#but yes it’s also a much wider problem than that

[myrsinemezzo]

Haladriel and Interfandom Strife

I’ve been having an enjoyable time reading and researching about gender, race, sexuality, and neoliberal feminism in fandom in terms of both antagonism within fandom communities along with anti culture. (Because why would I do my job when I can be rattling around on journals and books dedicated to fandom studies…) Wow, has it been interesting when I think of some of these things in terms of Haladriel as well as the wider TROP community and beyond.

One of the things that struck me the most is the idea when people made up of an oppressed body cannot generate larger structural change, often the outlet becomes “horizontal violence” where anger is dispersed and “directed laterally within the oppressed group instead of at larger structural concerns” (Duffy, Miltner, Wahlstedt, 2022). Elaine Duffy conceived of and circulated this concept way back in 1995 and it’s been brought up again in recent internet scholarship focused on both anti and interfandom interactions. In many ways, this attitude and act confuses real-world activism with an individual’s relationship to neoliberal consumption and what that trio of authors modify into “digital horizontal violence.” While their primary object of study was social media and influencer culture, their main point is that cycles of misogyny rattle along right next to that violence and vitriol. Even if it’s distributed outside of male spheres the rhetoric is often piggybacking talking points from those spheres (aka “silly women interested in their romance” or “we have to protect you from yourselves��). As Duffy, Miltner, and Wahlstedt drily put it, “th[e] efficacy in dismantling gendered norms is dubious,” despite the “passion and intensity” members of internet callout groups use to critique what they see as harmful attitudes.

So do anti-Haladriels feel oppressed and lash out with digital horizontal violence? From my perspective, it’s a resounding yes. It’s easier to take out frustrations on a related group within a fandom that you feel is not doing morality right than to enact structural change against the attacks of wider lorebro LOTR circles or even larger structural issues like misogyny and capitalism itself.

The big problem with that is not only does it suck, but it very much seems as if the discourse around Haladriel has had the marked effect of chilling fandom participation within the main TROP tags and even within the Haladriel tag itself from anyone interested in that ship. This isn’t helped by vague or anonymous posts reminiscent of the discourse on Twitter over the past two years or more of those ambivalent to or who dislike the ship dividing fans into camps of “bad haladriels” vs “good haladriels.” Those two arbitrary camps are still often lumped together by the refusal to outright say what is meant or who is meant – possibly at the risk of sounding mean or antagonistic.

There’s way more to say when it comes to the underlying problems with queer erasure in terms of kink where those inside and outside TROP fandom are not able to imagine or intuit that a het pairing like Haladriel can function as kink for members of the queer community in just as valid a way as slash preferences within het communities (Morrissey, 2014). And don’t get me started on the concept of generational cringe culture that also doesn’t accomplish change and just buys into ageist assumptions of being able to have distinct generational age ranges that inherently and constantly improve on the previous generation (because it’s no secret that a lot of antis are puritanical in their view on sex and romance if you take a look on social media platforms and even on AO3).

Them’s my thoughts on recent readings. It really hammers home how older ideas of “don’t like don’t read,” “Your kink is not my kink and that’s okay,” or – if you’re into blocking habits which I’m not unless someone is actively screaming epithets at me – to curate space however you want or can. There’s also a concept of “Calling In” rather than “Calling Out” that I’ve just started to dig into (Ross, 2020) that suggests working through trauma together rather than attacking other interfandom groups is the way to go. Because do Haladriel fans engage in the same kind of digital horizontal violence when they feel oppressed? Sure! But it’s going to be a long, long hiatus without some kind of self-awareness on what can happen between all of us, and scholarship helps me make sense of fandom and sometimes the wider world.

Anyway, none of us are perfect, and god knows I’ve misstepped in fandom dealings before, but I love this space and my ship and my show. …And at some point I’ll get back to Sticks of Power and purposeful positivity posts. I vow it lol.

[ye-olde-trojan-horse]

good night to everyone, except:

people who deem it necessary to open their mouth and criticise fanfics by sharing their entitled, ill-conceived and (quite frankly) useless opinions that no one asked for.

people who enjoy pineapple on pizza.

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[mrkis]

nct dream reaction :: getting horny unintentionally

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗? 〚YES〛/ 〚𝗡𝗢✗〛 ⟶ requests are closed.

AUTHORS NOTE. was talking abt this with @haechrry a while back and i almost passed away so i had to write it. also, a biiiiiig thank you to @dollyji who helped give ideas for chenle and jisungs (mwah). also again this isn’t proofread it’s currently 5am so if you notice any mistakes, no you don’t <3

. . . 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞

mark always has his hand on resting on your thigh, both intentional and unintentional. you learnt over time that this specific form of physical touch comforted him, made him feel at ease, grounded him whenever he was stuck in his own head. the touch comforted you too and you didn't have any problem with it, but it was the strokes of his fingers and the grabbing of your flesh that turned a sweet moment into a moment of want and need. you wanted nothing more than to grip his hand and shove it in between your thighs to where you yearned for him the most.

you're stuck in one of those moments, eyeing his hand that rests on your thigh, watching his fingers drum against your skin as he hums a tune under his breath all while staring down at his phone in his other hand. he has no idea what he's doing to you.

"what are you looking at?" he suddenly asks you and your head snaps up to meet his eyes, noticing that he's staring at with you an unreadable glint. "what's up?"

"nothing" you shake your head, but you press your lips together with a deep exhale as you start to feel mark's fingers knead into your skin. "do you know what you're doing?"

"no?" he frowns before his attention dart down to his hand, realisation creeping over him. "oh" he gives you a boyish grin, something you immediately want to kiss off of his face. "i didn't know me doing something so simple turned you on so much"

"everything you do turns me on"

"i can do something about that, if you want?" mark suggests as he shuts off his phone and places it down, turning to face you fully as he leans in close, "just open your legs a little wider for me, baby"

. . . 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡

he’s just standing there. he’s just standing half naked with a towel hanging loosely off of his hips as he rummages through your drawers to look for his sleepwear. yet there’s something about him standing half naked in your room that has your mind running wild.

the imprint of his cock pressing against the material of the towel has your mouth watering, the water droplets that slide down his chest does nothing to help calm your feral thoughts and you can almost feel yourself beginning to drool when his body turns to face you, throwing a clean shirt and boxers down on the bed.

you watch with hungry eyes as he tugs the towel off his hips, letting it fall to the ground as he reaches for his boxers to put them on but your quicker, leaping over the bed covers to snatch them up, causing him to make a noise of surprise as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“i need to get dressed” he chuckles when he sees you hold the item close to your chest. “baby, come on…”

“i don’t think you’ll be needing them” you say truthfully and you see a smile start to form on his lips.

“and why’s that?”

“because i’m going to suck your cock” you tell him, noticing how his cock twitches at your words. “and then you’re going to fuck me. after that, we’ll shower together to not waste water… and maybe we’ll go for round two”

“yeah? is that right?” he asks you and you nod immediately. “alright. get on your knees for me then and suck me off so i can fuck you good”

. . . 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢

it's supposed to be a romantic date night with you and jeno, enjoying the midnight sky after a hefty meal and a few drinks, wrapped up in each others arms as you enjoy your alone time together.

but the situation you're in doesn't feel romantic in the slightest, in fact you're feeling a little hot and aroused being pressed up against a railing with jeno standing behind you, chin resting on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your middle, his body flush against yours as he takes in the scenery.

you can feel him, all of him. his cock pressing between your ass cheeks which is covered by a flimsy skirt and every breath he takes, it presses more into you, caging you between him and the railing.

your pussy aches for him, desperate to flip up your skirt and push your underwear to the side to have him so easily slide into you and fuck you right here in public, for anyone to see, but you know that's not going to happen.

"this is supposed to be a romantic date night yet you're grinding your ass against my cock like a bitch in heat" you hear him murmur into your ears and you mewl softly, doing nothing to stop your actions as you continue pushing back into him and he grips your hips tight, hissing through his teeth. "keep going and i'll bend you over this railing, let the whole city hear you scream my name"

. . . 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

the position of haechan laying between your thighs, head resting on your belly as he watches something on his phones screen has you feeling weak in the knees. his breath fans against your skin, his hair tickles you every time he moves, the light pecks he gives you randomly has you squeezing your thighs around his shoulders.

he coos, taking it as a sign of you hugging him and he stokes you, delicate fingers tracing shapes on your skin, not realising the damage he’s causing to you and your poor panties that are probably soaked in arousal, feeling uncomfortably sticky on your folds.

you try to manoeuvre around to get some friction, to feel anything that could satisfy the need for him and the way he slowly turns his head to look at you could almost be deemed as comical if it wasn’t for his darkened gaze.

“i know what you’re doing” he says, completely disregarding his phone as it drops to the bed sheets. “i know me laying between your legs like this is turning you on. Do you think you’re sneaky?”

you cant help but scoff, “You knew yet you didn’t do anything about it?”

“just wanted to see if you’d beg me” he states nonchalantly, pressing his hands on your thighs to spread them apart further, smirking as he sees the damp patch on your shorts. “do it, baby. beg me”

. . . 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡

“fuck, why is this so hard?” you hear jaemin curse under his breath from the kitchen and your brows pull together at the sound, peering your head around the doorframe to see your shirtless boyfriend staring down at a recipe on the countertop, palms flat against the surface and muscles bulging as he leans in to take a closer look.

he grumbles and curses again, mumbling something about the ingredients as he runs his fingers through his hair and let’s put a frustrated sigh, craning his neck back to reveal his adams apple.

the sight, undoubtedly, is arousing. seeing jaemin so worked up and cursing over something so simple has you feeling a little hot and bothered, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him roll his shoulders back with a grunt and he goes to turn, seemingly heading towards the cabinets but stops in his tracks as he sees you, leaning against the doorframe with a familiar glint in your eyes.

