crumples? What if she gets burnt? Is there a burn kit behind the shelf? Probably not-

Riley whined, snapping Simon’s attention away from the barista and down towards her. She licked her lips and stared up at him curiously.

She always knows.

He sighed, patting her flank. "Thanks, girl."

The barista returned with his tea, as well as a small cup of whipped cream with a dog biscuit poking out of it. “For your friend.” She said with a too-tight smile.

Simon stared blankly at the whipped cream cup. "I didn't order tha’.” He said bluntly.

“It’s on the house! Pup cups are free.” She said, nudging the two items towards Simon. “Don’t worry, there’s no added sugars in the whipped cream, and the treat is allergen-free.”

Why does everyone assume dogs have allergies? Simon thought to himself. He glanced at Riley for a brief moment – she looked back at him, certainly not expecting a treat, not yet. She’d hounded him enough for those goddamn biscuits all morning, the ones you’d been spoiling her with, and he had no choice but to follow the routine and gave her one. This created a cycle that sent him to the doggie-daycare once a week to pick up more, since the old woman who made them only sold them there. Without even intending to, most likely, you were taking more from his wallet than he had hired you for. Not that he minded… it was all for Riley, however, he was almost certain he’d buy a fucking parrot if you were the one convincing him.

Riley let out a garbled sound, making Simon realize he was still staring at her. And holding up the line. Shit, socializing was more taxing than he thought…

“Thanks…” he mumbled, grabbing his drink and the cup of whipped cream. He carefully directed himself and Riley through the crowd and over to the condiment shelf, setting both items down and adjusting his grip on Riley’s leash. He still had a few hours to kill; it’s a bit cramped in here, he thought as he grabbed a handful of napkins, eyeing the throng of coffee addicts and beatniks in the cafe, there’s always the bench by the fountain on Muller and 4th street, that might-

The sight of your familiar, perfect, sparkling eyes sucked the air and the thoughts from his body in a matter of a single second. That bright personality speared him like a harpoon as you waved from across the café, beckoning him over with a waggle of your fingers. His mind was trying to catch up after being knocked off of its feet, and he finally inhaled.

You looked equally surprised to see him - but he wasn't paying attention to that. He noticed your eyeliner and lipstick, how it made your features even brighter than they typically were. You'd worn your hair down, which was the first time he'd seen it like this since he hired you. Your nails were painted a soft pink, which accentuated the mimosa glass like an orange sunset across a blush sky... and your dress. Of course, it was bright and floral, just like your personality. But it was soft, too. The way it fitted so nicely around you - not too tight, perfectly settled around your shoulders and hips, making you look delicate. Simon was sure if he was to reach out and touch your arm, it would feel like he'd touched the skin of an angel.

He was too stunned to wave back, still frozen in the one spot by the counter as people flowed around him like river water around a stone. It wasn't until Riley had noticed you too and began whining that Simon finally gathered his bearings and nodded his head at you, stuffing the napkins in his pocket.

Two other heads swiveled around from your table and eyed him curiously, and for a moment, he groaned internally; you were with friends. Not horrible, but... not ideal. He didn't care to talk to anyone other than you at the moment – really, ever. Still, you were here, and that trumped all other factors. His anxieties moved to the sidelines when you were on the other end of the path. He clicked his tongue at Riley and grabbed his tea, carefully weaving through patrons and tables to get to you.

"Simon!" You chirped when he approached; you stood up and on your toes, reaching your arms to give him a side hug. He awkwardly stood there, attempting to hug you back by letting his arm curve around your upper back, careful not to spill his tea. Before he could stop himself, he took a deep, quiet breath in, nearly sighing at the smell of your perfume.

So floral and... sweet. Like the bookstore/plant nursery hybrid that he passes when he walks through town on his way for groceries.

You pulled away, and he straightened up. He was suddenly aware of the other two women staring at him.

"So sorry!" You said, turning to your friends. "Simon- this is Leslie, and Nina."

"’Ello." He said quietly, uninterested, and they each responded with their own "hi's". Leslie looked at him with a scrutinous stare, and he could feel her trying to peel him apart layer by layer. She looked like a corporate junkie, with her tight bun and high heels. Nina... she was... odd. She looked at him with her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes half-lidded... it made him uncomfortable. Both with the way she shamelessly ogled, and with how her eyes seemed to be a few unfortunate centimeters too far apart.

"And this is Riley!" You said, bending down and ruffling the dog’s fur. "How ya been, girl?"

She blinked at you as you pet her, sniffing the air between your face and hers. Her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted, nearly smiling up at you if she could have.

"Ya gone and spoiled her." Simon commented, feeling something warm at the sight of you and Riley. "She wants me to tuck 'er in every day, now. And she's got me runnin' to the dog daycare every week for those bloody biscuits."

Leslie pursed her lips, thinking Simon was being rather rude. You laughed, sitting back down in your seat. "She wasn't spoiled enough, in my opinion. Did she drag you to Poeheko Park yet?"

"She did. Thought I's about to be mugged."

You laughed again. Simon wished he could bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket, so he could pull it out and listen to it over and over whenever he wanted.

"I don't think anyone could mug you, Simon." You said, absentmindedly stroking Riley's fur as she sat next to you.

So you thought he was strong? Invincible? Oh, that did something to him.

"What do you do, Simon?" Leslie asked, sipping her mimosa. "For work?"

Definitely corporate... he thought, from the way her question sounded slightly interrogatory.

"Military." He said bluntly.

Nina's lips curled into a smile; he chose to ignore it.

"Her too?" Leslie pointed at Riley, who sniffed her extended hand.

"She was..." Simon looked down at her, a bit pleased that Riley huffed in distaste at the 'stranger'. "Retired. And a rotten princess now, thanks to you." He turned back to you, his expression lighting up the tiniest bit.

You could sense something - what it was exactly, you couldn't put your finger on it. Simon seemed... tense. Uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't like being thrown into social settings with people he didn't know. You understood it.

"Well-" you said, trying to ignore the way Nina stared at him. "I don't want to interrupt your morning."

"You weren't." He said, still looking at you.

You sent him a glance, and laughed nervously. He continued watching you - God bless anyone who was ever in a staring contest with this man - as Riley sat next to him obediently. Fuck, she was staring at you too...

Leslie looked back and forth between the two of you for a moment, with you blushing furiously, and Simon watching you like you were prey - fortunately, she found an opportunity to come for your rescue.

"Oh, Tyler's here, luv." She said, tilting her head towards the space behind you.

You turned in your seat and smiled, just as a man came up and whisked you out of your chair. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, and he smiled as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thought you were coming by around one?" You said, pulling back to look at his face.

"I was able to pick up the kit from work earlier than I expected, so I thought I'd come by now." He briefly waved at Leslie and Nina, tucking you into his side. "Sorry girls - lookin' lovely, by the way - but I'm stealin' her a bit early today."

Nina waved her hand dismissively. "We had something planned for tomorrow too; go right ahead." Leslie nodded in agreement.

Tyler smiled. "Perfect. Glad it's not too much of a- woah..."

He turned to look – to really take in the sight of the hulking, brooding man beside you, and he was very visibly taken aback. Simon's soft stare had turned into a cold, unforgiving glare. His eyes were hardened with - something. Maybe anger, maybe authority. He stood rigid and tall, with his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, as he bore holes into Tyler's frame.

Simon took him in: soft, brown hair, a slight tan, rough hands, yet soft features. Slight wrinkles around the eyes from smiling too much. A white shirt and jeans, with a plaid – it made sense, now where your stash had come from.

He liked the way that Tyler was a bit intimidated, as evident by the look in his eyes. What he didn't like, was... Tyler. How he held you close. How you let him hold you. And how he himself felt the urge to snatch you from Tyler's grasp and march you out of the cafe.

"Oh, sorry-" your voice brought them both out of their trance. "Tyler, this is Simon. My client."

"Ah!" Tyler smiled, relaxing a bit as he held his hand out. "Nice to meet you!"

Simon grabbed it firmly, making Tyler wince the tiniest bit as he shook his hand. "Likewise." Not in the slightest.

When he released his hand, Tyler bent down to Riley and offered his hand for a sniff. "I know we've met before, girl."

Simon felt something stir in his gut as Riley sniffed Tyler's hand. "Y' have?" He asked, his voice a bit harsh.

"He's never been in your house." You said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension in the air. "He just tags along for the walks sometimes. Keeps us company.”

Riley IS the company. Y’ don’t need an extra, luv.

"Mm." Simon said gruffly, looking down at Riley. She was sniffing Tyler's closed fist, then leaning back to stare up at Simon. She huffed in distaste.

He fought the urge to smirk. Good girl.

"What do you do, Simon?" Tyler asked, trying to be friendly.

Nina cleared her throat. He's milita-"

"Special Armed Services." Simon interrupted. "Ten years."

Tyler looked impressed. "Shit- that's tough, mate. Makes sense with how you- y'know..." he gestured to Simon's frame, then dropped his hands and cleared his throat. "Eh, nevermind."

"I's fine." Simon replied, standing a bit taller. "What d'you do?"

"Ah- heh, nothin' that impressive. Electrician."

Simon nodded, though it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. It was hard to completely emasculate a man when he did blue-collar work. And even harder when Tyler seemed to respect Simon. It was one thing to be an asshole to an asshole, but it was another to be an asshole to a decent man.

He had to reign himself in. Tyler was your boyfriend. Why was he trying to show the poor lad up after knowing him all for a minute and a half?

"Well, erm..." Leslie cut in. "Looks like you two need to get going, and we're nearly finished here." She smiled at Simon. "It was lovely meeting you!"

"Yeah mate!" Tyler said. "Nice to finally meet you!"

Simon paused for a moment. Normally, he would love to be ripped out of a conversation like this - but now, he'd suffer through the company of a few, annoying strangers if it meant he got to talk to you. But, he obliged, sensing that Leslie wanted him gone for a reason.

"Yeah, likewise." He said, giving Riley a pat, then he looked at you. "Might need you t' watch 'er soon, but I'll email you."

"I'll keep an eye out for it." You said with a flashy smile. "See you later, Simon!"

He grunted and nodded his head, then left them all at the table. Riley stayed dutifully by his side as they made their way through the crowd of cafe patrons.

Simon tried to smell your perfume for as long as it would cling to his shirt. Soon, the scents of coffee, sugar, and teas washed it out, and the lingering warmth your scent brought him had also vanished. The bitterness came right back into his throat, coating his tongue and making him grimace under his mask and his fists clench in his pockets.

Tyler seemed like a good man, and you were happy. He had no business feeling so possessive over something that wasn't his - something that belonged to someone else. He felt like he was missing a screw - his emotions were completely out of control, and he acted compulsively when it came to you. He told himself, as he walked out of the cafe and into the busy sidewalk, that the disappointment of discovering that you were Tyler's would be a good opportunity to work on himself.

He sighed, continuing down the path to the pub. Riley huffed as she trotted next to him, and he suddenly remembered the cup of whipped cream and the dog treat – most likely still abandoned on the condiment counter of the restaurant. “Don’ worry, girl, you can have some’f Johnny’s chips.”

Next ->

[yasministration]

The rabbit hole - Remus Lupin

remus lupin has a way with all the ladies, even the popular girls wc: 1.3k

Despite not being the most sought after marauder, Remus Lupin got more than enough attention from the ladies. Everyone knew it, especially you, who lived around girls always gushing about their newest crush. You have to admit, his name did come up a few times. But did it even matter? The term 'popular' wasn't one you’d use to describe yourself because you didn’t believe in putting people up on pedestals, including yourself. However, you couldn’t help it if those words were thrown at you by other people. You weren’t mad at it; getting attention from boys and being admired by younger girls was fulfilling and validating, and meant you never had trouble finding dates when you got bored. 

Unfortunately, it seemed you had fallen into the same rabbit hole many other girls surrounding you fell into - the rabbit hole called 'wanting the one man who wasn't interested'. You don’t know when this fascination over him started, but you assumed it had to do with the fact that he didn’t pay any attention to you. It was refreshing, but frustrating. Guys always gave you what you wanted, or made the first move. Remus, on the other hand, had only ever spoken to you in class when you’d be paired up, and he’d never made a pass at you, unlike the two friends at his right and left side who had both previously flirted with you at parties in an attempt to getting on your roster. You had laughed and thrown a snarky comment at them before amusedly walking away. But Remus Lupin and his stupid chestnut hair had caught your eye, and when you wanted something, you didn’t stop until you got it.