“how long have you been standing there?”

“long enough” you answer, clearly checking him out as your eyes roam over his chest and down to his vline where the rest his hidden by a pair of sweatpants that hang from his hips. “what are you doing?”

“was hungry, tried following a new recipe” he explains to you with a grin, drumming his fingers against the countertop as he looks at you, gaze turning sultry. “although if you come over here and sit your pretty little ass down in front of me, i may be hungry for something else”

. . . 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘

“did you see that? that was such bullshit… what the fuck? how can someone be so dumb? so clueless? i swear, they do this shit on purpose. stupid fucking idiots—”

you’re salivating at the mouth hearing chenle curse out the players on the tv screen, too engrossed in the game to notice how much of an effect his rant seems to have on you.

chenle getting riled up over anything and everything is definitely one of your favourite versions of him, seeing the annoyance and anger swimming in his irises, face red and teeth grit together. he doesn’t get riled up at you per se, it’s at everything else that pisses him off. (even though sometimes, you do wish it was you, hence why you always act like a brat in the bedroom).

eyeing him up, seeing how his jaw clenches makes you want to push at his shoulders to lay him down flat and smother his face more than ever, and with his fists clenching at his sides makes you yearn for him to manhandle you in his grip and have you in any way he prefers.

but it was him clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and poking at his cheek in frustration that makes you snap, hands gripping his shoulders and laying him back against the sofa cushions, climbing onto his lap and tugging his belt through the loops of his jeans.

“really? that easy?” he chides you, brow raising as if to say he was in disbelief. but with how he’s growing harder beneath your palm, you know he’s feeling the exact same way as you. “come on then, princess. sit on my face while i fuck your mouth”

. . . 𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚

you’re supposed to be finishing up the latest episode of a tv show, promising to get it over and done with to spill your thoughts and theories with your bestie over text. but you struggle to complete the task when you can see jisung in the corner of your eye fiddle with his hands, twisting the rings that he’s wearing around his fingers and pressing down on his knuckles to crack them all while whispering lowly beneath his breath—lyrics of a song that sounds a little suggestive due to his tone.

you try to not take any more notice but you find yourself in a difficult position with him leaning against you and hearing the whispers so clearly in your ear and the movements of his fingers. you fidget in your seat, clearing your throat as you try to collect your thoughts all while the arousal builds, pussy clenching around nothing as you squeeze your thighs together.

“why’d you keep moving so much?” jisung suddenly asks you and you freeze, almost feeling a little silly at being caught.

“you’re distracting me”

he cocks his head to the side innocently, “i am?”

“yes” you nod. “i can hear you whispering the lyrics to that song and playing with your fingers… it’s distracting”

“is it?” jisung asks again this time, but his voice is low and sultry, causing you to turn to look at him in surprise as he smiles at you. “want me to whisper how much i want to fuck you in your ear while i finger you? i can do that if you want”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[afloweroutofstone]

In late 2023, I published the first ever survey of weapons companies advertising to policymakers in the DC subway system. Earlier this month, I spoke with Responsible Statecraft for a follow-up article which notes that the problem appears to have gotten even worse.

Leaving the [Washington National] airport I walked past ads for other Pentagon contractors and noticed that an in-airport playground that my kids have cavorted upon is sponsored by Boeing, whose weaponry has allegedly been used in numerous attacks that have killed children. And that’s an important distinction: these aren’t ads from companies that sell car insurance or beer, these are ads from companies that literally profit from war — and the threat of war — and get hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars every year to do it.

...So I contacted my former colleague Brett Heinz, who has done one of the only systematic analyses of Pentagon contractor ads in the D.C. metro system that I’m aware of — he spent dozens of hours riding the metro just to look at ads so, yes, he might be a masochist, but he’s highly knowledgeable about this topic.

“Oh, it’s gotten so much worse,” Heinz... explained in an interview. “The subway campaigns that I focused on are still common,” he added, pointing to recent ad campaigns by Amazon Web Services (AWS) — which were running as Amazon founder Jeff Bezos was in town for President Trump’s inauguration — proclaiming to riders that “AWS is how taxpayer dollars go further” and “AWS is how intelligence stays a step ahead.”

“But contractors have also been trying new approaches,” Heinz added, pointing to the Anduril and L3 Harris billboard-sized ads that have been running on the side of D.C. buses for months.

...“The returns on investment here are massive: if a contractor's ad campaign has even a marginal effect in securing one single Pentagon contract, the company will make their money back several times over,” Heinz explained.

To that point, just since the Anduril ads began running in the greater D.C. area the company has been awarded more than $1 billion in a series of contracts from the Pentagon.

While the ad campaigns' direct impact on any of these deals would be hard to prove, there’s no question that ad campaigns by Anduril and other Pentagon contractors get the attention of D.C. decision makers. That’s exactly the point. According to Outfront, “transit advertising makes you a part of consumers’ day.” In the greater D.C. area those “consumers” can be Pentagon acquisition officials, members of Congress, and their staff that help determine how much taxpayer money the Pentagon spends, and even which companies — like Anduril — get it.

These ads, then, are better seen as lobbying by other means. And, while it’s technically illegal for contractors to use Congressionally appropriated funds “for influencing or attempting to influence an officer or employee of any agency,” transit ads have not been considered as falling under this limitation. And last May, a D.C. judge ruled that a WMATA provision barring “advertisements that are intended to influence public policy,” was a violation of the First Amendment, which now gives government contractors and others free rein to run issue ads in the D.C. transit system.

In short, residents and visitors to our nation's capital will be forced to wade through an even wider and deeper swamp of Pentagon contractor marketing that was made possible, to some extent, by the hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars the Pentagon doles out every year.

[22ayla21]

your hsr amphoreus men as dads are so adorable !! especially mydei’s !! i hc his children looking and acting a LOT like him but im also debating on whether his son would look like his mother but act like him XDD

Mom's Legacy

No matter how hard a son tries to be like his father, he looks more and more like his mother.

Mydei sat in a chair, arms crossed over his chest, watching his son closely. The boy was focused, his blond hair slightly disheveled and his brows furrowed as he mimicked the movements his father had once performed. He stood in a fighting stance, trying to be confident and majestic like his father, but…

- Are you seriously expecting me to believe that?- Mydei's voice was slightly sarcastic as the boy lunged forward, but then lost his balance and nearly fell. The child frowned in offense and looked at his father with the very expression that made Mydei grin.

- I’m just not used to it, - the boy replied, brushing off his clothes.

- Not used to it? Or do you just miss my predatory nature?

- I have it! - the son protested, straightening up.

Mydei tilted his head slightly to the side, watching him. Yes, the boy tried to imitate him, in every movement and gesture there was a desire to be as strong, but... he was too light, too soft. There was no hardness in his eyes that Mydei was used to seeing in his reflection. And something else...

- Maybe the problem is that you are too much like your mother? - he finally said, leaning his elbow on the armrest of the chair. The son instantly froze.

- No! - he shouted, clearly offended.

- Oh, what a reaction, - Mydei chuckled, raising an eyebrow slightly.

- And what's wrong with that? - a voice suddenly sounded behind him. Mydei felt a familiar warmth envelop his shoulder - his wife leaned against him, resting her hands on the back of the chair. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. - You chose me yourself, didn't you?

- Hm, - He glanced at her, full of a hidden grin. - That doesn't change the fact that our son has inherited your... soft features.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, as if considering, and then smiled slyly:

- Well, if you think about it... I like it.

Mydei narrowed his eyes.

- Yes?

- Of course. When he grows up, he will become even more charming than you.

- Oh, is that so? - Mydei narrowed his eyes predatorily, but there was only a slight amusement in them.

- You said yourself that he is like me, - her smile became even wider.

The son was embarrassed, lowering his head, but could not hold back a smile. He seemed to enjoy watching their banter, even if he himself became the object of it. Mydei sighed, shaking his head.

- Okay, - He stood up from his chair, approaching his son and placing his hand on his head. - But remember, if you want to be like me, you'll have to become... well, at least a little more dangerous.

- I can do it! - the boy declared with burning eyes.

- We'll see, - Mydei drawled lazily, throwing another glance at his wife. She just laughed. Of course, her son had inherited her features. But that wasn't bad at all.

[ganxiously]

Okay, bear with me on this, but I am more and more convinced that 911 is in this mess with BuckTommy because they picked up a very audience-favourite trope and then, did not follow through with it till the end. What I am talking about is the 'if you are going to be bisexual, it better be for someone who's worth it' trope. We see this in most mainstream bisexual representation nowadays - schitt's creek, heartstopper, rwrb and I wouldn't say it is the best representation or the healthiest one but it is a hopeful approach and one that makes bisexuality palatable to a much wider range of audience than it would otherwise be, kind of like how 'gay for you' worked but with a step in the right direction. It also kind of subverts all the negative representation of bisexuality that we have seen so far, with the non-monogamy, sexual perversion and cheating etc and at the same time, establishes the bisexual identity in a more romantic sphere - where you are bisexual because you loved this person enough to question yourself. It is okay rn because it is so new, practically not even 5 years in the making, but it could turn harmful because that is sadly not how bisexuality works.

Now, coming back to BuckTommy, they followed this formula because that is the best way to go when your audience is not that educated on all things sexuality. If they were going to make Buck bisexual after 6 seasons of straightness, they had to put someone opposite him who would make the audience feel like 'yes! I too would question my sexuality for that guy'. So they created Tommy and they literally went the sugar and spice and everything nice route. We see other characters complimenting him and whatever else you say, you cannot claim that firefighter pilot who can fly in a hurricane does not sound fucking cool. But . . . the problem starts because they dragged it out and in an attempt to make him worthy of Buck's bisexual realisation, they kept building him in a way that would make him perfect for Buck. And this thing worked for the other shows/movies/books because the relationship is endgame in every single one of them. it works because they are literally created to be the only ones for each other. But if Tim's words are to be believed and Tommy is only the beginner relationship, he's done the math in the wrong formula here because he's accidentally created an endgame character for a temporary arc so obviously, when everything went down, the equation did not match for the audience. They are used to things happening a certain way and a cable tv procedural is not where you expect a subversion of tropes especially when that trope is nowhere near saturation point yet.

[femmehaljordan]

Me again! Thanks for the correction on the man cass broke out of prison, I was not entirely sure.

But i think cass' and by extension the rest of the bats' moral code brings a really interesting juxtaposition to jason's in how selfish it seems in comparison.

Because the whole judge, jury, executioner bit is bullshit, sheer hypocricy at its finest because the idea of vigilante justice is built on acting as a judge, jury and executioner OUTSIDE the bounds of the law. But the bats get to judge, and punish anyone THEY deem worthy, in extreme ways in some cases, baring death which is the much more merciful route sometimes, but not have the GUILT associated with casting that judgement. It also reeks of 'once a criminal, always a criminal' with no opportunity for reform OR understanding and nuance to the circumstances/cause of the crime itself. To them crime is the root problem, whereas to jason, crime is the symptom, the effect of dysfunction within the wider system.

His brand of justice is much more selfless in that regard to me. It places the burden of both guilt and action on him. He bears the role of judge, jury and executioner because there are victims. Because hurt is being caused and he want THAT to be reduced. Not necessarily crime itself, but harm. And he understands that uplifting and doing right by people will reduce crime in turn. To me jason's moral code and character motivation speak to a much more nuaned and empathic understanding of crime than any of the bats.

The extremeism of cass', or the ultimately gross inaction of bruce's moral code hinge wholly on THEIR GUILT and THEIR wellbeing. The lengths they go to to prevent themselves from feeling that guilt is astounding.

I personally don't feel like (in fanon and fanfic especially) Jason should be framed as feeling guilty for killing, or breaking the bats' rule. Because he doesn't. His moral code demands safety, and comfort for the hurt, and he has no problems removing anyone in opposition to that. His lack of guilt and the really interesting point that he includes himself in the collective of victims of both the Joker and Gotham's crime at large, speaks to me to a selflessness that I can't help but admire.

He'll protect them, no matter what it takes. Beacuse he knows no one else will bare that burden. He made the mistake of thinking otherwise already.

-🪼

YES EXACTLY.

Jason including himself in victims of the Joker is soooooo important to his character. Because he IS and he UNDERSTANDS. In ways the others never will. Because they all see themselves a survivors. And the core of Jason’s character is that he DIDN’T. It doesn’t matter that it didn’t stick, that he came back. Because he is a tally in the Joker’s death toll. And he’s able to empathize with other victims because he was there.

It’s sooooo. And it tied into the people that are like “why is Jason always talking about his death? The others have died too”

A) he’s not always talking about it? A lot of the time it’s the others like

B) his death is completely different and you know it

Jason Todd’s victimhood is sooooo important and it needs to be addressed more.

Frankly I find Jason’s moral code much more understandable than Bruce’s or Cass’.

[urinarythreatinfection]

Masterlist

Prompts/Request Rules

Requests: Closed. You can also just talk to me!

💋 Smut ❤️ Fluff 💔 Angst 🔥 Joke 💘 Suggestive 👍 Platonic 👨 Male 👩 Female 👤 Gender Neutral 👶 Child Reader ✏️ Drabble 📃 One Shot 💭 Headcanons 🪧 Scenario 💕 Family 🩸 Violence ✅️ Finished

Shanks

The Cute and Obsessive You 💋🩸👨📃

Your boyfriend is a yandere, but it comes in handy when you're kidnapped (also it's sexy).

Charm You to Jealousy 💋👨📃

Shanks is popular, especially when he's cool, so you may or may not get a bit jealous.

Big spoilers for episode 1112.

Compliments ❤️👨👤✏️

Shanks loves compliments and you give them often.

Lust/Love 🔥👨👤✏️

A few drinks makes you loose-mouthed but you're a quick thinker.

Tomboy Girlfriend ❤️👩💭

Shanks likes drinking and partying, especially with his lover.

A Romantic Date ❤️👤💭

Shanks has many sides, but romance with you always comes naturally.

An Awkward Child 🔥💕👶🪧

Shanks tries his best to get you to socialize.

A Good Liar 🔥👍👤📃

You and Shanks are caught on a day out, thankfully you're good at improvising.

Pretty When You're Mine 💋❤️👨📃

You're a little mean and want to try something new, thankfully your boyfriend is incredibly receptive.

RUFF! ❤️🔥👤🪧

Your boyfriend turns into a dogboy but he's still very cute.

How to Breed Your Captain 💋👨📃

Your captain sudddenly leaves in the middle of drinking, so you gotta find out what happened.

Omegaverse, Shanks has a pussy.

Shoulders 🔥❤️👨🪧

Shanks is tall but not tall enough for a view.

Scent 💋👨✏️

Shanks likes it when you smell like eachother.

Omegaverse, Shanks has a pussy.

Narcissistic Romance ❤️🔥👩✏️💭

You and your new boyfriend happen to look similar.

Scruff ❤️🔥👩👤🪧

Naughty Captains get the puppy treatment.

Birthday Boy ❤️👤📃

Poor Shanks is the only one who remembered his birthday (according to him)

Two Cats ❤️👩✏️

You're a picky and bratty drinker, fortunately Shanks is there to "protect" you.

Eyes. 🩸💔❤️👤📃

You visit your parent in their prison with Shanks.

Wider View 💘👧✏️

An adult store owner has a small encounter with you and Shanks.

Luffy

Kindness Isn't Spineless: Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4 💔❤️👤✅️

Luffy thinks you're too "kind", unknowing of your past traumas with an abusive ex.

A Romantic Date ❤️👤💭

Luffy isn't much of a romantic but he loves to love you.

RUFF! ❤️🔥👤🪧

Being a dogboy only makes Luffy more excited and he's going to make it everyone else's problem.

Thunk 👍🔥👤🪧

Luffy spilled something like a stupidhead.

Shoulders 🔥❤️👨🪧

Luffy reallllyyy wants to see Frankys WIP

Scruff ❤️🔥👩👤🪧

Luffy whines like a puppy so you treat him like one.

Is This Love?: Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six 💔 ❤️ 👨

Confessing to Luffy isn't as sunshine and rainbows as both of you wish it was.

Post Jinbe, Small allusion to Whole Cake, Fishman Island spoilers.

Will You Still Love Me? ❤️🔥👤🪧

You turn into a worm.

You're Here! ❤️🔥👤🪧

You both miss eachother, you're also both on the same wavelength in doing whatever it takes to see eachother sooner.

Zoro

Roots of Suffering 💔❤️🩸👩📃

Pain from severe migraines makes you to be rash, causing more damage than your mind could on its own.

Tomboy Girlfriend ❤️👩💭

You're completely unruly but okay yes he loves you.

RUFF! ❤️🔥👤🪧

He's a little dumb as a dogboy but he's got the spirit.

Thunk 👍🔥👤🪧

Clean your equipment after use, guys.

Why are you two friendly 👍📃

Zoro and Sanji are a lot more tame when they're alone

No reader, just characters.

It's YOURS 👍🔥👤📃

You find Zoro's small mossy lookalikes in a forest and decide to have some fun.

Will You Still Love Me? ❤️🔥👤🪧

You turn into a worm.

You're Here! ❤️🔥👤🪧

He's strong enough to catch you from a cliff, probably.

Sanji

Tomboy Girlfriend ❤️👩💭

Sanji likes to be a gentleman but with you he's more of a gentle man.

Your Love is My Warmth ❤️👤📃

It's a cold night, but together with you he's never felt warmer.

Fun(ny) Halloween 🔥👍👤📃

You don't know what to go as for Halloween, but get inspiration from a certain cook.

Insecure Love 💔❤️👩📃

Misunderstandings from trauma cause pain for you and Sanji as your relationship goes on.

Major spoilers for episode 1053

Thunk 👍🔥👤🪧

Rest is important, idiot.

Shoulders 🔥❤️👨🪧

How'd he get the groceries up there?

OH MY GOD ❤️👍🩸👨📃

Don't walk backwards while hiking on a mountain.

Why are you two friendly 👍📃

Zoro and Sanji are a lot more tame when they're alone

No reader, just characters.

Confusion in my Love ❤️👨📃

Sanji struggles with the fact he's fallen in love with a man.

Medium Fishman Island spoilers.

You're Here! ❤️🔥👤🪧

Being your knight in shining armor didn't prepare him for you jumping off a cliff.

Robin

Thunk 👍🔥👤🪧

Small mistake isn't everything.

Brook

Thunk 👍🔥👤🪧

God, just stop making that joke.

Nami

You're Here! ❤️🔥👤🪧

There's no way you would jump off a cliff just to see her sooner, right?

Usopp

Shoulders 🔥❤️👨🪧

No he doesn't need help but maybe if you gave it he wouldn't decline it.

Crocodile

Reptile Break for the Reptile Broken 🔥✏️

Crocodile is tired, so he visits the bananagators.

Post Crossguild.

Crocodile the Lovestruck (Reptile) Fool ❤️👩💭

You've been with him since Alabasta, and he's starting to think of you as more than a loyal employee.