Remus had noticed this new attention from you in potions class - a simple doe eyed look from you when you’d asked him to get pearl dust for your potion had him doing a double take, making sure he hadn’t imagined your signature move. He’d heard boys talking, and he had to admit, even he was intrigued by you. “Mate she just gave me those eyes...” was a popular start to a sentence when he heard boys exchange stories, but now that he’d laid his eyes on them himself, he knew he was in for it.

On the way back to his dorm, he wondered if that was you making a first move, or just a subtle ask for him to make a move. He decided that he'd wait and see, make sure he hadn't been mistaken and make a fool of himself by throwing himself into something nonexistent. The more he waited, the harder it was to hold himself back. Of course, Remus prided himself on being respectful to all women and being quiet, which is what drew many of the ladies in. This meant that he tried incredibly hard to hold back the flirtatious comments and sly responses during lessons. You knew the game he was playing, because you often took the route of playing hard to get.

"You're being delusional" Sirius finally told him, James nodding from his spot beside him on Peter's bed. "Like, good for you man if there is anything there, but there isn't." James said teasingly. "No- I swear! She's flirting with me! She's flirting and I'm enjoying it! She's flirting and now I like her, and now I'm like every other guy at Hogwarts." Sirius and James exchanged a look. "Well you're not like every other guy if you actually end up with her. How many guys have you heard of who actually became her boyfriend?" He thought long and hard, and when he looked back at the other two, knew they shared the same number. "None."

The map showed that you were alone by the black lake. If he wanted to catch you in time, he'd have to hurry along. He stole a book off his bed before rushing off, haphazardly throwing his jumper somewhere into the dorm. He slowed down his pace once he made it past the main entrance, catching his breath as he began walking in your general directly. Remus didn't want to seem to obvious, so he marked the page he had left his book from with his index finger dipping between the pages. His breath hitched when he got closer to you, realising you were just in shorts and a bikini top, enjoying the spring sun, a boombox next to you playing some music.

"Any chance I could sit in the shade under that tree without looking like a total creep?" He asks, gesturing to the tree merely a couple of meters from you. Your eyes flutter open, a hand coming to your face to protect your eyes from the sun. "Mhmm, I don't think there is. But that's okay, I'm used to being admired." Remus scoffs, sitting down with his back against the tree, and opens up his book. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your body turning in his general direction, as though surprised that he's not giving you any attention. If that was the case, his mission was already succeeding. He feels the hesitation from you, glancing up at you to see you open and close your mouth, speechless. You turn onto your back once more, closing your eyes with a sigh.

You both sit there in comfortable silence, but Remus hasn't turned a single page of his book and despite you having your eyes closed, the only thing you can think of is how close he is to you. Suddenly, you sit up, turning to take a long sip of the water bottle next to you. Remus has to pretend he wasn't looking at you, but when you address him by his first name, his head immediately snaps up to meet your gaze. "Yes?" "Want to go in for a swim?" Well he wasn't expecting that. You grin when he begins to stutter; you'd finally caught him off guard for the first time since you'd started flirting with him three weeks ago. "Well, I'm- I'm not in my swimmers." You cock your head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that a problem?"

Yes, Remus wants to say. Yes, because I have scars and I'm insecure, and I don't want you to see me like that. But he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, he stands, and you follow his movements promptly. You wait for him to take at least his shirt off, but he only loosens his tie, pulling it over his head before stalking towards you predatorily. You try to take a step away from him when the proximity becomes too intimidating for you, but one of his hands snakes around your waist and your breath is hitching and he's leaning his head down close to your ear and you only hear "Hold your breath" before you're being whisked into his arms and your feet are leaving the ground.

You're suddenly gasping for air, breaking through the surface of the water, but you immediately spot Remus's grinning face, shaking his hair away from his eyes and you can't be mad. Like physically, it is impossible for you, even if your denim shorts are now all wet and you almost died. But you're swimming towards him and holding onto him with your legs wrapping around his waist and somehow you're leaning into him and pressing your lips against his. The position is weird: Remus can probably reach the ground, his hands supporting your denim-clad hips whilst your hands grip onto his wet uniform, but in some odd way, it's perfect.

The second you pull away, Remus's eyes are widening and he's muttering "Oh, no." Confused, you turn to see what he's looking at, only to spot a quickly approaching figure called the insolent Filch, already yelling about "Jumping in with Uniform!" and "Get them Mrs. Norris!"

[wendichester]

hey olivia darling!! absolutely love ur works, was just wondering what you think sam and dean's dynamic would be like with a shy and chubby reader? like what would they be like if they have a crush/have feelings (for the same girl or separately mueheueh)? i just feel like they would appreciate the (literal) softness and the shyness would be something interesting bc theyre very much not shy people lol

hope this isnt weird, its just as a chubby and shy girl myself it was a little sad to only see skinny and bold/outspoken love interests in the show, not that there's anything wrong with those women ofc, i just feel hella unrepresented lolz. would love to hear your thoughts or if you had the time or inspiration, a little drabble perhaps? no worries if not ofc, love lots 🫂❤️

hi baby! first of all, absolutely not weird at all—this is so valid and honestly? something that a lot of us think about but don’t always say out loud. you're not alone, babe. chubby & shy girls deserve epic, bone-melting, emotionally devastating supernatural romance too. period. am i shy? no. sadly i was cursed with a leo sun and moon, thus i'm loud and unsufferable BUT i am chubbs so, i gotcha. let's dive in!!

ᯓ★ sam winchester & shy, chubby reader

sam would be so down bad and it would sneak up on him. like, you walk into a room quietly, kinda head down, sweater sleeves past your wrists, and he’s instantly looking up from his laptop. not even in a “she’s hot” way (yet), but in a gentle intrigue kind of way. he’d notice how your voice gets quieter when you’re nervous. how you tug at your shirt when you think no one’s looking. he’s hyper-observant, always has been, and his brain goes “oh. she’s careful with her space. she’s not used to being looked at.” and suddenly he’s looking at you all the time. and girl, if you’re chubby? sam canonically does not care about conventionally skinny ideals. in fact, i think he’d love the way softness feels—like, deep comfort vibes. he’s been through so much loss and hard edges and trauma, so the way you feel warm and real and huggable would be like some kind of miracle to him. like he can finally breathe. also? he’d be so nervous to make you uncomfortable. he’d get really self-aware about his height and voice, like “am i too loud? did i scare her? should i back off?” total respectful green flag behavior. he’d wait for you to make the first move—except you won’t, because you’re shy, and he’ll spiral about that too 😭 expect lingering glances, asking if you’ve eaten, doing little things like fixing your laptop cord so you don’t trip. oh—and books. he’d 100% lend you books and leave little notes inside the pages like “this part reminded me of you.” he’s a slow burn, but the second you trust him enough to take his hand first? he’s yours. entirely.

ᯓ★ dean winchester & shy, chubby reader

now dean?? oh girl. he would be unwell. he’s not used to quiet girls throwing him off his game. normally he flirts, gets flirted with, rinse and repeat. but you? you look away when he smirks at you. you blush when he compliments your outfit. you can’t even look at him when he walks in shirtless (which he 100% starts doing more often just to see you turn pink). and it kills him in the best way. the chubbiness? he’s obsessed. like in a carnal, old-school, wants-to-worship-you kind of way. stretch marks? tummy squish? full thighs? he’s literally on his knees. not just because it’s hot (which it is), but because it’s yours. and because you’re shy about it, he goes extra soft with the compliments—low voice, barely-there touches, telling you, “you know you drive me crazy, right?” in a way that doesn’t feel like a joke. that makes your breath catch. dean’s the type to find what you hate about yourself and kiss it with reverence, like he’s mad that you don’t see what he sees. he’d call you “sweetheart” so often it becomes dangerous. he’d tease you, but it’d never be mocking. more like... coaxing. “what’s got you so quiet, sweetheart? me?” smirk. cheeky wink. a little too close. he’s a tease through and through, but he checks himself fast if he sees you retreat. he’d never push too far—he knows what fear looks like. but he’s also a touch-starved little mess, so the first time you lean on him, even for a second? done. he’d go all in. call you “his girl” to cas and sam. get jealous when you talk to other hunters. become your personal bodyguard. the minute he knows you're his safe place, he becomes yours, fully.

final thought, from my whole heart: you don’t need to be loud or skinny or “main character energy” to be worthy of romance. you are already worthy. your softness isn’t a flaw—it’s exactly the thing someone like sam or dean would crave after years of war and grief and sharp edges. don’t ever think you’re too quiet or too much. you’re not invisible. you’re the whole damn story, babe ♡

[doritochoi]

Office punishment| C.S

pairing: fem!reader x boss!choi san

genre: pure smut, 18+

warnings: explicit sexual content, public sex, rough sex, oral sex, eating cum, dominant language + much more

The day starts in total panic. Your phone's alarm had been ringing for a long time, but you only now manage to open your eyes. In a quick leap, you get out of bed and head for the bathroom. Your mind wanders to the important meeting at 8 o'clock and the inevitable reaction of your boss, Choi San.

Choi San, the young billionaire, was a true magnet for all the women in town, including you. But even though you've always admitted that you find him charming, you've tried to keep a professional distance. His piercing eyes and protruding jaw often appeared in your thoughts, but you tried not to let these fantasies affect your work. You quickly put on the first outfit you can get your hands on: a shirt and a skirt, both slightly wrinkled. "I don't have time to iron anymore," you say to yourself, glancing desperately at the clock. You rush to grab a coffee, but in your haste you spill some on the kitchen counter, but you don't have time to clean up right now. You call a taxi and wait impatiently in front of the block, kneading your fingers. “I hope I make it in time, I hope he's not too upset,” you think as the taxi finally arrives. You quickly get in and tell the driver the address of the company, begging him to hurry. On the way, you check your phone and see that you have some unread messages. One is from your friend, thanking you for coming to her party last night. The others are from your colleagues, who inform you that Choi San has already arrived at the office and does not seem in a good mood.

Arriving at the company, you took a deep breath, trying to regain your confidence. You entered the doors of the building with your head held high, even though you knew you were late. All the employees were looking at you with curiosity mixed with a hint of reproach. As you walked down the hall, you wondered why everyone was acting strange. It was clear there was more than just you being late. You made your way to the office to talk with Jongho, Choi San's efficient and always knowledgeable secretary. You leaned into him slightly, trying to look calm. "Jongho, do you know what's going on? Why is everyone so tense?" you asked him, trying to keep your voice calm. Jongho looked at you with a serious expression, stopping from typing on the computer. "It's about the morning meeting," he said quietly. "It didn't go well and Mr. Choi very upset. - "The meeting? I'm late, but… I didn't think it would be this bad..," you said, feeling your stomach tighten. "Yes, you're late, but that's not the only problem. Mistakes were made in the presentation and the customers were not happy at all. Mr. Choi was counting on you to correct some mistakes, and the fact that you weren't there made it worse, Jongho explained, looking into your eyes. "I didn't know it was so important..."

You walked away from Jongho with fear mixed with determination. You knew San could take drastic measures – either fire you or do something even worse. But you were determined to take responsibility and apologize. You entered the elevator and pressed the button for the floor where San's office was, feeling the tension rise with each floor the elevator went up. When you arrived at his door, you smelled the sweet and inviting smell of vanilla, his signature scent that always reminded you of his charming presence. You felt your hands sweat and your heart began to pound in your chest. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Come in," he says, his voice deep and commanding. You take a deep breath and push open the door, your eyes immediately drawn to his handsome face. He's dressed in a suit, looking every inch the successful businessman, with an aura of authority that fills the room. "You're late," he says, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if he's peering into your very soul. You can feel your body trembling as you muster the courage to apologize, your voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I'll make sure it won't happen again," you say, your eyes fixed on the ground, too ashamed to meet his piercing stare. "Look at me when you speak," he commands, his voice softening but still carrying an edge of authority. You raise your eyes to meet his, and you can feel your body responding to his gaze. His eyes, dark and captivating, hold a mixture of disappointment and something else that makes your heart race. He stands up from behind his desk, slowly making his way towards you. The scent of his cologne, a tantalizing blend of vanilla and sandalwood, becomes more pronounced, wrapping around you like an invisible embrace. You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing. "You know how important this meeting was," he continues, his voice low and almost gentle now, but with a hint of flirtation that sends shivers down your spine. As he speaks, his hands come to rest on your small waist, his touch both comforting and electrifying. He gently caresses your sides before his fingers move to adjust your skirt, smoothing it out. He glances down and notices the wrinkles, a playful smirk appearing on his lips. "You really should take better care of your appearance," he says, his tone teasing as his eyes meet yours again. "A wrinkled skirt doesn't quite match the professional image we're aiming for, don't you think?". The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. San's eyes remained locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. You could feel the heat rising between the two of you, the air charged with an electric current that made your skin tingle. His hands, still resting on your waist, gripped you a little tighter as he leaned in closer. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating that made your knees weak. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "You know, I've been very patient with you." Your pulse quickened at the low, seductive tone of his voice. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder by the second with him standing so close. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and dangerous, filled with something that sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry isn't enough," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You need to prove to me that you understand the gravity of your mistakes."

Before you could respond, he moved suddenly, pinning you against the wall with a force that took your breath away. His leg slid between yours, his knee pressing against your core in a way that made you gasp. The hard length of his arousal was unmistakable as it brushed against you through the fabric of his pants, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. "Do you think this is a joke to me?" he asked, his tone dripping with dominance as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a smirk. His hands slid down to the hem of your skirt, and with one swift movement, he hiked it up, exposing your thighs to the cool air of the office. You could barely think, barely breathe as his fingers trailed over your skin, teasingly light as they made their way to the curve of your ass. He cupped it, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I think you need a little reminder of who's in control here." Your body responded to his touch with a mind of its own, your hips pushing forward instinctively as his knee pressed harder against you. The pressure was maddening, driving you to the edge of sanity. You felt his fingers trail down the curve of your ass, his hand slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. The rough, teasing graze of his fingertips against your sensitive skin made you shudder. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured against your neck, his voice thick with lust as he began to caress you more firmly. You couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on you tighten in response. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your parted lips. The satisfaction in his expression was clear as he watched your reaction. Slowly, deliberately, he began to unbuckle his belt, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a thrill of anticipation through you. Your hands, trembling slightly, moved to help him, undoing the buckle and sliding the belt free. You glanced up at him, your breath catching as you saw the hunger in his eyes. You pulled down his zipper, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you exposed him fully. His erection was already glistening with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight. You knelt in front of him, your hands wrapping around his length as you looked up at him, seeing the way his eyes darkened with desire. He watched you intently as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the saltiness of his arousal. The groan that escaped his lips was deep and primal, and it spurred you on, your movements becoming more confident, more eager. You felt him throb in your mouth, and his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you moved up and down his length, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him deeper. His breathing became ragged, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought to maintain control. But it wasn't long before you felt the first pulse, his release spilling into your mouth as he groaned your name. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him, but a bit of it dribbled from the corner of your lips.

He wasn't done with you yet. In a swift motion, he pulled you to your feet, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he kissed you hard, his lips claiming yours. You could taste the remnants of his release on your lips as he kissed you, the intensity of it making your head spin. San moved with purpose, carrying you to his desk and bending you over it, your skirt still hiked up around your waist. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. He teased you for a moment, rubbing slow circles that made you moan softly, your body arching in response. "You're soaked," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I bet you've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?" You couldn't find the words to respond, too lost in the sensation of his fingers playing with you, teasing you mercilessly. He pulled his hand away suddenly, and you whimpered at the loss, but the sound turned into a gasp as you felt him position himself at your entrance. He didn't hesitate, driving into you with a force that made you cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he began to move, his thrusts hard and deep. The pleasure was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with sensation as he took you, his pace relentless. You could hear the sounds of your bodies colliding, the slickness of your arousal, the heavy breathing and moans that filled the room. The thought of your coworkers hearing you, knowing exactly what was happening behind the closed doors of his office, only heightened the intensity. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a climax that you coudn't hold back. San's hand round its way between your legs again, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body trembling as you cried out, the pleasure too intense to contain. He followed you over moments later, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his release filling you as he groaned your name, the sound of it echoing in your ears as you both collapsed onto the desk, exhausted and satisfied. The room was filled with the scent of sex and the lingering sweetness of his cologne. You lay there, your body still trembling, your mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. San's hand trailed lazily up your back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “Don’t think you’ve escaped so easily", he murmured, his voice soft and teasing. "But I think we can discuss your punishment later." You couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering soreness in your body. You knew you were in for a lot more than just a warning, and the thought of it sent a delicious thrill through you. As you gathered yourself, smoothing down your skirt and trying to regain some semblance of professionalism, San stepped back, watching you with that same smirk on his lips. He looked every bit the dominant, powerful man you had fantasized about, and now that fantasy had become your reality. And as you walked out of his office, your legs still shaking slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder just how far he would take this game of dominance and submission. One thing was certain: the office was about to become a much more interesting place.

[nyoomfruits]

i don't know if you still want kiss prompts but on the off chance... a possessive kiss to stake your claim with maxcar? or the oscar polycule... though if it is the polycule ideally them staking a claim against some else, not each other. they could all stake a claim on oscar. if they felt particularly unhinged.

possesive kiss to stake a claim, maxcar

“Doesn’t it piss you off?”Max had asked, as they had been making their way through the paddock. Max in his Red Bull gear, Oscar in the neatest t-shirt he could find in his closet. It was white and potentially Max’s. “They don’t even ask, they just assume.”

Oscar had shrugged. “Let them. We know, right? Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

But it must’ve been niggling away at Max. Must’ve been bothering him. They’ve talked about it before, about being out. Max had never hidden away the fact he liked both men and women and Oscar was, well. No on really cared about an accountant from Australia, did they? But neither of them really wanted to make spectacle out of it, so they’d decided to just stop hiding it.

Oscar comes along to races now. Sits in the Red Bull garage, watches the race, bites his nails down to the quick, gets branded as ‘Max Verstappen’s friend’ on the official F1TV broadcast. Max went with him to the office’s Christmas party last year, but none of Oscar’s coworkers watch F1 so they just complimented him on ‘picking such a nice guy’ and that was that.

Oscar doesn’t mind it that much. He gets to have Max, he gets to have them and that’s what matters most to him. But it’s been bothering Max lately, he can tell. When they were at that after party and Oscar had to very politely tell a girl he wasn’t interested and Max had glared daggers into her back for the rest of the night. When they’d been talking about WAG’s during a press conference and Max had proudly talked about how much he loved having Oscar at races and someone had said ‘Well but that’s not the same, is it?’.

So really, he should see it coming. Max never really does thing half assed. But as always, he gets swept up in the thrill of it, the excitement. The cars on track, watching Max nail an overtake, cheering him all the way to the finish line.

He never gets used to it, watching Max slot into that P1 slot at the end of the race, no matter how often it happens. He thought he would get used to it, the rush of emotions, of love, of pride, of happiness, but it makes him want to explode every time.

Oscar stands at the barriers, next to the cheering mechanics, keeps to the side. Max will come over to hug him when he’s ready.

But Max. Max has other plans. He jumps into the arms of his mechanics of course, like he always does, but when they put him back down, he rips off his helmet, tosses it to one of the mechanics, and grabs Oscar’s face in both hands, kissing him full on the mouth.

Oscar lets out a surprised little gasp, cheeks heating up when he realizes the implications of what’s happening.

But it’s Max. So he melts into it after his initial surprise, leans into a kiss that’s mostly smiles and teeth clanking together and pure happiness and can’t help but grin widely when Max finally pulls away.

“Now they all know,” Max says, with a cheeky grin and a shrug, and then he saunters off to his interview, leaving a stunned, screaming crowd behind.

And Oscar. Oscar loves him so much. Loves his recklessness and his possessiveness and the way he doesn’t seem to give a fuck and the way he loves. Oscar still doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, and he never will. But now they all know. Max is his. This wonderful, beautiful, ridiculously stubborn reckless guy is his and no one is going to take that away from him.

[authorhjk1]

Hi! Hope you can make something spectacular of Joy in this pls. The kind to easily suck her nonstop iykwim. 🥵

Blue

(Joy X Male Reader)

"You taste delicious."

You mumble into Joy's pussy, before taking a deep breath.

"I-Oh!"

Joy's words are cut off, when you resume eating her out.

After Seulgi gave in to the temptation, you were sure the rest of them would as well. And you weren't surprised at all, when it was Joy who took your hand and let you out of the girls' dressing room.

In this very moment, Irene is doing her job as a host for one of the music shows, while you are devouring her bandmate's sweet pussy.

Just like Seulgi, Joy doesn't have a clue that Irene is in on this as well. She thinks you are cheating on her leader.

You are still surprised that both women are completely fine with fucking a taken man. Even if it's one of their best friend's boyfriend. Although, you do remember that Joy and Irene had an argument this morning. You don't know what it was about. But this might be the reason, why Joy is doing is. Or at least one of the reasons.

"Oh, fuck. Your tongue."

Joy whines as she feels your tongue pressing on her clit.

"H-How isn't unnie constantly sitting on your face?"

Her lewd question makes you smile into her pussy as you keep eating her out.

While Irene does like to be fucked in front of the others, receiving oral is something she deems too intimate for the girls to see. It doesn't make sense to you, since she would happily suck you off in the living room, while they watch TV.

"Fuck! I'm gonna-!"

Joy's body trembles, her legs close around your head.

"Oh god!"

Her loud cry makes you wonder, if Irene can her hear. The two of you aren't that far away from the stage.

Joy cums on your face as you lap up her juices. She tastes similar to Seulgi, but sweeter.

As you reappear from underneath her dress, you see Joy's face after a while. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes darker than usual.

"I wanna suck your dick."

She bites her lip, once she says those words. She can't help but get turned on even more at the thought of stealing Irene's boyfriend.

You push Joy to her knees in return, while you stand up. Your pants follow her to the floor a moment later.

"I can finally appreciate it, without her being in the way."

Joy's eyes glisten with, well... joy.

She quickly wraps her lips around your cock and starts sucking. She knows the two of you don't have much time left. The other girls will be looking for her soon and Irene is almost done too.

"Damn, baby."

Your moan makes Joy put in even more effort. The fact that you called her that, instead of Irene, almost makes her ruin the floor she is kneeling on.

"That's a good girl."

You sigh, holding her hair back, while you watch Joy in action.

Eventually, you do want more though. After a couple of moments, you slowly push her head off your cock.

"I want to fuck you."

Joy smiles up at you. She lets your dick fall out of her mouth, before gathering her saliva and spitting on it.

"How do you want me?"

She coats your cock in her saliva with her hands as she asks.

"Just try to be quiet."

You reply, knowing that she probably won't be able to.

After helping Joy off her knees, you lead her towards the couch and make her sit on it. The dressing room is right to Red Velvet's, where the other girls are, so you do hope she is not gonna be too loud. Instead of just fucking her on her back, you hook your arms underneath Joy's legs and fold her in half. Her knees are now pressed against her chest and her pussy reveals itself as the hem of her blue dress rides up.

"I'm gonna breed you now."

"Oh fuck, yes."

Joy gasps as she hears your words. You align yourself with her pussy and then you push inside of her.

"Dump all of that cum in me, baby. I want everything that's meant for her."

You have to laugh internally. Irene was right. Joy has a breeding kink. You don't know how she knows, but you appreciate her telling you.

"I'm gonna give you all of it. Your pussy will drip with my cum, while you talk to her."

Joy's eyes roll back as you start fucking her into the couch. The position she is in makes her look smaller than she actually is. And easier to handle. You use Joy's pussy like a fleshlight as you have your way with her. The only thing she can do is moan and whine. She can't move.

"Pound my pussy, yes!"

You want to quiet her, by leaning over and kissing her, but you know you wouldn't be able to keep up this pace at the same time.

"Oh god!"

Joy moans and moans as you fuck her. Harder and harder. Deeper and deeper. It's the perfect angle for your cock to penetrate her fully.

Joy's slick pussy is harder to resist than you thought. Soon, her juices make it too easy to slide inside of her. Her walls squeeze you too tight. Her eyes beg too much. Her moans are too loud. Her thighs feel too good in your hands.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fill me up! Dump your load into your girlfriend's friend!"

You would laugh at her for not knowing what's actually going on, if she wouldn't be making you cum right now.

"Fuck Joy."

You hiss into her face as you shoot your load into her. Rope after rope of your cum paint her insides. You fill her to the brim with your seed.

"Yes, baby."

Joy sighs, the warmth of your cum overwhelming her.

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. itto x fem reader already burdened by your small chest, a rumor you happen to overhear makes you reluctantly ask your dear older brother for a helping hand.

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. reader has smaller breasts. tit sucking + minor worship ﾉ wc ꒱ 2k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ I wanted to write a haithy and wrio version as well but da wordz were not coming. can’t believe im writing for dis silly oni omg . . but enjoy pls <3

“don't be so crude, you idiot.”

it doesn’t take much to discern the confusion from his expression. itto had a range of maybe three emotions.

other than his overwhelming display of pride and exuberance, there’s always room for his dumbfoundedness. he’s frequently addled— his face constantly knitted together while his mind searches endlessly to find the answer, at least the one he thinks you want to hear, but he never really does.