Post Cross Guild.

Its Good to See the New You 💕💔👨💭

You joined the Strawhats after your father was defeated in alabasta, when you meet again his daughter is now his son.

Small Marineford and Alabasta spoilers.

Mihawk

Boredom and Jokes 🔥 👤✏️

Mihawk's older than you and Buggy thought.

Post Cross Guild.

Mimi Mihawk ❤️👤✏️

Mihawk reads the paper while you give him affection.

Pre-Cross Guild but Post Timeskip

An Awkward Child 🔥💕👶🪧

You aren't really the best at getting along with people, Mihawk doesn't mind.

Pre and Post Cross Guild

Think About It ❤️👩👤📃

He's more oblivious than you thought, by a LOT.

Romantic(?) ❤️👨👤✏️

You're a romantic pervert.

Skating on Thin Ice 🔥👍👤✏️

You tell a dirty joke at Mihawk's expense.

Buggy

Boredom and Jokes 🔥 👤✏️

Mihawk's older than you and Buggy thought.

Post Cross Guild.

Smoker

An Awkward Child 🔥💕👶🪧

Tashigi and you cause a small accident when she tries to teach you something new.

Ace

Love Makes You Crazy 💋❤️👩📃

Ace has convinced you to be bold in more ways than one.

Sabo

You're Here! ❤️🔥👤🪧

If he misses you he should catch you.

[roesworks]

to be treated right.

osamu dazai x female reader

summary : hes going to finish what your boyfriend couldn’t

warnings : nsfw, implied cheating (but they’re doing it safely don’t worry), oral (fem receiving), fingering, p in v, dazai is slightly out of character kind of?

+ aftercare because yes

word count : i’ll count tomorrow

your boyfriend was an absolute greedy bastard.

sex wasn’t fun anymore, your boyfriend ruined it for you. he seemed to always do it for his own personal gain rather than pleasuring you, and that pissed you off more than anything. what the hell did you do to deserve this?

well, the answer to that was nothing, because you weren’t doing anything wrong. your boyfriend was the equivalent of a hookup; he always got to finish, yet you were left there, naked, uncomfortable… you were so tired of it.

not to mention, your boyfriend had a shitty personality as well. how did you fall in love with him in the first place? you really had no idea. you didn’t like him anymore. hell, you pretty much despised him, not just for the sex aspect, but for the fact that he was just a dick.

you found yourself sitting on your bed again, post sex, wet but unable to come. as your boyfriend left your shared apartment to go out with a few friends, you began to sob hysterically, reaching for your phone out of desperation. you needed someone to help you out more than anything, but who were you going to call?

well, there was a man at the establishment you worked at who was absolutely head over heels for you. he knew you had a boyfriend, and he knew that your boyfriend was a terrible person, (he often questioned why a sweet, pretty girl like you was dating an awful, awful man like him) especially since you often came to him about your problems with him. maybe this was the perfect time to give him what he wanted.

osamu dazai was at work when he got your phone call. he smirked, lifting it to his ear.

“good evening, ‘bella-” he frowned as you cried to him over the phone. how shitty of a person can one be to constantly leave your girlfriend alone and uncomfortable?

“please, osamu, i need you so badly right now. it hurts so much, please.”

who was he to deny?

“i’ll be there, ‘bella.” and he hung up the phone. what seemed like less than five minutes later, there was a knock on your door, and footsteps walking towards your bedroom. when he opened the door, there you were: naked, crying, and uncomfortable.

“please, osamu, please,” you mumbled under your breath. his heart crushed at each and every sob that uttered through your poor, pouty lips. osamu leaned in to kiss you, tugging at your hair slightly as he pushed your naked body backwards onto the bed. you tug at his shirt, slipping it over his head, exposing his chest, stomach, and bandaged arms.

his lips went south, to your neck, your breasts, and finally in between your legs. he paused, looking up at you. “and you’re absolutely sure you want me to do this?” he asked. sure, he was absolutely thrilled to be here with you right now, but this could also be a spur of the moment decision on your part. though, you nodded ferociously in response.

“use your words, ‘bella.”

“yes, please i want you to do this, more than anything.” that was all osamu needed to hear. he began to press light kisses inside your thighs, tongue trailing around the inside of your cunt. you whimper at the touch. your boyfriend was no where near as good as he was.

osamu opened your legs wider, sticking two fingers inside of you while he simultaneously ate you out like a hungry dog. you gripped at his hair, the sensation flowing throughout your body. your legs were shaking, tears brimmed your eyes, god it felt so good to be treated right.

“mm osamu, please,” you repeated over and over again, his tongue going faster and faster, “please let me… osamu.”

boy, did he love when you screamed his name.

“yes, ‘bella, come.” legs shaking, you released into his mouth. he took as much as he could, swallowing it, and looking at you with lustful eyes. he crawled back on top of you, his lips pressing to your neck, leaving small lovebites in its wake. “if that bastard won’t mark you up, then i will,” he hushed with certainty against your neck. you weren’t opposed to it at all. frankly, you planned on ending it with him, anyway.

you felt your arms reach for his belt, loosening it and removing it from the loops of his pants. you slid his pants down and threw it on the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes. osamu was left in his underwear that had already formed a tent, and you could feel it against your thigh.

“mm osamu i need it. please.”

he chuckled lightly, bringing his lips to yours. “so needy f’me aren’t you, ‘bella? tell me what you want and i’ll give it to you.” you groaned lightly at his teasing.

“i need your cock, osamu, so badly. i want it more than anything!”

“more than anything, huh?” you agreed with more pleas, tugging at his underwear. he smirked and took them off in response, releasing his cock that flung against his stomach. you grabbed a condom from inside your nightstand, opening it and giving it to him. he rolled it onto his member, and laid back on top of you.

he grabbed your hands and held them above your head as he directed his cock towards your entrance. with no hesitation, he went inside of you. you whined with each thrust. “you feel… fuck… so good, ‘bella,” he said lightly, “you’re doing so well.” you loved his praise so unbelievably much, and each time he called you by that silly pet name, you melted. compared to your boyfriend, osamu was rather loud. you didn’t mind it at all; you preferred it, actually. at least then you didn’t have to question yourself if he was enjoying himself or not.

you continued to moan as he thrusted in and out of you. arms still above your head, he began nipping at your neck again. “i’m close, ‘bella,” he muttered. you whimpered his name in response. “i’m gonna… fuck.” but he didn’t stop. he wanted you to be first. after all, he was here for you.

“me… too…” you stammered out. you clenched your hands into fists, letting out another loud moan. “osamu…” and you felt yourself release. in turn, osamu did as well, stopping suddenly as you finished together. he released your wrists from his grip, and you cupped his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him again. you were so unbelievably grateful for him.

“let me clean you up, bella,” osamu climbed off of your bed and walked to your bathroom to start a bath. approaching you, he picked you up with strong arms and brought you to the bathtub, laying you down.

the water burned against your skin. not in the bad way, but rather a comforting way; a scalding hot bath was exactly what you needed.

“can you join me?” you asked, voice low and hoarse. he smiled and nodded, joining you in the bathtub. you leaned your head against his chest, sighing.

“i’m so grateful for you, you know,” you said softly. “you’re too nice. you didn’t have to come all this way.”

osamu hummed in response. “mm, i had to though. i can’t leave you at home by yourself in this state. it’s not very healthy, if you ask me. i’m doing your shitty boyfriend a favor.”

“i don’t want to be with him anymore.” your eyes began to well with tears. you’ve been with him for over three years. three long years of mistreatment, not just sexually, but emotionally as well. how could you have been so blind? why didn’t you end it with him sooner?

osamu sighed. he grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squirted some on his hands, and began to massage his fingers through your scalp. you sunk into his touch. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, ‘bella. no one’s forcing you to anything. if he’s mistreating you, then don’t bother sticking around. i don’t blame you at all for wanting to leave.”

“i don’t have anywhere to go.”

“you could stay with me-”

“-no i couldn’t possibly put you through all of that trouble.”

you felt him chuckle. “what trouble? all i’m offering is that you stay with me. where’s the harm in that?”

“i just… feel bad, is all.”

“well, don’t feel bad. i won’t let you. although, if you end up feeling so horrible about it, then we can commit a double suicide together. then we’ll both be happy.”

you laughed lightly. “of course, because your motivation in life is finding a beautiful woman to commit suicide with. don’t you have any other morals?”

“mm, morals are more kunikida’s thing.” he grabbed a cup and filled it with the bath water. “close your eyes.” you obeyed, and he dumped the water on your head, white specks of soap dripping down your hair.

“well, you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“and you seem surprised.”

“i didn’t say i wasn’t. i am surprised.”

he grabbed the bottle of conditioner and repeated the process. “i have decently long hair myself, you know. i can take care of hair. i’m not an animal.”

“mm, i guess.”

“hey, if i was an animal, you would still be crying on your bed right now.” you stayed silent as his fingers brushed through your hair, evenly distributing the conditioner. you knew he was joking, but the hard reality of it stung you.

“fine. point taken.” he smiled contently, ridding your hair of knots. “you’re too kind. why can’t he be like you?”

“well, not everyone can be like me, ‘bella. it’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” you chuckled.

“very.” he gestured you to close your eyes, and you did, feeling water pour down your skin again. you stayed in the bath together in comforting silence. sensing that you enjoyed the feeling, he massaged your scalp every so often.

not everyone can be like osamu dazai, sure, but you were so grateful that someone like him existed. compared to your boyfriend, osamu was the nicest person in the world, and even that at times was a stretch.

did you feel guilty for cheating on your boyfriend? well, yeah. you may have cheated, but you’re still a sensible human being. though, did he have it coming? yeah. he did. three long excruciating years of dealing with nothing but heartbreak could do something to a person. with the way he treated you, you wouldn’t be shocked if he cheated on you once or twice. you didn’t really mind, or even care anymore. the only person on your mind was osamu and his kindness.

exiting the bathtub, you wrapped yourself in a towel and threw yourself back on the bed. osamu followed behind, grabbing his clothing and putting it back on his body.