“what ? you said you wanted me to help, right ?” he shrugs.

you narrow your eyes.

“I know what I said but you didn’t have to word it like . . . like that .”

like some animal, you want to say but instead you look at your brother in distaste.

too many times you find yourself struggling to accept the gap in your relationship. most people often make the wrong assumption of you being the older sibling and you have to begrudgingly correct them that no, you are in fact the younger and smarter sibling.

why couldn’t he tell that you’re already embarrassed enough as it is ? why do you have to spell it out and add to the duration of your suffering. by now, your cheeks are practically inflamed.

“how else do I ask ? oh , should I add the please ?” he pauses.

“show me your tits, please.”

he offers you a dopey smile of triumph. he’s proud of himself, thinking for once he’s finally appeased you, but he couldn’t be more wrong. so so wrong.

you’re aggressive with your sigh.

you were too smart to ask him of all people. you’re way too intelligent to believe in silly rumors and baseless gossip, but they tangle in the mire of your thoughts.

“if someone sucks on your breasts, they’ll grow !”

���huh ? no way. where did you hear that ?”

it was two women in passing, just talking and having a laugh and yet you can’t stop yourself from just wondering.

you’re not blessed like your brother. the oni towers over you, well over six feet. a mantle of bulging arms, broad shoulders, and thick thighs. he’s as big and intimidating as it gets but that aura quickly dispels every time he opens his mouth.

you on the other hand are thicker in other places, your chest, however . . . not so much.

you look down pathetically and think about all the colored tube tops that just didn’t fit you quite right.

what did you have to lose ? you’re pride maybe. you’re just as prideful as your brother, maybe even more, but the soft slopes of fat poking through your shirt mock you. they remind you that maybe you can afford to throw your ego away. temporarily.

you whine as your patience wears you thin.

murmuring a quick prayer to archons to have them spare you from further embarrassment, you bury your doubts in the back of your mind.

“I hate you.”

you lift your shirt quickly, just ripping the bandaid off.

you expose your breasts to the cool air and to surprised vermillion hues.

the longer he stared, the more you wanted to hide. of all the array of emotions you’ve seen, ( three ) you can’t pinpoint this exact one. it’s new to you. it borders on unbridled warmth, but then after a few seconds of your nipples perking from his gaze, it dithers. . . and then he fucking squints.

“so small.”

there’s a beat of silence and it takes that brief moment to even register that you did not mishear him. you’re not sure what you expected.

itto certainly isn’t the brightest and his emotional intelligence is nearly non-existent, and still, you’re taken aback by his talent to be consistently unaware.

you feel awkward and vulnerable in the middle of the room. you bared yourself to him, your insecurity right to his face, and the only thing he could do was confirm that you are indeed a small-chested oni. it shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

you liked to think you could handle the truth just as much as you bluntly dished it out, but this time you couldn’t.

a flash of white-hot anger runs through you at his audacity. you yank your shirt down eager to hide in your room and cry about your humiliation. you’ll write his name in big stupid letters in your fuzzy-covered journal and call him a big fat meanie. i for idiot, t for trashy , t for terrible, and a big fat o for obtuse.

“asshole !” you scream.

you can tell he’s surprised by your outcry. you glare at him hoping that he would turn to ashes on the spot, but unfortunately, he doesn’t.

he’s too busy panicking. he’s struck with the startling realization that he’s messed up again and that you were pissed.

so many times you’ve stomped your pink heels in anger and strutted away, mini skirt riding up with every step you took. and each time he reacts the same.

he tries to fix it.

he’s quick to react, immediately reaching for you in urgency. “w-wait wait wait wait ! where ya’ going ?”

“ oh, don’t you dare touch me you, oaf ! you think I don’t know that they’re small already ? why would you say that ?! “ you pull away more than desperate to increase the distance from him.

“hey hey hey. calm down, baby sis. m’not making fun of you.”

it takes his hands resting on your shoulders and the worried look in his eyes to make you come to a stop.

you lick your lips and take a shaky breath.

he’s right.

itto is many things but never a bully. he’d never say anything purposefully mean, no matter how much you bad-talked him. he’s kind and loyal but unfortunately, all the brains just happen to go to you .

“I didn’t mean to make ya feel bad,” he says sheepishly. “jus’ think they’re cute, that’s all.”

he releases his grip on you to scratch behind his head, eyes flickering to your chest again. a blush colors his face to a shade of carnations.

you’re a sweet girl with an unfiltered mouth that would bend to no one, not even to the archons themselves. and you were tearing him apart with that pout and your pretty nubs peeking through the fabric of your shirt.

he’s your big brother and he angered you quite a lot but, never deliberately. but this time he’s determined, for once he wants to ease your worries and not add to them.

he stands a bit closer brushing away a saltine tear that regretfully falls.

“If ya still want me to do it, I will. I think . . . it could work if I just do it hard enough.”

you don’t answer him but you don’t think you need to.

he searches your eyes trying to find any sign of disapproval. itto remains unsure, he’s never good at picking up on the small nuances of your emotions and so he tugs at your shirt in uncertainty.

still angry and embarrassed, you look up at his stupidly handsome face and relent.

“jus’ do it you big dummy.”

like everything else you expect him to handle you roughly. to rip your shirt and bite and suck at your nipples until they bruise under his touch, but he does the opposite.

his free hand travels around your sternum at first, surprisingly gentle. his fingers are soft when they circle around your breasts, tenderly flicking the flesh to watch them jiggle. he thumbs at your wide areolas, tracing the tiny bumps in complete fascination.

you grow uncomfortable at how intimate it felt. his eyes are blown wide, drinking up the sight of your tits rising with each shuddered breath.

“d-don’t play with them. jus’ hurry up n’ suck .” you leap at the opportunity to break the tension, but somehow you’ve made it worse.

as soon as the words leave your mouth, he responds just as fast. it nearly knocks the wind out of you when his mouth latches onto your breast.

they’re small but there’s so much flesh , so much chub that itto can’t stop playing with. his tongue laps at your left mound, licking underneath it, licking around it, and sucking at all the fat he can fit into his mouth. he’s noisy, grossly so . he groans and curses each time he has to detach his mouth from your nipple to come up for air.

“pretty tits taste s’good, “ he slurs. he can’t form the words, not when he’s desperate to fondle your breasts with his slippery tongue.

itto squeezes you so tight, it nearly hurts but you couldn’t dare tell him to ease up. there’s something hard rubbing on your lower stomach and you're scared to even dare to think about what it could be.

he slowly drags his rough flesh up and down your mound, shivering when your nipple grazes his appendage. his fingers grope at your waist and hips, palms nearly enclosing your smaller figure.

“f-fuck , you’re tiny. m’not hurting you, am I ?”

you don’t trust yourself to speak, terrified a moan would spill instead, so you shake your head.

he’s over two feet taller than you, pressing you into a corner and he has to remind himself that you’re his little sister. his dainty, spit-fire little sister who’s tits he’s currently mouthing on to rid her of her troubles.

he’d suck long and hard hoping your already perfect tits would someday be perfect to you. he wants to make you proud and show you he’s not just some rowdy oni. he’ll kiss and suck as long as you needed him to.

he tucks your nipple back into his mouth, puckering around the flesh like a sour candy.

you’re as pillowy and as delicate as he remembers. he almost forgot how he sinks into you. how his firm stomach settles into your soft one and he’s painfully reminded that his erect cock has been slowly rutting against you.

sucking your tits was riling him up. it was making him act in that brutish way that you hated, but he was trying so hard to keep from lining his cock with your opening and milking your cunt dry.

the oni has to pull away to gather himself. he takes the time to marvel at his work.

your right bosom is drenched in spit, puffy and swollen from his ministrations. he smiles.

“It looks bigger already, don’t ya think ?“

“shut it !”

another insult dies in your mouth as you're still catching your breath. an oni’s nose is extremely sensitive and you wonder if he could smell the arousal fermenting between your thighs.

“let me do the other one okay, baby. don’t want them to be uneven right ?”

“w-wait itto maybe we should s— eek !”

you need another moment of reprieve but you don’t get the chance. he puts the other tit in his mouth, tongue greedily flicking against the nub which tears a squeal from your lips.

itto is confident his methods will work just as sure as he’s about to blow a load in his pants.

“gonna suck your tits until they fatten up. isn’t that right, little one ?”

you mewl at the pleasure and the softness of which he utters a name he hasn’t called you in years.

“s-stop talking so much ! just be quiet and and —hnnn— stop teasin’ !”

he continues his assault on your chest, cock chubbing against his pants.

“m’sorry,” he slurs. “can’t help it.” his groans are fanning against your chest while he drools on your sensitive peaks. “let nii-nii take care of you . . just relax f’me. . . just take it.”

he’s hard. cums crowns his tip as he keeps conjuring up thoughts of wiping his cock over your tits, rubbing the head around your puffy brown nipple.

you smell good, you taste better and itto for once doesn’t care if you think he’s gross. he wants to milk your tits and suck until they become sweet little prunes , just so he can make it better.

your panties grow sticky as his sucks grow rougher. even if your breasts didn’t jump up a cup size you think that maybe this was worth it. to have him close, to have him drool and worship your tits and feel his cock straining against you.

his eyes closed, still nursing on your teat sweetly. your hand buries itself in his thick mane that draped over his shoulder smelling faintly of your shampoo.

it silently encourages him to keep going, leading to both of your undoings. the hand running through his hair tugs on his roots but then suddenly stills.

you see a brief flash of something and you gasp.

“itto why on earth is your dick out ?”

“can I put just the tip in ? please?”

[starm0onlight]

Drowned by love 🥀

˚⊱ chapter two ⊰˚

₊˚⊹ ᰔ pairing: greek gods x fem reader

₊˚⊹ ᰔ note: this will be my last post before i take few days break for my exams, dw most of request are done!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warning: none

₊˚⊹ ᰔ content: meeting new characters! (they're oc but dw they're only there for fun), jewelries, idk it's the start

🏺- you slowly start getting conscious and after a while you slowly start opening your eyes but you felt different, nothing in you feel the same.

🪽- as your eyes finally get used to the room light you start looking around as you realized your situation.

🪡- you were in a room, a big one. that's weird you don't remember this place? matter of fact you don't remember anything, and is that bed you're laying on?

🪶- as you look around you notice yourself laying on a bed with soft sheets covering you completely, you start to get worried now.

🏺- as you slowly start sitting up you quickly held your head as sharp pain hit you so suddenly.

🪽- "aw my head.. w-where am i?" you say as you slowly start looking more around the room, but suddenly you notice yourself.

🪡- you weren't in your clothes anymore but rather in chiton, huh? you don't remember wearing that.

🪶- suddenly you remember everything, how you wake up in no where and then the palace and the people you met there and then you pass out-

🏺- wait... does that mean, you're in the palace you saw? then you remember the whole gods thing, that's can't be, no no no...

🪽- as you quickly take the sheets off of you so you can start actually seeing where you are, you notice that all of your wounds that you get from wondering in the forest has gone. they're not healed, they're gone.

🪡- you don't know what's happening but you need to get out of here now. if what you think is true then you should leave as soon as possible.

🪶- but as you stand up to finally leave suddenly the bedroom door open as some women enter by it. three to be exact

"my lady you're finally awake." says one of softly as she slowly approaches you, she was blonde with the greenest eyes you have ever seen.

"who are you... and what do you want.." you said as you start backing away but couldn't go any further since the bed was right behind you.

"don't worry my lady we are here to help you get ready" said the other woman standing behind the blonde one. she has dark skin and was a little chubby with long brown hair and blue eyes.

"yes my lady, we're here to take care of you, this is an order from the gods" said the third one, this one was different, she was tall and her hair was blue-ish in color and had amber eyes. as you saw her putting down some jewelry on the table beside the giant mirror that you didn't realize exist.

"im aglaea" said the blonde one as introduce herself. "and this is Rhea" is pointed at the chubby girl. "and this is phebe" she pointed at the tallest one. "and we're here to assist you and take care of you"

"i don't need anyone to take care of me.. i need to leave this place right now.." you as you try to move but felt like you were stuck at your place.

"we're sorry you feel like this my lady, but please just don't make it hard for yourself, and no one will get hurt" said aglaea as her words scare you for a second, what does she mean no one will get hurt?

before you could question more she quickly held your shoulders and started guiding you into a seat in front of the table and mirror, you found yourself going along and not resisting.

as you set down they quickly start working on dressing you up in the finest jewelries you have ever laid eyes on.

from necklaces to golden chains around your dress till Anklets on your feet, you were stunned at the amount of jewelry and gold you have wrapped around you. and as a final touch one of them put vail on your head to hide a little of your face and match the dress.