“i should probably get going… i don’t exactly want your boyfriend to see me right now.” you felt yourself wanting to cry. you didn’t want him to leave.

“okay.” you bit back your tears.

he walked up to you, dragging you to a sitting position, and hugged you. “if you wind up ending things with him, let me know, okay?” you nodded. “i won’t let you live on the streets, you hear?” you smiled, laughing lightly.

“okay, i’ll hold you to that, then.”

“good.” he picked up his jacket. “take care.”

you leaned back on your bed, feeling more content than you have in months. maybe breaking up with your boyfriend won’t be so bad. after all, you do have a backup option - an option a hundred times more appealing than your current situation.

[getaapologist]

I shouldn't even request because I'm too much of a creature of habit, but I'll never stop wanting both Geta and Caracalla to get some love (they're touchstarved and desperately need affection)!!!!

A/N: In my writer's block, I tried to write something different. So here's a little Caracalla? I'm not sure how to write him yet, but I just needed to write SOMETHING or I'd lose my mind. I will return to Geta as soon as I can. Hope you get something out of this! Hopefully I will be back to writing your regularly scheduled programming soon.

Copper hair. Seafoam eyes. A wide grin. 

An apology tumbled from your lips. You knew you should not be here. But with the hour so late, surely he should have been asleep. Not in the gardens. No, at night, this was your haven.

And yet.

“Please, don’t mind me,” he spoke, his words both hurried and unhurried at the same time. Like he was scrambling to form thoughts as quickly as he could, as coherently as he could, before he lost them. But he wasn’t used to living his life at anything other than a snail’s pace.

“The hour is late, Emperor,” you noted, asking the question without asking.

There was a flash of something in his eyes. His grin slid wider. 

“Dondus,” he answered. As if that explained everything.

“Emperor?”

He looked up, much higher above, and your eyes followed, a screech announcing the reason for the surprise visitor to the gardens.

“Dondus,” he repeated, clarifying.

“Oh.”

The monkey flitted about, hopping from branch to branch gracefully, at home in the treetops. 

“Sometimes this is what it takes to get Dondus to sleep,” Caracalla explained, taking a few steps forward. “Too cooped up, I guess.”

“I can understand that.” 

You could. It sounded uncomfortably familiar.

“You are also up late…” he said, also asking without asking.

Heat filled your face. Head bowed slightly, your hands squeezed each other before you. “I–It’s too warm in our quarters, Emperor. For me, anyway. I cannot sleep.”

Who am I to burden an Emperor with these small problems?

“Too warm? Do you not have a window?”

Embarrassed, as if you had built the palace yourself, you shook your head ‘no.’

His brows furrowed. Confusion. Indignance.

“It is an interior room,” you added, as if to ease his reaction.

He said nothing more about it, but he was visibly occupied with the information.

Standing there awkwardly, you allowed yourself to look upon him. He wasn’t an intimidating figure, not like his brother, and it added to his unusual charm. He appeared much younger than his brother, despite them being the exact same age. Down to minutes. Minutes that made all the difference, it seemed.

He was cute, in his own way. Like Cupid, youthful and meddlesome. The story of Cupid and Psyche came to mind, but you pushed it away just as quickly. He was an Emperor. Not someone to have daydreams about. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

Embarrassment filled you. You scrambled to piece words together in a way that wouldn’t offend or betray your true line of thinking.

“You are not what I expected.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my brother does his absolute best to portray me as some monster,” he frowned.

Panic, concern. “That is not what I meant, Emperor. I only mean… you are… charming.”

A large smile spread across his face. A glint in his eye. Pink dusting the tops of his cheeks and ears. 

He was blushing.

“What is your name?” 

His question did not frighten you as it could have. He sounded genuinely curious. 

You provided him with your name quietly, cautiously, as if it was some secret. Even as he repeated it, it felt forbidden.

“I imagined you as more of a ‘Luna’ myself,” he admitted. 

Whatever gave him that notion, you couldn’t pretend to know. But it seemed so very Caracalla. 

Glancing up overhead, you could see the moon looming large, bright and full, in the sky. 

“Uh, I am sure you may call me whatever you like, Emperor.”

“Good,” he beamed, approaching you. “What do you do here?”

It felt wrong to be looking upon him, to be holding a conversation like this with an Emperor. But the flicker of excitement that bloomed with each passing second couldn’t be denied.

“I work in the kitchens.”

He brightened at that. “So I have you to thank for our delicious meals?”

You quickly dispelled that notion. “No, no, I am no great cook, Emperor–”

“Caracalla,” he corrected.

“I–what?”

“We are friends by now, surely,” he chuckled. “The ‘Emperor’ stuff is so boring.”

This felt so significant. And yet, it seemed like no big deal to him. As if he were just exercising a preference and not doing away with a layer of formality.

“I, uh, I prepare some ingredients, Caracalla. In the kitchen.”

“A noble task. Someone must. I’m glad it is you.”

Heat fills your face at his warm praise. To feel such a thing is dangerous. Because you will never want it to stop.

Caracalla laughed as Dondus leapt out of the tree and sought purchase on his shoulder, tiny hands grabbing the cloth there tightly. 

“That is our cue, I believe, mea luna. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was also nice meeting you, Caracalla.”

And it was. He was quite different from how you expected, with how his brother fretted over him. Perhaps a little unusual, but you didn’t mind that at all.

“Mea luna,” he smiled, “I’ll keep your secret.”

“My secret, Emperor?”

A wink before he turned, walking out of the gardens.

“Wait, Emperor!” you called out. “What secret?”

You got no answer.

[gregsgoodlookingneighbour]

An unawaited guest

[House x f reader]

( @privatehousesanatomy thanks for motivating me to post it ^^)

Knock knock. A sound from far away. Confused, she opened her eyes. Had that happened in a dream or was the knocking real? Again, this time more indulgent. She reached for the light switch on her bedside lamp and squinted as it lit up. Slowly, she straightened up and walked out of her bedroom, down the hallway towards the front door. As she put one step in front of the other, she tried to wake up. Who would want anything from her this late? Surely midnight had already passed. As she walked past the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of the clock. 01:12. It knocked again. “Yes, yes....,” she mumbled and hurried a little more. When she looked through the peephole, she saw the face of a man. He looked tired, no, exhausted rather. The corridor wasn't exactly flooded with light, so she couldn't see much. But she recognized him and that was enough for her.

House?” she asked, still drowsy, when she had opened the door a crack. “I.... couldn't sleep...and....,” he began, but fell silent again. 'I don't know him like that,' she thought and opened the door wider. She became more and more aware of her tiredness. But she didn't want to turn him away, so she made a brief gesture for him to come in. She closed the door and turned on a small lamp so that she wouldn't be in the dark with him. “Do you want some water?” she asked, not quite knowing how to respond. She took a closer look at him. His face was wet with sweat, his hair drenched. His skin was unusually pale, except for his eyes. They were marked by red circles. He looked exhausted. “Yeah...”

She walked ahead towards the kitchen. Had he been driving or walking? He already had problems with his leg in general, but they seemed to be much worse today.

She opened a cupboard and took out a glass. “With sparkling water or without?” she asked. “Without.” She nodded and poured him a drink from a bottle. He sat down at the table. She put the glass down in front of him before sitting down opposite him. “So - what brings you to me this late?” she asked as she wiped the sleep from her eyes with both index fingers. “You said you were familiar with pain... it's getting worse.” He paused for a moment and let his gaze wander around the kitchen for a moment before he looked her in the eye again. “I... am in withdrawal and I need help.” His voice sounded brittle. She instantly felt a little more awake. That was completely out of character. House was asking for help. She would have rather bet that Christmas and Easter fell on the same day than hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Have you tried heat?” He nodded. “I don't think I can sit in the bath for long, unless I get webbed feet.” To emphasize his point, he stretched out his hands and looked at them. There it was again - his sarcasm. Inwardly, she sighed with relief. “I think I know something,” she said and stood up. She pulled a cherry stone pillow out of a drawer and put it in the microwave. She pressed the buttons and wandered off into her thoughts again. She couldn't let him drive or leave like this. “Wait here,” she said and left the kitchen. He would probably inspect her kitchen more now to find out more about her. He always wanted to know everything so that he could predict everything. She was too tired to stop him.

In the living room, she unfolded the sofa bed and covered it with fresh bedding. After laying out a pillow and a blanket, she returned to the kitchen. He was sitting - neither as she had expected nor in his place. The glass in front of him, now empty, had been looked at by him for a while. She took the grain pillow out of the microwave and wrapped it in a fresh kitchen towel so that it wasn't too hot. “I've covered the couch for you. Come with me,” she said and went back into the living room. He followed her. He also seemed to be tired, because his cane kicking was irregular and slow. He finally sat down on the couch she had covered. “I could also massage your leg, that would probably help you for a few more moments,” she said. After she had said the sentence, she wanted to slap herself. What a stupid phrase. She really was tired.

He nodded and began to undress. Out of embarrassment and because she didn't know what else to do, she turned away for a moment. Instead of getting a stupid comment, however, she heard nothing but the sliding down of fabric. When she turned back around, his pants lay folded up with his jacket on the floor. In the dim light of the lamp, she could now see his leg better. Where there had once been a muscle, in his right leg, just above his knee, was the scar. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, because she also knew what it was like to be stared at because you were different, so she knelt down in front of him without comment. She carefully touched his leg and began to massage around the area. Since he didn't talk back and she knew that stroking wouldn't help, she applied more pressure after a while. She looked up briefly to check that he was all right. His eyes were closed and his mouth was ajar. “That feels good....” fell from his lips.

Smiling slightly, she looked at the leg again and continued. She felt every fiber of his skin and wondered how he was taking care of his leg. He was probably just rubbing it, because she couldn't feel that he was letting his surrounding tissue relax more often, in short: his leg was as hard as a rock. Somehow that didn't surprise her, as he had become dependent on Vicodin due to the pain, but she still wished he had at least tried to give his body more rest more often and not in the form of not being in pain, but in the form of relaxation - not in a sexual way.

Once she felt that his leg had relaxed a little more, she stopped. “Lie down now,” she said gently and stood up again. “Too bad, I thought that since I already had you down there, we'd move on to the interesting part,” he remarked, looking her in the eye. A tired smirk graced her lips, but she reached for the pillow and gave it to him. “Good night,” she murmured and wanted to leave, but he held her by the wrist. “Lie down with me.” She sighed. “This isn't going to end well. You know that.” “I won't do anything either. I swear to the Indians,” he said and lay down. He had placed the grain pillow on his leg.

She could feel the tiredness gnawing at her, barely allowing her to stand, so she gave in. It would only be this one time that she lay down next to him, she swore to herself. As she lay next to him, she felt as if she was being pressed into the cushions by a heavy weight. “How's your leg?” she asked. She could feel how difficult it was for her to speak. She was about to fall asleep. “Better. Thanks” he murmured. She closed her eyes. She could feel him looking at her now, but she was too tired to say anything back. The last thing she felt before she fell asleep was the steady breathing next to her. A slight smile crept onto her lips.

[fandomtrumpshate]

Please don't break containment

Yes, we saw! Neil Gaiman posted about us!

That is going to make a LOT more people on Tumblr aware of the auction. The prospect of reaching a wider swath of fandom is great, and we appreciate the good intentions in asking Mr. Gaiman to boost us.

However.

That's on Tumblr. People following Neil Gaiman on Tumblr. Which is going to be mostly fandom people to start with.

Please do not contact celebrities or media creators about FTH on Twitter/X or any other social media.

Why? Don't we want all the publicity we can get?

Well, within fandom spaces, yes. The problem is that if we get too much attention outside of fandom spaces, that's going to attract trolls. People who think it's hilarious that anyone writes fic in the first place, people who look at some of our listings for explicit content and pass judgment, possibly people who are bigoted and just look at the fact that we have so many people offering queer ships and pass judgment.

That could result in abuse of our system and harassment of our creators and mods.

So please, please. Keep your FTH love within fandom spaces. Yes, there are fandom communities on other social media - that's why we have Twitter and Bluesky accounts! But there are also comparatively more non-fandom communities in those spaces as well, and a tweet that gets a celebrity's attention can spread so, so quickly to people whose attention we'd rather not have.

We super appreciate Mr. Gaiman's support for the amazing non-profits we feature, who are doing great work! And thank you to the greater FTH community for caring so passionately about our causes.

But our main priority — yes, even more important to us than raising money for good causes — is connecting and supporting the folks who are already participating. That’s all of you who are already here, and the fandom friends whom you recruit. And when someone very famous starts boosting us, there is the real potential for the scope of the auction to expand well beyond that circle of care very quickly.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hi! so i read your post on percy as the minister of magic and i definitely understand your point of view. i'm curious who you think would be a good minister of magic?

(Referring to this post about Percy as the minister)

The honest answer, I don't think any of them is an ideal minister. At least, not anyone I could think of. If you can take the Golden Trio and make them a minister together like some Roman Trimuvirate, we have something we could work with:

Like, Harry got the charisma, the fame, he draws attention and would be brilliant at telling people to shut the fuck up in the sassiest way possible. When tough things happen, and things get stressful, Harry keeps his calm and keep them moving forward. Plus, he has great instincts.

The thing is, Harry doesn't really care about the bigger system or politics at all. He'd find Wizengamot frustrating and dull, and wouldn't want anything to do with them unless he felt responsible to put in the effort (which he would if he were put in the position). But, like, it won't be something he wants to do. He doesn't have a passion for it.

Ron is more realistic and strategic and is best at looking at the wider situation and its consequences. He is also the most connected with the Wizarding World itself and the culture there. He is the trio's insider, who knows the culture like a native. He is more concerned with the system at large than Harry. He isn't a great liar, but he is strategic and can stay calm under pressure. And Ron post-war is more charismatic than we give him credit for, I think. (And he's the most hinged, emotionally balanced member of the trio, which is very important when dealing with other important people you want to cooperate with you). And, yes, he's lazy about school work, but when he needs to research something, all three of the Golden Trio sit their asses in the library and research when they need to. Hermione just enjoys it.

And Hermione is brilliant at research and bureaucracy. She can get things done, and Ron and Harry would mitigate her idealism. Hermione is very "my way or the highway" and can cause people who agree with her to not want her in charge. While something needs to be done regarding the house elves, her approach ends up offending the house elves she is trying to help instead of getting them to support her (which I think is possible with the right approach). What I'm saying is Hermione is not that subtle or that good of a liar and would struggle navigating the less obvious sides of politics, especially if she'd need to think fast. Hermione is good when she has time to plan, not so much when she is panicking and needs to think on her feet (that's when Harry's in his element).

But, basically, Hermione would get things done, Harry would lead people, and Ron would mitigate both of them, remind them of the reality they live in, and make the whole dynamic work. So, the golden trio together, as a unit, would be a pretty good option (from the ones we have).

Though, writing all the above made me think that Ron, as minister with Hermione helping him out with research and such, and Harry backing him, is slept on in this fandom. I think it could work. (Plus, he'd want it more than Harry would be happy without more attention)

I think Kingsley isn't a bad choice for a minister. I think he would do an alright job, all in all. He's realistic, cool under pressure, charismatic, and knows how to work within the limits of the ministry well. My only problem with him as minister would be that he'd stick pretty closely to the existing ministry's status quo. He does remove the dementors from Azkaban and probably improves the state of muggleborns, but, unfortunately, the wizarding world needs more than that. (Not to mention the anti-Slytherin sentiment that seems to be present in the epilogue spells another dark lord in the near future)

Amelia Bones would probably be pretty similar to Kingsley as a Minister of Magic, tbh. She'd just, realistic, cool under pressure, but probably not see the deeper problems in the very system she works in.

Couldn't really think of anyone else when writing this, but if you think I forgot someone obvious, tell me.

[levvthan]

his apprentice. | dottore x m! reader

NSFW CONTENT BELOW - MDNI

words: 8,308

summary: "Terms and conditions, page 6." He took a brief moment to peer back down at you, grin wider than ever. "I acknowledge and consent to any assignments prepared by Il Dottore which may involve living organisms, such as humans, animals or oneself will be seen through and finalised."

By the Tsaritsa's orders, not much to Dottore's liking, you where sent to work under his wing acting as his apprentice.

!! content: masochism, pain, oral sex, anal sex, multiple orgasms, smut, recorded sex, mentions of needles, razors, self-harm

"Scalpel." Dottore asked you to hand him the blade on the metal tray you grasped in your hands.

Deep in concentration, he was working on a patient, a deceased patient with perfect organs to be specific. Unfortunately, 046 had only recently passed away due to... a 'self-injury'. At least, that's what it said on paper. It wasn't in Dottore's best interest to allow the other harbingers, and of course the fair Tsaritsa herself, catch wind that his patients where committing suicide. There's no problem in bending the truth, right? As a result, he noted on his documents that the patient had suffered from a grave wound, and that 046 where ruined goods who needed to be put down. And of course, he did not fail to mention that the patient where now to be farmed for there organs. 

You on the other hand, also shared a significant interest in science with the Doctor. Had already been affiliated with the Fatui for a while, you'd finally gained the Tsaritsa's attention. Aside from your usual duties acting as a informant, experimenting with chemicals and whatnot on the side became one of your most profound hobbies. The Tsaritsa became so fascinated with your work that she ordered you to work under Dottore's wing, acting as his apprentice. Though with this being said, Biology was not your strong suit. Yes, you where intelligent but never made it far enough to practice in more of a professional setting. Even so, you where indeed captivated by the human body, how it works, its functions and even death. This was the perfect opportunity for you to extend your knowledge, able to watch Dottore's sleigh of hand work away at the carcass.

"I won't ask you again. Scalpel, now." Dottore promptly clicked his fingers, ushering you to concentrate on his face when he leaned up. Blood painted his frame, head to torso. The only thing keeping his face clean was the flimsy surgical mask he was wearing, he tore it down below his chin - his stance telling you that he was irritated. It seemed that you did that a lot actually.

"Hmm.. are you sure? Wouldn't a larger blade prove beneficial?" 

"Who are you to question me?" His voice raised as it bounced off of the labs walls, yet you didn't flinch, you didn't even move, you remained stoic with a raised eyebrow as you did as he instructed. This particularly bothered him, not the handing of the tool but how unbothered you where. Silently judging him. Not even intimidated by his presence. By all means, he never wanted an apprentice or an assistant though he could not refuse the Tsaritsa's orders. Deep down it had damaged his ego, but that was to not ever be revealed. 

"You really do get on my fucking nerves." Dottore grimaced, raising his medical mask with scalpel now in his hand. He turned back to his patient, only just to turn again to face you.