"you look absolutely stunning my lady!" said Rhea as she looks at you as if she admiring you. and the two other nods in agreement.

"we never saw a mortal so beautiful before my lady!" said Phebe as nods softly at you. even if the whole situation is weird you felt kinda flatter by their complement.

"are you goddesses too?" you finally said as you look at them, they look at each other first before start chuckling softly.

"no my lady we're not but we appreciate your flattery" said aglaea as she started fixing a little of your jewelries.

"we're just nymphs serving on olympus" said Rhea as she helped you stand on your feet, you would lie if you said you didn't feel a little heavy.

"now i think it's time, we wouldn't want to keep the gods waiting, my lady." said Phebe as she opened the door for you.

from what you can tell about them that's Rhea was the joyful one she looked more energetic than the others, phebe is quite one, you notice that she doesn't talk as much as the others. and aglaea was the responsible one. she look like she's know what she's doing and she can be trustful.

before you can say anything else you suddenly felt like you're being pushed outside the room.

"come on let's not waste any time" said rhea as she pushed out of the room and two followed behind.

this is going to be a long ride..

[nightunite]

r.e. with johnny banging one of his maids

what's the breaking point or final straw that makes the maid finally snap and make the decision to leave soap? or, maybe even the point just before the decision is made?

-- 📖

Omg my first anon who signs their name! Welcome! Enjoy this angsty piece! Following the revelation that she is not the only one Johnny sees in the duchy, she does her best to limit her time with him. The thought of him touching her makes her skin crawl, makes her stomach curdle over the memory of him holding the other maid so tightly to him (the way he held her, how many more are there-). However, she also knows she cannot avoid him entirely, cannot retreat fully as he is still her employer, a fact seared into the forefront of her mind now when it should have been when this all started. She tries not to show her discomfort when he leans into her space, as she can now smell the perfumes of other women on his skin, can see his plump mouth most likely having kissed another before coming to her. She wonders if he even bothered to wash himself between, or if the hands he touches her with are still coated in the consequences of his actions. There's no comfort in his concern over her, him spending more and more time as the days go by to coax her into telling him what's the matter, is someone bothering her? He'll make it all go away for his sweet little maid, his favorite. He winks as he says their inside joke; bile creeps up her throat at the knowledge the joke is on her and always has been. She just manages to kiss him, brushing off anything further with a variety of excuses: She isn't feeling well, there is so much she has to do, a guest is due shortly. She even uses the tried and true 'I am unclean' excuse, face flushed as she looks down, desperate for him to believe it even though the stress of the situation she has found herself in has put it off for the forseeable future. Every time she feels her heart lurch over the sight of him, her stomach lurches as well. It's a struggle for her to keep food down, constantly envisioning the man she loves with other women. The knowledge he would have to wed someone of his station had always loomed over her, the thought of him forsaking his reputation due to being in love with her a fantasy she only indulges in when she lays down for bed. These days the thought brings more cruelty than comfort, and it's resulted in her stumbling from bed to heave up the meager portion of dinner that she manages to eat. The other staff notice how there seems to be an air of illness about her, her face paler than before, eyes red-rimmed at times, the dazed look she gets when she thinks no one is watching. The cooks especially take note of it, see how she struggles to keep food down, how she picks at her plate unless it's the blandest of soup or a portion of fruit. The head cook, a stern woman who runs the kitchen efficiently and while putting the fear of God into those who test her, has rubbed her back alongside the head maid more times than not when she hangs her head in the toilet. "I swear lass, you heave more than an expecting mother. Duke MacTavish ought to call in the doctor and have you seen to already, before you waste away!" If her eyes weren't blinded by tears, they would be wide open in horror. The vomiting, the missed days, the sleeping... All caused by stress yes but... Is there anything more stressful than carrying a new life inside of you? Particularly one born of such circumstances? Her breathing picks up, the last of the bile coughed out while her mind races, the thought growing more and more sure as she thinks back to the days when she and Johnny had gone further than they ever should have. The best case scenario is people assuming she is a loose woman; a random unnamed man being the father and her child being a bastard. The possibility to spin it as her being taken advantage of by a man who was passing through town is there, not likely to work but still an option. The worst case though? The scandal of bearing a Duke's bastard, of having lain in her employer's bed? All of them would be ruined.

The head maid sends her to bed to ensure she doesn't get anyone else sick with whatever she has. She lays in her bed, hand shakily pressed over her stomach, watery eyes fixed on the ceiling while she bites her lip to keep from sobbing. She has to get out, even if there is no child inside her. Things have crossed a line and she's clawing at it to let her back on the other side. This was doomed from the start, and this needs to end before this becomes a choice she can't take back. There has been recent gossip of the Baron of the woods returning, of him needing new staff due to several of his retiring from age. No connections to Duke MacTavish, a place out of the eyes of society, a man who does not partake in the prodding of other's status. It appears she will need to find a way to visit the Baron's home discretely. Soon.

[sex-storytime]

My Boyfriend

I love my boyfriend. I know that is kind of a strange thing to say, or at least it should be an obvious thing to say. There are many different reasons why I love him, but right at the moment I love him because of his dichotomy. I love him because he is so comfortable having multiple facets to his personality. Because he is willing to take chances, and has made me more willing to take chances as well. Because together, we are more than the sum of our parts.

OK, enough of the mushy stuff. The real reason that I am feeling so much love for him right now, and more than just a bit of sexual attraction, would be the fact that he is lying in our bed, fast asleep. Now, to most women, having your man in bed asleep when you come home may not be the most erotic sight in the world. But you don't know my man. You don't know how just watching him sleep for a few minutes gets my pussy juice flowing. I can't help it. There is just something about watching him sleep; oblivious to me that is such a turn on. Maybe it is the voyeurism aspect of it?

I went out with the girls tonight. My man works two jobs right now to help pay off some debts from his past, so even though I work full time as a beat writer for the big paper here in town, I still don't see a lot of him. There are nights that I spend alone on the couch with a warm blanket and a good movie waiting for him to come home. When he does finally walk through the door, I am all sexed up from thinking about him all evening, and he is tired from working a 16-hour day. Even though he is exhausted, he is still a typical male. :) I can just mention casually as he sits down that I had been thinking about him all evening and lightly touching my pussy through my shorts as I watched the movie. Any mention of touching myself will instantly get him interested. Then after I casually mention that my pussy might still be wet, and why doesn't he check for me, well then, that is usually all it takes.

When he pulls down my shorts and sees the wet spot on the crotch of my panties, his cock will immediately get hard, and even though he may have just put in a long day at work, he is still able to give me a wonderful fucking before it is time to head to bed. Usually we don't make it off the couch, he just bends down and nibbles on my clit through my panties for a minute while he strokes his cock through his jeans. I usually have to push him away and remind him that foreplay is always appreciated, but I was wet before he walked in the door, and he just has to slide his cock inside of me for both of us to be happy. Again, being a typical man, he doesn't argue, just unzips his jeans and pulls out that wonderful meat of his. I will slide my panties off and spread my legs in invitation, waiting for that wonderful feeling of his dick inside of me. And I always get my wish. Usually he comes inside of me, which is fine for an end of the day fuck. We can save the facials and pearl necklaces for the middle of the day when I plan to get him off more than once.

So I digress. I was talking about why I love my boyfriend right at this moment. I said that I went out with the girls tonight. He had to work both jobs today, and being a Friday, I knew that he would not be home until around midnight. So I decided at the beginning of the week that I would get some of the girls together tonight so that we could go out. Everyone else in the group was fine with leaving their significant others home for the evening, so we were able to have a blast. Dressing up for each other in our best club clothes; having a wonderful dinner while teasing the poor waiter mercilessly. He must have had to go in the bathroom and jack off afterwards as much as he was looking at our tits down the top of our shirts. Then on to one of our favorite bars afterwards where we could people watch and talk in peace, which for us means lots of bitching and bragging about our mates that we left home that evening. Janice thinks her husband has an unhealthy fascination with his sister. Nancy broke up with her boyfriend last month to start dating another woman who works in the same building she does, so of course we had a ton of questions for her, the first Official Lesbian in our group. And I still don't believe Heather when she claimed that her man was 7 inches long when soft. She had about six shots at that point, so she probably would have said anything to get attention.

So now here I am back home after a night of debauchery. Nancy dropped me off because I had too much liquid fun to drive, and already offered to take me back to get my CRX in the morning. I make sure and take off my sandals before I walk into the house. They make all sorts of noise on the hardwood floors, and I don't want my man awake just yet. I am horny enough that I would love to just barge in and shove his cock down my throat, but another part of me wants to be a little subtler. I think in my inebriated state I would like that better.

His truck was in the driveway, but none of the lights were on, so I knew he had already gone to bed. He has to be back at work in the morning, so I am sure he got clean and went right to sleep. And it appears that he did just that

So I am standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking at my man asleep. I can tell that he has only been down for a little while because the bathroom still smells like bath soap. It is a warm night, so he has dispensed with the covers already, which are now lying on the floor next to the bed. A little bit of light is coming through the blinds, just enough for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and see him in all his glory. His hair is spread out on the pillow behind him, (God I love to run my fingers through that hair!) and because he is lying on his side, I can see how long it is getting. He has been trying to grow it back out for a while, and just recently has gotten long enough to pull back in a ponytail. Or long enough for me to wrap my fingers in and pull his head down when I am desperate for a kiss or three.

But the part of the picture that is the most intriguing for me is what he is wearing. Normally he sleeps in the nude, but tonight it looks like a different story. He is wearing a pair of nylon bikini panties that I bought for him about a month ago. That is the reason that I haven't gone any further into the bedroom. I am just looking at his hip and his ass packed into a pair of panties that I bought for him. Now, before you go jumping to conclusions, this was not my particular fetish to begin with. A few months after we started dating, he started acting really weird one night, and then finally reached under his bed and pulled out a box full of panties. I am not the snooping type, so I never had any idea that it was there. Apparently it was a serious fetish for him, which would explain the six different pairs of panties that he had bought me already at that point. Not only did he like seeing me in panties, but he also liked to wear panties on occasion under his regular clothes. Not in a cross-dresser sense, since he is way too big to be a convincing woman (6'3'', 240 muscular pounds.) More of like a hetero guy sense who thought that if panties could be pretty on women, they could also be pretty on him.

I keep getting distracted. So I am standing in the doorway of the bedroom looking at my man asleep on the bed wearing a pair of white nylon bikinis that I bought him. I also bought myself a matching pair at the same time, and surprised him one evening with both pairs of them. He definitely showed his appreciation that night! So over time, our games have evolved to the point where if I discover him in a pair of panties it usually means that he wants to be strapped. Which kind of surprises me right now. It also excites the hell out of me, but surprises at the same time. My brain is turning over a million times a second thinking about this, but my pussy is only telling me one thing. I was horny before I even left the house, and now I am almost desperate to get off. But why would he want me to take him up the ass when he is exhausted?

Who cares? The thought of going into our toy box, pulling out one of my dildos, and strapping it on to use on him is just killing me. I can feel my nipples getting harder by the second, so I place my sandals down on the dresser in order to use both hands on my tits. I pull my shirt up and pinch my nipples through my bra while I think of lubing up my fingers and sliding them one at a time into his ass. The alcohol is making my head spin a little bit, but I know that finger fucking his ass in preparation for my cock is a major turn on for both of us. I love to hear him moan when I slide that first finger into his ass. It makes my pussy clench every time we do it. Which isn't a whole lot of times, which makes the idea even more exciting now.

I can feel my panties begin to stick to my pussy, so I have to take the time to undo my jeans and pull them down to my knees. It strikes me as I ironic that I am wearing a cotton string bikini that he bought me - we are each wearing gift panties from the other person. My fingers slide directly into my pussy. It is amazing how horny I get when I drink. I pull my other hand away from my tits and use it to flick my clit while I manipulate my hole at the same time. It is so hard to stay quiet while I am doing this, but I don't want him awake. At least not yet.

My brain turns over images of how this scenario could play out. I see myself crawling onto the bed with my strap on already in place, and just feeding that plastic cock to his mouth. I love to pinch my nipples while he is blowing my cock. Or maybe sliding onto the bed and putting the head of my cock against his asshole through the panties while I touch his cock and nibble on the back of his neck. Or maybe even crawl onto the bed and then start to use my tongue on his balls and asshole through his pretty panties. I know that he just finished with a shower, so everything down there is nice and clean, and ready for my tongue. I don't think I have ever heard him moan as gutturally as when I licked his asshole for the first time. It surprised the hell out of him, which was exactly what I wanted at the time. The only problem I see is that I love to suck his cock so much that I might not stop in time. I might start with his ass and balls, and then turn him over so that I can suck the head of his cock into my mouth through the panties. He loves for me to tease him through his panties. But eventually I would have to pull them down far enough for his cock to get out so that I could do a proper job of sucking him off. And I am not sure that I would be able to stop. I would just continue to suck him while I caressed his balls through the nylon. I would also have to turn around to that he could at least use his fingers on my pussy while his dick was in my mouth.

I don't know if I can take much more of this. My pussy is so wet; I am starting to make squishing noises with my hands. I feel like I am ready to get off any second, and my brain hasn't even gotten to the main event yet. I guess that doesn't really matter. Every time that I have fucked him up the ass, I have started coming as soon as I slid into him, and came about every 30 seconds after that until I watch his come spurt out of his cock all over both of us. I like having him on his back so that I can watch him jerk his cock off while I slam into his ass. The look on his face when he is just about ready to go over the edge is priceless. I can feel his ass squeeze my cock harder, his whole body tenses, and then everything goes supernova. Watching him come always gets me off. Always. It's a good thing that we only do this every once in a while. If I asked him to let me fuck him up the ass every day, I think he would be worn out and worthless in a month. It is wonderful to come that hard every once in a while, but every day would kill him.

I can't take this any more. I have to get off. Even though I am slumped against the doorframe with my breasts and pussy in full view frigging myself, he is still fast asleep. Which is the way that I want it. Even though he has extended the invitation to me by wearing those panties to bed, this has become my own private moment. This is my time to just look at him sleeping and get myself off, imagining all of the wonderful things that we do to keep our sex life interesting. My orgasm doesn't hit me like a hammer; it's more like rolling over me like a very large surf wave - all enveloping, but still feeling safe and secure. I have to stuff my shirt into my mouth in order to stifle the scream that is threatening to rip out of my body. As I quietly slump to the floor, the fire works begin to go off in front of my eyes. I guess with my concentrated effort to keep quiet and not wake him up, I was holding my breath. Slumped in the corner, coming down off a very satisfying orgasm, I have to remind my body to breath for a while until it begins to come naturally again.

Through my whole mental adventure just now, my boyfriend has not moved an inch. He must have been very tired, because usually he would have at least stirred when he heard me walk in. I know that he wants me to be in the mood to play - the panties he is wearing tell me so - but I think I will let him sleep tonight. I will just grab a shower to get the smoke smell out of my hair, and then join him in bed. Maybe when he wakes up in the morning and finds me wearing the same pair of panties that he is, along with the matching camisole that I bought for myself, he will forgive me for not waking him tonight. I hope.

[otp-after-dark]

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE: Bruce Miller re-read Atwood's book before season six and somehow still ended it like that?!!!!!!

I’ve read Bruce Miller’s foreword to the series finale script of The Handmaid’s Tale three times now and I still can’t wrap my head around it. This man claims to have re-read the novel — in detail — as he crafted the final episode. He invokes Margaret Atwood. He quotes his early conversations with Elisabeth Moss. He talks about wanting to follow the “tonal spirit” of the novel and do no harm. And then he turns around and delivers an ending that does exactly what the book warns us against: reducing a woman to her biological function, erasing the revolutionary power of love, and pretending that silence is some kind of feminist triumph.

I’m sorry, what book did you read?

Because I read the one where Offred says:

“But this is wrong. Nobody dies from lack of sex. It’s lack of love we die from.”

I read the one where the Commander smugly says:

“You can fulfill your biological destiny in peace.” And Offred — just like June in Season 1 — says: “Love.”

That one-word answer is the thesis of the entire story. It’s the refusal. It’s the rebellion. It’s what makes The Handmaid’s Tale not just a dystopia, but a fight to remain human inside it. Love isn’t a luxury in Atwood’s novel — it’s oxygen. It’s the one thing Gilead can’t fully regulate or control. And Offred clings to it in the only form she can have it: Nick. 

And Bruce Miller read that, and still decided to end the show with June betraying that love, not because she had to, not because it cost too much, but because now, apparently, she’s too feminist for it. Too self-actualized for desire. Too “strong” to need passion. So instead of choosing the love that saved her, the love she repeatedly chose in Gilead, she goes back to her “first home,” takes up a pen, and becomes… a mother. A recorder. A symbol. Alone. Again.

I can't with these writers.

He calls it “bittersweet.” He says he didn’t want to leave viewers asking “what happens next,” and yet… we’re not left wondering. We’re left feeling gutted. We’re left with a story that once championed autonomy and complexity and love and now says: actually, it was always about the children. Always about the womb. Always about going back to tell the tale so other women can do better while the woman who lived it is left with nothing but the role Gilead gave her in the first place.

What makes this even worse is that he clearly knows what the book says. He quotes it. He reveres it. He says it made him want to be a writer. So how do you admire something that much and still miss its entire point?

Because you can’t read “We make love each time as if we know beyond the shadow of a doubt that there will never be any more” and think love is incidental.

You can’t read “That word, made flesh” and think Nick was just a placeholder.

You can’t read “It’s lack of love we die from” and then kill the love and call it feminist.

And don’t tell me it’s to set up The Testaments. Don’t tell me the love story had to die to make room for the “real” revolution. Love was the revolution. June and Nick’s love was the only thing in Gilead that wasn’t arranged, coerced, or broken. It was the last real thing they had. And the fact that this show walked all the way up to that truth and then turned away is what makes this ending feel not just wrong, but cowardly.

Bruce Miller read The Handmaid’s Tale, and instead of writing a finale where June lives her truth, or chooses her heart, or even just acknowledges that what she had with Nick mattered. He wrote her back into the house where it all started. Alone. Reflecting. Recording. As if that is justice. As if that is enough.

It’s not.

[arguablysomaya]

Nightwing's weird fem-coding

! LONG POST !

Finally got around to jotting down my thoughts on the weird way that Dick Grayson (Nightwing) often occupies female-coded roles without being a particularly feminine guy. This is entirely due to me procrastinating on my finals. Okay!

Dick has often been cited as the hero who plays into the "female gaze", and he takes up some key roles that are typically reserved for women characters.

A large portion of Dick's fem-coding is contingent on his being with his family, and when he's not with them, this fem-coding kinda drops away, such as when he's with his various teams or acting solo.

His most prominent (and imo, complex) femme-coded role is:

-> Eldest Daughter + Widow

Eldest daughter syndrome means " frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence." It's born out of the unique way that first-born girls are expected to take on adult roles around the household before they've had an opportunity to fully experience childhood (an opportunity their younger siblings will have, in part due to this sacrifice). It creates a strong sense of independence and a desire to be a good role model, but also leads to undue pressure and perfectionism.

Dick acts as a central emotional pillar for those in his family. To the point that when he fakes his death, it breaks something fundamental in the family dynamic:

Not only is it repeatedly made clear that Bruce depends on Dick to act as a lifeline for his own mental struggles, but moreover, his siblings do as well. In a very literal sense, the maintenance of the batfamily rests on Dick's shoulders. Bruce is so rarely available for emotional support that these children turn to the next best thing, which, to be fair, is better than what Dick had growing up. He has to clean up so many breakdowns, it's honestly pretty staggering.

As the OG sidekick, Dick receives quite a bit of hero worship, particularly from younger heroes/sidekicks, who look toward him for guidance. As a naturally upbeat and welcoming person, Dick ends up in the position of bringing light to everyone, not just Bruce. For example, here's Cassandra:

This balancing effect is unique to Dick's skill set. However, this can (and does) backfire very easily. The same pragmatism Bruce engages in hurts extra bad when coming from Dick: like when Dick had to take Robin away from Tim. Not to mention just how intimidating Dick's legacy is, which can create resentment when his successors aren't able to play this role so easily. For example, Jason both before and after his death expressed insecurity that he felt he was constantly being compared to Dick, and falling short.

As the original character that people think of when they think "sidekick", DG Robin (and his successors) had the advantage of not losing prominence even as his contemporaries (Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl, etc.) were de-prioritized in favor of independent teenaged heroes (like Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire). But that means Robin as a concept now has to deal with questions that weren't so prominent in the earlier decades, such as: "How do we justify a grown-ass man using a child (and in fact, children) as emotional crutches?"

It's icky to think about, but there's no denying that early Batman and Robin got side eyes for homosexual subtext. I mean, they literally call each other "partners". So while that "subtext" was, and remains, just audience speculation, given Dick is literally Bruce's adopted son, there is room, I believe, to call into question how healthy it is for Bruce's oldest kid to be taking on a nearly-parental role and be a core pillar of Bruce's emotional regulation.

Hot take here, but I think Dick's relationship with Bruce was/has been pretty emotionally incestuous for a long time.

-> Emotional incest

"Emotional incest[...] is a type of emotional abuse performed by a parent. In cases of emotional incest, parents rely on their children for significant emotional support, which is a reversal of roles. Emotional incest is more than just relying on your kids on occasion—rather, it is an extreme dependence on them." (There's a pretty good argument to be made that Bruce has been emotionally incestuous with all his Robins, especially Dick and DEFINITELY Tim, but y'know. Small steps.)

Emotional incest is a semi-common consequence of eldest daughter syndrome; the natural conclusion of deputizing a child to manage the other children combining with an inability to see the child as a child, still in need of emotional guidance, but more like an adult capable of shouldering the burdens of grown-ups dumping their traumas on them.

To be clear here, while emotional incest may not be incest in the most traditional, taboo sense, it is still abuse. It's putting a burden on a child they shouldn't have to carry, even for children that aren't dealing with such extreme burdens as "grown-ass man running around in a fursuit needs me to keep him from getting himself killed". It's a perversion of a healthy parent-child relationship, where the child is treated more like a partner than a child. In Dick's case, it further exacerbates the parentification he already experiences. This is made more explicit when Bruce "dies" and Dick is cast into a sort of "Widow" role.

Dick reluctantly dons the cowl in an attempt to bring order to his family members. He's also left to parent Damian, alone. He has to make the decision to take Robin from Tim, and try to deal with the fallout from that decision. He has to put a stop to Jason's fratricidal rampage. He's made into the de-facto head of the family.

And the thing about this is: Dick's not even bad at it. In comparison to Bruce's litany of disasters-in-parenting, Dick does a pretty bang-up job of managing his siblings, heading the Justice League, and being Batman. But the crucial point is that he does this at the expense of his own mental health, which is the crux of eldest daughter syndrome. There's no denying that at the time, Dick was most certainly the best choice for New Father Figure, but it was a choice he was pushed into, and a sacrifice he had to make. When this sense of responsibility to the point of self-sacrifice is pushed to its logical conclusion, it has the effect of making Dick a Martyr-type figure.

-> Protector/Mama Bear/Avenger

Dick has shown repeatedly that his hot button is his family. From Tony Zucco to allowing Blockbuster to be killed after the villain targeted Haley's Circus, going after Nightwing's family is a pretty good way to earn yourself an asskicking. Probably the most infamous example of this is when Dick thought the Joker had killed Tim, beating the clown to death to avenge both Tim and Jason.

And while this role isn't particularly feminine, I do think it's interesting that Dick protects his family members from each other with almost the same frequency that he protects them from outside threats. He's pretty notorious for wrangling Damian and Tim, foiling Jason's murder plans, and most importantly, beating the shit out of Bruce whenever he crosses a line, such as when Bruce asks Dick to conceal being alive from their family to join Spyral or when Bruce wanted to abandon the Bruce Wayne persona after the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Or of course, more recently after Bruce's latest MK-ULTRA shenanigans.

This basically puts Dick in the position of being the glue that holds the family together, at basically all times, but especially in times of conflict. This also means he's put in the dangerous position of bodily defending his younger siblings from Bruce's wrath or irresponsibility, a position made even more awkward given the whole emotional incest thing.

That's not to say that Dick's relationship with his family is 100% unhealthy. Dick and his family members (including Bruce!) feel legitimate affection and care for each other. There are times when the dynamics here are indeed healthy. And like most people with eldest daughter syndrome, the unhealthy nature of this dynamic is usually understated. Oldest sibling syndrome is often just an unavoidable consequence of how parenting works. So while I am of the opinion that this dynamic is often unhealthy, hot take: I'm fine with that.

Now, though I've just listed some tropes that he only falls into around family, Dick also falls into some fem-coding all the time, regardless of who he's with, and these have to do mostly with his sexuality.

-> Sexual Assault & Harassment

Yeah, so nobody is surprised that this is a factor. Look up any list of the top ten hottest/sexiest/most attractive male superheroes, I guarantee 9/10 times Nightwing is number 1. However, unlike his father, whose attractiveness is usually played as a part of the male wish-fulfillment fantasy, something people aspire to be, Dick's attractiveness more often makes him an object of desire- very similar to how most attractive female characters are perceived.