Archons, you really knew how to get under his skin. There where a lot of ways on how you did it, you never made conversation unless the topic was something snide. Never even defending yourself when he'd call you every name under Teyvats sun. If you where to put your finger on it, what irritated Dottore the most was the fact that he couldn't distinguish if you really where just an irritating asshole, or if it was just a facade you put on just to displease him.

"My apologies, sir. May you care to explain? I'm not sure how I have annoyed you." An innocent question really, raising an eyebrow and tipping your head at an angle.

To be quite frank, he was stunned that you had talked back to him. Though he knew he shouldn't be as it was practically the norm with you now. But he hadn't grown used to it, he always made sure he had the final word with everyone. But with you, it was more complicated. You loved to snap back, to push him further. Shifting his gaze to glare at you with his piercing eyes, hand on his hip as he ripped off his mask this time and balled it in his fist.

"You love this don't you? You absolutely adore testing my patience!"

Of course you where aware of what you where doing, you made him seethe but his reactions always amused you as per usual.

"Doctor, I am now merely just observing you work and asking questions." A sly smile formed on your face, absolutely irking him.

The Doctor huffed, that was it, he was done with you for the day. Instructing one of his clones to fill in and tutor you other than himself, so that he could retreat to his other duties aside from dealing with you for the day. Archons, if you could laugh as hard as ever right then you would of. He looked borderline enraged. Who where you to come down here under his will, and irritate him to the point where he couldn't even concentrate? A thorn in his side, a distraction to his work. Yet despite his complaints, the Tsaritsa firmly insisted he was to tutor you as long as deemed fit.

"May I remind you that Tsaritsa did mention that you where the only one eligible to tutor me, not your clones." You observed as he removed his surgical gloves, the rubber slapping together as he snapped them off as it filled the thick silence. He brought his fingers to pierce his bridge atop his nose, jaw forcefully clenched. 

"Confirm just one thing for me first, L/N." Dottore sighed raising a finger, "Do you achieve anything by witnessing my frustration with you?"

"The only thing I'd like to achieve is success. By being your apprentice I'll be able to do this, surely?" 

A strain of curses left Dottore's mouth. Watching his every twitch of annoyance as he marched away, the tall wooden doors what lead from the lab to a corridor where shoved open as quickly as they had slammed shut. Though it wasn't a bother, it just proved your point that he was unstable. Success. With your tutoring session being cut short perhaps it was time to turn in for the night, you had been watching him hack away at that carcass for a while now anyway.

The room you had been allocated wasn't too far from Dottore's personal chambers actually, given that the building was massive. Plus, the space was pretty nice. Fancy patterns where engraved into the wood panelling along the walls, a cold hue of many different shades of blue resembling Snezhnaya and it's snowy plains. You had made some minor adjustments though, some houseplants and a small work station setup in the corner. Not to mention, your bed was extra comfortable with multiple fluffy blankets and feathered pillows. In the night, when it was extra cold, you had no need for a heater when cuddling up underneath your duvet would suffice.

You closed the door behind you, taking off your shoes as to not get the floor dirty. Sighing as you finally had some privacy, it was time to unwind as you grabbed a few towels and a bottle of your favourite wine. One of Dottore's clones, Zander to be specific, had gifted it you the other day - knowing it was your favourite. You had grown accustomed to living like this for the past three months, it was luxurious to say the least. Not only did you have a expensive bedroom, but also your own en-suit.

As you went to run your bath, your mind lingered on the former conflicts you've experienced with Dottore. You only but giggled when you recalled the horrifying look on his face when the Tsaritsa had first informed him of her plans. To say the topic pissed him off was an understatement, his whines and complaint where like music to your ears. It was funny really, you loved seeing him all worked up and irked by your presence. That man was smug, a know it all. The satisfaction was empowering to you really, knowing you could go as far as you liked and he couldn't even do anything about it. 'Oh I was just asking a question Doctor', 'My apologies if I have upset you, Doctor', 'Being my tutor I thought you'd have more patience with me.'.

Bubbles and steam began to rise within the bathtub which was when you undressed yourself, setting your glass of wine to the side. Wandering over to the mirror, you dropped your shirt onto the bathrooms chilly floor. Gazing at your figure, your finger traced the scars on your chest, eyes peering down at the smaller ones coating your thighs. All in places where no one could see, having a particularly nasty one just beneath your peck. You wondered what Dottore would say if he saw them. There where too many to claim that they where battle scars, including the placement seemed far too calculated. Would he be concerned? Would he comfort you? Though, you didn't harm yourself because you where sad. In fact, you loved pain. Just a little cut, bruise or even a harsh squeeze when you touched yourself at night was enough to make you cum. Perhaps, tonight was one of those nights.

Settling in your hot bath, you hadn't failed to bring a little tool along with your wine in order to make your evening alone more pleasurable. A small, light incision was made on your chest. Hand already wrapped around your hard cock, you began to stroke yourself gently. Teasing, your mind wandered back to Dottore. The way his brows furrowed as he worked, the way his hands moved so elegantly, the way he shouted at you and called you horrible names. All his failed attempted to make you feel like shit, his words unknowingly fuelled your desire for him. Replaying your thoughts as if it was a movie, your hand worked faster as you pictured that he was the one tugging on your cock. You thought about what he would say if he where to find out you where touching yourself, imagining him nude as he loomed over your smaller frame. He would definitely laugh at you, calling you a pathetic whore while degrading you further. Faint whines and whimpers passed between your lips, your face became flushed as you pressed down harshly on the open wound you had inflicted on yourself moments prior. You moaned out his name as he still lingered on your mind as you reached your high. Cum painting your chest, you let out a shaky breath before sinking lower into the warmth of the bath. 

With that being done, you cleaned yourself off promptly after relaxing for a little while longer and finishing off your wine. It tasted unusual to say the least, a slightly sour aftertaste. Swirling the glass, you peered down at the remaining drops filling it. Strange, it usually tasted rich and tannic. Had that bastards clone gifted you stale wine? But how could that even be possible, unless the bottle had been opened beforehand?

There wasn't much else to do other than take yourself to bed and ponder, skin now soft, you began to feel rather sluggish. Silk button up pyjamas, your feet touched the icy wooden floor as you went to turn the light off. Room now dark, the only source of light was the moonlight what loomed through the window. Your mind still remained on Dottore and the wine, though they kept traveling further and... further away until it was submerged by fog.

Thud. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, a singular bright white light strained your eyes as you where abruptly awoke by having water pour down your face. The last thing you had remembered was... well fainting. Your eyes puffy, head pounding, you where in a stone cold room where Dottore normally practiced on his patients. When did you get here? Struggling, you realised your arms and legs had been restrained as you lied on top of a hard mattress. How many hours had it been? In a daze, your sluggish mind attempted to recall the events of the moments before you fell asleep, but there was nothing to remember. 

"How was your sleep, hm?" Dottore hummed, clipboard in hand. "You've been out for a while now. Seems like that wine really did the trick."

Remaining silent, his footsteps echoed as he positioned himself behind your head. You attempted to move, turning your head until you winced at a sharp pain. Bastard, you knew not him nor his damned clones where to be trusted, but a bottle of Mondstat's finest alcohol was all too tempting. All you could do was watch his calculated movements as you wriggled under the restraints. You went to curse at him, only to be denied when you noticed a cloth covering your mouth. Biting down in attempt to discard it, it was tightly fastened around your head - thus struggling was no use.

"What's wrong F/N?" He cooed as he leant down to face you, his gloved hands holding your head in place. You where truly stuck in Dottore's grasp as he loomed over you. Gazing up, he had taken off of his mask and placed it on a nearby tray. His eyes met yours, staring into your own with anticipation.

"I really should not be doing this to my dear apprentice." Taking a step back, he chuckled as he trotted along with his speech, "Though it was all too easy, I guess I just cant help myself."

By all means, it'd been common knowledge that you had a knack for being snide. You where more than aware at how it made him tick, perhaps your insufferable comments had finally pushed him too far. But you could appreciate his dedication, this was a new low - even for him. Lacing that wine with whatever he had put in it. As sadistic as he is, you'd never imagined that he would do something as crude as to drug you and strap you down to a surgical bed, like a patient. The Tsaritsa gave him strict rules and boundaries preventing him from laying a finger on you, yet he was defying the Cryo goddess herself. Yet again, you aren't one to lie about having fantasied about something like this before. But it was all too real for your liking, so it seemed.

A piercing scrape echoed through out the stone cold room. Dottore had prepared a selection of utensils what sat neatly on his metal tray. Setting them down beside you and taking his long fluffy coat off, it appeared to you that he was prepping for... an experiment. Watching intensely as he gracefully twirled a scalpel in his hand, you eyed yourself in it's reflection as he positioned it over your eyes. Though you weren't fazed, you knew he couldn't do anything to you without putting himself in a vulnerable position with the Tsaritsa.

"So, F/N. How do you like it, working for me?" He tipped his head in curiosity, allowing you to answer by removing the cloth from your mouth.

"Dottore you fucking-" Slap.

His cold hand had crossed your face, leaving you utterly stunned in shock. It felt as if he had been preparing that one for a while now. Wincing, he stuffed the cloth back into your mouth much deeper this time. Practically choking on the wrenched thing, wide eyes peering up at his shit eating grin. Oh yes, he was enjoying this already.

"I thought you would've been more cautious, the wine was a gift from Zander after all." He tutted, his icy fingertips stroking your chin as he observed how your brows knitted together. "Who knew you where such a sucker for liquor?" 