And as an object of desire, Dick Grayson is constantly having to deal with being objectified.

Now, Dick Grayson being an attractive character is not the problem. Dick Grayson being sexually assaulted isn't even the problem. the problem is that he keeps being harassed, assaulted, and raped in ways that are flagrantly nonconsensual, and yet it's not treated with the seriousness it deserves. In fact, it took a full decade for Devin Grayson to retract her previous statement and admit that yes, the rooftop scene with Catalina Flores was in fact rape, and it's never been acknowledged in-universe (though, comics have always been atrocious at calling out sexual abuse of all kinds, let alone that which targets men).

Hell, even when he in-universe calls it out, he's dismissed immediately and the story continues like nothing happened.

Like???

Dick's adult sexcapades (which were consensual and enthusiastic) have long contrasted with the numerous times he's been harassed; times in which he comes across as bored, exasperated, and even frustrated with his own attractiveness and the vulnerable position it often leaves him in.

This puts him in the rare (in comics) position of being a male character who consistently and near-exclusively has his sexual agency and boundaries violated by women - a position that authors uniformly refuse to examine despite writing him into it all the fucking time.

Other characters around him frequently make comments passing off this harassment and assault as a natural consequence of Dick's own attractiveness, making "jokes" that essentially amount to "I understand why someone would want to assault him". Which- UH?

There is also, of course, the unavoidable reality that as an acrobat and an aerialist, he receives a very specific type of sexual harassment

the nature of nightwing's fight style necessitates a type of tight-fitting suit that male heroes typically don't go for: an extremely slick suit with bare-minimum armour that again, makes him vulnerable in a way most male heroes aren't, but a style female heroes wear all the time, whether it makes sense for them or not. This of course then allows artists to draw attention to this fact by posing Nightwing in poses usually reserved for femme fatales:

And unlike the Hawkeye Initiative, these poses are (largely) unironic, and not played for jokes. Dick isn't arching his back or looking over his shoulder to poke fun at how female heroes are treated; he does so because the artist (clearly correctly) sincerely believed these poses would play into the unironic gaze of the audience, and also probably thought it was hot. It's the same line of thought artists use when posing femme fatales.

He's even been known to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip, much like more traditional Femme Fatales. In Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), he refers to sleeping with Harley Quinn after being kidnapped by her as one of "the things I do for Gotham", to which she responds "I'm taking that as a 'yes'." And that's uh- not how consent works.

And this particularly sucks because- HELLO? The opportunity to explore the very real and tragically underacknowledged phenomenon of sexual violence against men is literally invaluable, especially with such a prominent character. It's one thing to ignore that men face sexual violence, it's another, entirely more unforgivable thing to continuously and explicitly depict such scenarios and play them off as jokes or not as serious as they clearly are. But what did I expect from an industry that has never had a good track record on sexual violence anyway.

-> Queercoding?

There's also of course the fact that DC has been, as of late, dropping hints that Dick might be bisexual.

That on it's own doesn't mean anything, but when paired with the fact that DC has been angling toward giving Dick a similar playboy persona that Bruce has, just with men included, it's just very interesting.

(BTW: The likelihood DC actually commits to making Dick bi is, uh, not a lot, but if they're gonna stick with this weird closet stuff for a while, let's hope they do so in a way that doesn't make him sound like a cross between Donald Trump and Harry Styles next time? Please?)

Anyway, all of this is basically to say I am forever fascinated by the gender dynamics of Dick Grayson, likely due to the fact that I'm projecting all my eldest daughter traumas onto him, and that someone who's background is in Gender Studies needs to get on this shit if they haven't already. I just love this character sm.

[kabr0ztrousers]

There's this tired worn out guy and he can't help but fantasize about how nice it would be to be a hucow that spends his days getting his chest and dick milked, but everywhere only seems to hire women since it's much easier to induce lactation. He's sitting at this boring desk at work when a mysterious email shows up inviting him to trial run the newest technology in the hucow field!! When he arrives it's better than he can even fathom. Little does he know that this trial run is aired on TV for the entire world to see. People can send in money and control just how fast, slow, hard, or soft the machines milk or fuck him.

Kabr0z Writes episode 63: Reality TV

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: intox; dubcon; implements; restraints; humiliation; coercion; overstim;

A/N: This wasn't requested to be another Chitinid story, but there's only 2 continuities I have ongoing where hucows feature, and this is the one where it isn't an underground practice. I'm not against spinning out another continuity, but couching it where things are already set up helps streamline the process

########################################

A month ago, the old library had been flattened. That was the last interesting thing that had happened in this city, and since then Mike's life has been an unending sequence of cubicle walls and tedious emails. He sighed. Half the world spirited away to be milked stupid, spending the entire remainder of their lives in chemically induced ecstasy to harvest their sexual fluids, and he managed to wind up behind a desk.

Not that Mike hadn't tried, he wrote to his city supervisor, even tried going above his head to regional governor, but was met with the same response every time: his best place was where he was, sat behind a desk so Chitinid anthropologists could study him as the drab monotony of the passing days slowly drove him mad. No wonder they got resistance cells, even if they didn't admit they existed. Of course, everyone knew there was a resistance, libraries don't get demolished via high-caliber autocannons because of termites.

A notification pinged in the corner of the screen Mike had been ignoring for the last hour. A half page of corporate lorem ipsum left behind by his train of thought. He opened the email and scanned it, finger poised over the delete key.

"You have been Selected" came the subject line

Weird, spam didn't exist any more. Nobody had anything to steal, companies didn't have any information to pillage, there wasn't even anything worth destroying. He read on

"Congratulations!

You have been selected to take part in a viability study involving human livestock material harvesting. You have been selected because either you have registered interest with your city supervisor, or your usefulness has been re-evaluated"

Well, he'd definitely made his interest well known. The rest of the email detailed where to go, what to bring, when to be there. One final sentence capped off the message, reminding the recipients that this is in fact not optional. Mike would either go willingly, or he would be taken. That's one way to deal with people not reading their email.

There wasn't much required to bring. Civilian travel documents, ID card, and the clothes on his back. Only he turned up, either everyone else was trying to hide or nobody else was selected from his area, either way, he probably wouldn't find out. Transparency was never at the top of their lists of priorities.

A gunship swung down low, the silent engine didn't even disturb the treetops as the vessel passed within inches of them. A voice came over the loudspeaker, a Chitinid speaking English

"Citizen Lewis, Michael. Identity recognised. Stand by for transfer"

Stand by for transfer. Sounds like he wasn't about to be atomised by weapons fire at least. Always a plus

A confinement field engulfed him. The tingling blue light surrounding you before the world disappeared, replaced with a holding cell. Exactly as expected.

There's no way to measure time in a Chitinid holding cell. The walls are blank, the lighting flat. This one didn't even seem to have a door.

Mike tried to sleep, without success. Chitinids never seemed to realise that blue light stops humans going to sleep, either that or they just didn't care. So he sat on the floor. The ship could be anywhere, going at any speed, there's no way to know. Mike had an idea of where it was probably headed, the human farms were kept in great facilities on the moon. They were visible even without a telescope, even if the ship traffic to and from wasn't.

The lights in the room brightened, the air becoming charged. The whole room was filled with a confinement field. The world flipped, beaming the hapless man down, completely nude, onto a metal table.

He couldn't move, he must have been sent from one confinement field to another. This didn't match what he'd been told about these facilities. Normally the people in these facilities would be held in huge spaces, hundreds of them plugged into machines with little to no conception of privacy. The room Mike found himself in was small, with only the table he was held to and only one device on the ceiling for company. A screen flickered to life, covering an entire wall of the room. Mike could see himself in it, the blue light of the containment casting him in a sickly pallor as the machine on the ceiling whirred to life.

A cup suctioned itself to his crotch as tubes carrying drugs attached themselves to his arms. A voice filled the room "Welcome, citizen, to the game of your life! You're live on channel nine!"

What?

A sound effect played. A number appeared on the screen and drugs pushed into Mike's bloodstream. He gasped as his skin flushed, turning red and immediately glistening with perspiration. Another noise, more drugs. His cock was achingly hard now, starting to throb into the tube surrounding it. The field parted his legs, bringing his knees upwards as a probe pushed against his asshole. Another noise and it pressed in, the cold metal making him wince before a tingling electric current ran through his prostate to the tip of his cock. The noises were speeding up, each one driving more drugs into him. Mike's chest became heavy, tits starting to bud, already leaking creamy milk as his cock dribbled precum.

A different noise, louder, more discordant, accompanied by the quick chattering of a Chitinid. The gentle electric pulsing from the probe in Mike's ass intensified for a moment. His hips bucked as his balls clenched, a rope of cum jetting from the tip of his cock. Then another, and another. The cocktail of alien aphrodisiac flowing into his body kept his cock hard and cooperative, but did nothing to stop his balls aching or the shaft burning as another noise jolted him again. His tits were leaking more now, probes fixing themselves to his nipples to collect the fluids, pumping and sucking the liquid out as the new tits kept growing at an alarming rate.

He groaned, partially from the exertions of the repeated orgasms, partly from the growing pains on his chest. The vocalisation caused a flurry of noises, the drugs hammering into his body causing him to twitch and convulse as a stream of thick cum pumped from his cock, getting thin and watery as his balls emptied out.

Mike's groans grew weaker, turning to wheezing sobs as the stimulation took its toll. His cock was still throbbing, trying to pump out ever more but nothing came, only the clenching of his drained nutsack sending painful lances through him.

The screen went dark. The stimulation stopped.

"Good show! Same time tomorrow!"

####################################

Well, I'll admit I'd lost faith in this one at about the halfway mark but feel like I pulled it back at the end

As always, any requests, ideas, scenarios, lore questions, etc, send an ask. I try to answer non-request asks quickly but if you bundle a question or something with a req, it'll get answered when you get your story

[blacknedsoul-blog]

An unnecessarily detailed analysis of the (re)encounter between Annabel and "Leo" (part II)

Evil tongues say I've had this shit in the oven for several weeks because I bought the fast pass on episode 105 and smoked the whole season one afternoon when I was bored as a fucking oyster about to climb the walls. Don't listen to them, they're telling the truth.

So, yeah, people. We had a flashback. One that comes right after the last one we had. Aside from the fact that we finally know a little more about Theo, I want to focus on the direct sequel to a review I did a while back. So let's get started.

I'm still trying to decide if Annabel is complaining just because she had to get off her ass or because "Leo's" room being so far away from hers is, ahem, inconvenient. Another detail that someone mentioned on the discord, is that Annabel does this thing where she grabs her dress when she is trying to maintain the performance.

(later edit: someone commented to me that actually their rooms are ridiculously close to each other. So allow me to insert ridiculous jokes about how the first thing Ira will do when these two are engaged is take his precious daughter who is not to be touched before marriage somewhere else).

...Ah, they put... they put Annabel in Lenore's old room. Yeah, that must have been uncomfortable as shit. 

Okay. This is something I kind of suspected in her first stolen moment at the Arboreum, but I think this confirms it for me: yes, Lenore teasing Annabel is a way of expressing annoyance without being directly hurtful. 

Raise your hand if you enjoy seeing "Miss Proper Lady" lose her fucking temper. Bonus points if she deserves it. 

Lenore, I don't know if taking your clothes off is the best way to get Annabel to stay on topic. I do want to emphasize her face in that moment, though, like she knows Annabel cares about her, but she's still angry at her, and pressuring her to drop the mask is literally the only way she has to express it. I like it because it's consistent with her stolen moment in the Arboreum. 

"Admire this magnificent door made of door. Yes, an excellent door. Wonderful door. Eyes on the door, Annabel, eyes on the door and not on your crush taking off his jacket in front of you. Also, don't think too much about the fact that if anyone sees this, everything that is important to you will fall apart".  

Pause. Where did we see Annabel say that? Ah, yes. Well, if we had any doubts about posh besties, this confirms it. 

I want to linger on the faces of both of them in this scene because, for the love of Nyarlathotep, they are painful to watch knowing that this will end with both dead. 

Yes, Annabel, this "perhabs" was very VERY serious. 

I'm sure this is the second time in Annabel's life that someone has asked her if she wants something. And it's the same person. Ouch.

Does anyone else in the squad find it disturbing that ANNABEL is concerned about moral issues? 

That's not how Kabedons are made, missy. 

LENORE, LOOK AT THE FUCKING FACE SHE'S LOOKING AT YOU WITH, SHE WOULDN'T BE "PRETENDING TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU", SHE'S EATING OUT OF YOUR FUCKING HAND RIGHT NOW. IF SHE WASN'T AFRAID OF JAIL AND WASN'T SO VICTORIAN, SHE'D BE ASKING IF SHE COULD GET IN YOUR PANTS.   

Okey, I need to know how this went from "pff, it's not a real marriage, we're both women!" to "I'm gonna fuckin' whore myself with Nyarlathotep Tumblrsexymen to come get you, baby. Shit, if these two die without having this conversation, I'm going to shoot myself in the mouth with a medieval arquebus. 

I like this moment because it tells you two interesting things: one is that Annabel must have a complicated relationship with her father, she cares for him and maybe feels he loves her in his own way, but at the same time Ira is her jailer, the main culprit of the golden cage she's trapped in. Another thing: we know Lenore used to care about her father, but come on, after everything that happened, I doubt she gives the man a second thought. 

...I wrote practically the exact same dialog in a fanfic. Actually, in the first Nevermore fanfic I ever wrote, when the fuck did my bullshit ever come true? 

I was racking my brain for a while about why Annabel keeps doing this. Like, look at this shit, even Ada or Morella would be able to see that this is bullshit. And I think I have an idea why. 

I think Annabel started to figure out how to make this work even before she came in. Maybe she's not all in, but at least the idea is tempting. The thing is, she's putting a lot on the line here: her life, her relationship with her father (the only family member we know of), what little freedom she has.

And that means she has to put her chips on the right person. She knows how the social game works, she knows how to manipulate the stakes of her hand, maybe she even thinks she knows how to get around those pesky legal snags when they come up. 

But she's not cunning, she's not quick-thinking, she lacks determination, and she's definitely not brave. Lenore can wrap herself in big dreams and beautiful words all she wants, but if she can't make up for Annabel's weaknesses, it's a losing bet from the start. On top of that, she has to be able to read her: in Victorian engagements, even your pet was into that shit, so sneaking away to plan things would be more of a rare privilege than a constant, her playmate has to be able to understand her perfectly, because they can't waste valuable time explaining minutiae. They have to be on the same page to the millimeter. 

Annabel is a player. And as such, she knows that in games where you have a partner, the key to winning isn't playing your own cards or chips well, it's being able to synchronize with your partner to give each other better plays until one of you manages to win. 

And if I had to bet, I think that is the Lenore that Annabel wants back: the Lenore who can read her, the Lenore who can get under her skin and know her true intentions even when Annabel is wearing the most perfect mask. The Lenore who can smile boldly and tell her that everything will be all right. 

Of course, Lenore passed the test. With a more than perfect score. 

The chapter ends with Lenore giving Annabel the final decision: if she sees no reason to stay, she won't, and she can assure her that she'll be fine. But if she's in, she'll do everything in her power to make it work. 

This was the moment that tore me up inside because it made me drop the shingle of sad, sad shit. 

Conclusions

And here's why I decided to post this analysis after the season.  

One thing this episode told me was that I was wrong about one thing: the relationship between these two isn't exactly what it used to be. What this episode also told me was that, despite everything, the two of them seemed to be able to communicate and find common ground, to make deals, to give each other choices. Shit we don't see anymore in their time in Nevermore. 

And with good reason.

In Nevermore Annabel and Lenore are adrift. No memories, no identity, no bonds. As if that weren't enough, both are terrified: Annabel has built all her means of survival around a context that she masters perfectly, and in Nevermore she doesn't know what's going on; on the other hand, Lenore's bravery and cunning are qualities that turn from virtues to flaws in a context where every single one of her decisions has repercussions for the people around her; she's willing to take anything, but not what happens to the people she loves. 

These two idiots know only one thing: that they love each other. And for Annabel and Lenore, loving means protecting. They have to try to protect each other because they really love each other. They love each other so much that they can't.

Because the only way for Annabel to protect Lenore is to be the queen of the board, to be the piece that everyone wants to get out of the way because her presence is too much of an inconvenience, because if she's good at anything,  it's dazzling so hard that no one is able to really see her. On the other hand, the only place Lenore can protect Annabel is by her side, she won't have a Spectre, but she's willing to do what it takes to take care of her if she stays where she can fight for her. 

But that won't happen because of the irreconcilable conflict caused by the memory (false or not, in practice it doesn't matter) that the Deans showed Annabel. She can't tell her that, she won't tell her that, how could she? It would tear Lenore apart and at worst alter her memories. But on the other hand, Lenore obviously wants to know, because she sees that Annabel is suffering, she wants to be there, she wants her to let her comfort her, to be by her side to help her sort this out, and all her pleas fall on deaf ears for reasons she can't even fathom.

But without realizing it, in all this devotion and accompanying fear, Annabel and Lenore are repeating the same controlling patterns of those who tried to save the other in life. 

Annabel is doing the same thing Thaddeus did when he got Lenore a fiancé, the same thing the doctors did when they kept her drugged 24/7 as a treatment even though she was sick, dare I say the same thing Theo did: assuming she knows better than she does what's good for her. "Protecting" her, even when that happens to be the agency Lenore is desperately trying to have over her life after being deprived of her freedom.

And on the other hand...this.

By taking full responsibility for what happened, Lenore is doing the same thing as Ira and all the people we meet in Annabel's life: denying her agency as an individual. Annabel is not a naive brat who was seduced by sweet words, she is a grown woman who was very, very clear about what the risks were. That they both ended up dead is partly her fault, but by turning this affair into "if I hadn't gone looking for you," Lenore completely invalidates Annabel's feelings, desires, and choices. 

A relationship that was once built on respect for choice and shared decision-making has now become a power game that neither can win, because one of the most important foundations of their relationship is that they are both equals. 

I'd like to end this on a more positive note, but...uh...well, the thing is, I don't. Like, that they're going to reconcile, they're going to reconcile, you know? But for that to happen, somebody's got to give them a massive punch like, something that tears them apart so they realize how fucking bad they are do-

You know what? Yeah, that might do it.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hey Raven, i wanted to ask: Do you think if Silver was born as a girl that Lilia would have raised him differently? Basically, i wonder how Lilia would raise a girl.

What do you think..?

I really don't think Lilia would have raised a daughter any differently than a son. Starting out as a parent, Lilia had a hard time grasping the needs of a human child and how they differ from that of a fae child. For example, he wouldn't worry when infant Silver slipped out of his cradle (expecting Silver to come back on his own) and presently still tends to babies by feeding them milk not in a nippled bottle but from a regular cup. His primary concern, then, would mainly be on learning these nuances between human and fae rather than being concerned with male or female (the former being a far greater distinction than the latter).

Lilia and Silver's lifestyle would be the same, regardless of what Silver's sex is. He (or she) would still be in a position where they have to deal with a father that is messy and cannot cook well, which puts Silver in a situation where they have to grow up quickly to take care of Lilia and himself (when Lilia is away on his travels). This would probably result in a very similar personality forming for fem!Silver--someone who is diligent, reserved, and devoted to Lilia. I'm certain that Lilia would also still train Silver as a knight. I don't see him as the type of person who would perceive women as weak or helpless, nor do I see him discouraging a woman from being able to fight. After all, he knows and is close with two extremely powerful women (Meleanor and Maleficia) who could easily strike HIM down if they wanted to. Lilia laughs at the suggestion that his princess is a damsel in distress and is quick to correct others by informing them that maybe their princesses are like that, but his is not. Sure, that comes down to the Draconia blood making Meleanor powerful beyond the average mage--but what reason would Lilia have to deny Silver the same opportunity to gain the strength to protect others, just as Meleanor and Maleficia have for their own family and people? The fear of potentially losing Silver? But isn't it more dangerous to not let Silver have a fighting chance at all? That’s what I think, at least.

Finally, when it comes to things like "looking feminine" or "looking masculine", Lilia himself has always toed that line. In fact, he usually has the most feminine or flamboyant looks of Diasomnia. The most immediate example I can think of is his dorm uniform in which he proudly wears an oversized coat to give the appearance of being small and cute, and having tons of ruffles and a skirt-like flare to his pants. Lilia also often confidently brags about how "cute" he is and takes great pride in that cuteness. I'd imagine that he encourages Silver to dress how he likes, sex or gender be damned, so long as Silver feels his best. And Silver, being Silver, would probably just dress as usual Silver does, in something serious and practical rather than something "stylish".

I feel like the only thing that would really change is Silver not being able to attend NRC. (Well... unless it's a situation where fem!Silver attends anyway but is passing as a guy because of how androgenous she is.)

[queendeeshorrorimagines]

Can I pretty please request a soulmate AU for this prompt: you have a meter/rating on your body that tells you how dangerous your soulmate is

With the character being Thomas Hewitt??

🥺🙏🏻

Tommy's got his soulmate

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of reader being an outcast, slight angst with a fluffy ending, mentions of the smell of cigarette/ weed smoke.

The faint smell of smoke and cheap incense lingered inside the rather dated van as you sat in the back. Soft chattering over the humming of a local radio station made the ride through the desolate Texas road rather calming.

You and your friends were doing a cross country road trip for your final summer vacation for your university years. Friends was a rather long stretch for your relationship with them, yet it could be worse.

On everyone's right wrist was a 1 to 10 meter that showed how dangerous your soulmate was, beeping when you get close to your soulmate. While everyone you know had ones and twos with the occasional three rating, you've always had the rating of ten.

Your soulmate was simply dangerous. The only saving grace was the fact that it never beeped- never actually meeting them before. There were times when you wondered if your soulmate was in prison or in some rather seedy situations, making you more reluctant on meeting them.

Although your parents tried to soothe your worries by saying that you will be safe with your soulmate even though whomever they are is obviously an dangerous person, you can still tell that they were scared for your future.

You tried hiding your meter from your peers but they all end up finding out the truth. If it wasn't the looks of pity, it was the quiet whispers everywhere you walked. It was a sad reality for you to be shunned for what fate or whatever Deity that chose this for you.

"Damnit Henry, you didn't fill the tank up!?"

Mark yelled at his friend as the empty gas light comes on. Amy and Maxine groaned with irritations as you looked up, seeing a sign for a service station a mile away. You spoke up over the arguing young men.

"Guys, there's a service station a mile away if we take this turn. If you two stop arguing like an old married couple, we might be able to make it before we're all fucked."

The men quickly shut up, somewhat intimidated by the simple fact that you were fated to be with a highly dangerous person. The women giggled at the last part, looking away from their magazines.

"How are you able to intimate those two so easily? They stopped fighting right when you spoke."

Maxine asked, looking at you with her doe like soft eyes. You gave an anxious smile as you hear Amy laughed at the other woman's innocence to your situation.

"Well Maxine, there's a reason why you've never seen my meter... I don't like showing it...."

You started to speak, your left hand moving over to rub the covered meter on your right hand. Amy interrupted you.

"Their soulmate rating is a ten, worst anyone could get. Their soulmate is is a fucking monster, Maxine. The boys are scared of how potentially dangerous they will be given their soulmate."

Before there was a chance for you or Maxine to speak, the van was parked next to a gas pump in front of the rather old service station. You opted to get out of the van and get some coffee from the station while Mark gets out to fill the van. Henry, Amy, and Maxine decided to follow you inside for a snack run.

You walked towards the coffee pots, filling a cup with the hot liquid. A quiet beep came from your meter as you heard a softer beep from a short distance. The gas station owner, an older woman stared at you with interest as the beeping becomes faster and louder.

Anxiety flows through your veins as you stood still- as if you were a deer in headlights. Heavy footsteps grew closer to you as the beeping for both yours and your soulmstes meters became apparent to your friend group and the the older lady as the door from the back exit of the building open.

Actually meeting your soulmate wasn't a thing that you've ever thought would happen within your life. The hurricane of thoughts made you not notice the audible gasp come from the older lady's lips.

The first thing you noticed was how much larger the man was. Your wide eyes looked up at him as he stared at you. Time froze as you took in every detail of your soulmate; from the way his curly brown hair clings to his large neck, the leather mouth piece that covers his mouth, all the way to how he has a farmers tan on his face and arms.

The logical side of you was screaming to run away as fast as you could because of how dangerous your meter says he is. Yet, you felt a sense of safety and acceptance coming from the much larger man. A older feminine voice brought the both of you back to reality.

"It appears that you're my son, Tommy's soulmate.."

A look of approval was shown on her face as she gave you a motherly hug. You accepted the hug from her as Tommy watches you.

"I'm Luda Mae, but please call me mama."

She continued as you heard tires screeched outside. Looking towards the windows, you saw your friend's van speed away from the gas station. Your eyes widened in shock as they left you alone with only your wallet. Luda quickly goes to the wall phone, calling what seemed to be the sheriff. You didn't pay attention to what was said as the two of you embraced each other, knowing that you have each other now.