You didn't want to hear his ramble, yet that was the only thing you could do. He shuffled to the side, paper tray what'd been set to the side no longer remaining idle. He took the first page on his stack, eyes narrowing when you realised it turned out to be the contract you had signed months prior. Clearing his throat, his finger hovered beneath a sentence. It was hard to read from the angle you where positioned at, yet the inking was rather small so you would've struggled to read it even if you where sitting the right way up. 

"Terms and conditions, page 6." He took a brief moment to peer back down at you, his stance confident which was not a good sign at all. "I acknowledge and consent to any assignments prepared by Il Dottore which may involve living organisms, such as humans, animals or oneself will be seen through and finalised."

Gut wrenching dread turned you pale. Putting the emphasis on 'oneself', how in the hells did you miss that? A satisfying chuckle from him did not soothe your anxieties as he found glory in your disturbed expression, he knew exactly what you where thinking. His voice grew deep, his cold breath hitting your neck when he leaned down ever so closer to your skin. "Looks like someone isn't as insightful they claim they are." 

"Now, we shall begin! Unless you don't want to?" Dottore asked sincerely, taking your silence as consent knowing you couldn't respond anyway. "Oh! And I will be recording this by the way, you know the drill by now, having to document these experiment of ours for the fair lady." Directing your attention to the already setup camera atop a tripod to your left.

All he did was take in the expression you held. Full of dread, you'd seen him work before and it was far from anything pretty - he was going to torture you and he even had the audacity to record it. Did he really just want to make you suffer? To kill you? No, he could've done that already by now according to that wrenched contract. 

"I never knew you had such wonderful soft skin." He hummed in approval, raising your sleeves leaving your arms bare as the cold nipped away at them.

Your breath hitched as you felt his gloved fingers run from your wrist to your bicep. All you could do was stare forward, the glaring white light dazzled your eyes but it was far better than giving Dottore the satisfaction on watching his movements. His touch shockingly moved to something more harsh, prodding and squeezing the fat and muscle on your arm. You didn't want to admit that you where actually enjoying this, it'd been a long time since someone had touched you in this manner. 

"Now, I'm going to take a sample of your blood." Already a syringe in Dottore's hand, he tapped the tip as you took a deep breath. "No need to be tense F/N, all you need to do is relax." 

Not even giving you a warning, your eyes twitched as you felt the long needle cut through your skin. Though you couldn't help but direct your attention to watch. The syringe turned crimson, as it slowly drained blood from your arm. Meanwhile, Dottore was having his own fun watching you timidly squirm. It humoured him really, you'd been so sly - a know it all since the day you first met. Yet, now here you where caged in his grasp. He finally had you just where he wanted.

He raised the syringe from your arm, back onto his tray where he wrapped it in a small plastic bag. A small sigh escaped his lips when he stood up, only for you to tense again as his hands travelled to unbutton your shirt. Gloved hands fumbling with the buttons, the cold now nipping away at your chest rather than your arms. Torso littered with scars, your wrists where so soft yet your chest looked wicked. Shivering under Dottore's touch, watching intensely as the words you had to say remained muffled. Though it intrigued Dottore, he allowed you to speak by removing the cloth.

"What are you going to do to me?" Attempting to redirect his attention with strained breath and questions, chest rising when he retrieved a scalpel. 

Your weary tone had surprised the sadistic man stood over you, a deep callous laugh. He had only ever heard you speak in a plain manner, now he was getting somewhere. 

"Just making a few observations." He hummed, "Say, where did you get all these scars from?"

Removing his glove Dottore slowly traced the thin open wound with his slender finger you'd made yesterday, scarlet coating his fingertip as he reopened it. With anticipation, you gazed as he unexpectedly popped it into his mouth. The unexpected action left you with another surprise, blood rushing to your cock as the sense of arousal began to flow through your body. Tongue swirling while the copper taste flooded his mouth, of course he had taken note of your change in attitude. With a pop he released his finger from his mouth, a trail of saliva dribbled down his hand. 

"Would you look at that... my theory was correct all along." His voice low, deeper than you'd ever heard. Drawn out breaths, his hand made it's way closer to your pelvis.

The smug smile on his face made you want to scream, but you couldn't help but find yourself wanting to discover what was next to come. 

"Surely, you wouldn't mind? It's apart of my experiment after all." Finger hovering over the waistline of the bottom half to your nightwear. 

The pit of your stomach burned as you longed for his touch already. It was that your lust had been captured by him, touching yourself every night could never satisfy you to the fullest. No amount of fingers on your hands stuffed inside you could ever guide you astray from the true needs of wanting his cock. Yes, he knew your dirty secret, he'd known it all along. He had just been preparing for the right time to strike, the moment you where most vulnerable.

He pulled your silk pants down, your growing tent now visible in your undergarments. Dottore's crimson eyes only took but a glance, before meeting your own. 

"And only days ago you where claiming I was the sadistic one." He humiliated you, how pathetic you where under his touch. 

Your muffled whines didn't fall on deaf ears, though he kept the cloth in your mouth knowing your speech weren't to be trusted. Tugging your nightwear fully off, your body had been exposed. How twisted, his apprentice now nude beneath him with only underwear covering your most private areas. Observing the additional scarring what coated your thighs, Dottore bit his lip ever so slightly before giving one a brief squeeze. He felt how tender you where, prodding and poking with his slender fingers further as pre-cum stained the cloth covering your cock. You could've came there on the spot, face now red you never knew how much you'd wanted this.

"I've heard you, countless of times in that bathroom of yours. This place may be fancy but the walls are... rather thin." He dipped his head down to your neck, your breath hitching as his surrounded you with warmth. 

A small yet enticing lick, then nibble, until his lips sucked a sweet love bite into your neck. The next one was not so soft, much to your liking, making you whimper as you twitched under his touch. He didn't stop there, he coated your neck and collarbones until they where purple. Until you thought he was finished, he teased a dreary breath, a forceful bite as his teeth snagged at your delicate skin sent you into a paralysis of shock - eyes rolling backwards. Your cock straining, as a long interlude of whines escaped your mouth - muffled by the cloth. The warm sensation, hot and sticky, soiled your undergarments as you fell limp. Dottore only but slowly adjusted himself to observe the unexpected mess you had made, fascinating. 

"Hmm." Pondering, he stripped you of his touch as he retrieved his clipboard. "Subject is most definitely a masochist." The jotting of his pen and his slow breaths made you turn to face him, recovering from your high whilst gazing up at his frame. He finally set it to aside, before then going to remove the cloth what was now drenched in your saliva.

Dottore had half expected you to hurl harsh words at him, though to his surprise you had none to share. You only panted, licking your chin in attempted to recollect strayed spit. Sharing a short lived stare into each others eyes, the signs where already there. You both knew it, your half lidded eyes with your tent already pitched after a small breather.

"Oh, you're a dirty little thing aren't you?" He let out a length chuckle, which you adored as it sent lustful shivers down your spine. "Are you sure you haven't humiliated yourself enough already? This video is going to be reviewed by the Tsaritsa after all."

Eager nods, fully submit. With all due respect, damn the Tsaritsa. You where enjoying this far too much now, what's the harm in experimenting a little further? 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Your eager nods had not gone unnoticed, though Dottore couldn't but help chuckle at the state of you. Who knew you could be persuaded this easily? Only your tutor of course, he wasn't one to be toyed with and you had clearly been too naïve to realise. Now he has you wrapped around his finger, fully submit underneath his will. 

"Tell me, F/N, why did you really want to work down here? Far far away from civilisation, surely there's more to it." Dottore lingered around you, observing your withering state. "There's far more efficient courses above land, such as the Sumeru's Akademiya, or maybe even Liyue."

A genuine question really, and it made sense. Though, wasn't it obvious?

"I... I want to work... here, with you." Hitching breath, dreary eyelids, your answer peaked his interest. 

"And why is that?" He was only but a fraction away from your face, looming over you as stray azure hairs fell from the tuck behind his ears. His hot, soft breaths only inches away leaving you longing for him to grow closer.  

A momentary pause, you weren't sure if you should reveal your secret. Even though Dottore already knew, and had known for quite some time by now, it was all still embarrassing to put into words. Your face flushed, cheeks rosy as the soil in your pants earlier began to dribble. Dottore was growing impatient, he wanted to hear it in your own words, he needed nothing but for you to spill the truth he already knew. The Tsaritsa needed to know what a filthy whore you where, the one filthy whore she had became so fascinated with as of late. Grabbing you by the jaw, you clenched as he had forced you to sit up. His grip was harsh and controlling. A soft moan escaped your lips making his brows furrow, not that it was to his disliking though.

"Answer me." Dottore detested against your dreary silence, his eyes pierced into your own - a mixture of lust and dominance. The truth was he wanted you as much as you wanted him, but there was only one way he could allow himself. He could never let himself be perceived as needy, as wanting to for fill his pleasures, he needed you to give him an excuse. The grip he had on your jaw made its way down to your throat, your breath unsteady as you felt his grip become ever so heavier. 

"I..." Teasing with your words, even when you're trapped in his grasp you still managed to make him tick. You didn't fail to notice his eye twitching as he bit his lip in anticipation for your words, "I need for you to fuck me, Dottore." 

That was it, your consent had been given and there was now going back. Dottore had finally become undone, a low growl could be faintly heard as he slammed you back to lie down. Wincing, you watched as his movements grew more aggressive rather than elegant and taunt. Still being restrained you couldn't do much but watch as he unbuttoned his dark blue shirt in a rough manor. Chest hairs matching the colour what lied on his head, complimented by a faint snail trail leading down to his obvious bulge. He where a lot more buff that you'd imagined, his waist a lot more synched too as his belt hung loosely from his hips. The sight of his torso alone where enough to make you hard again, your eyes danced as you took in the sight of him. 

Dottore took a mental note of how you admired him, it prompted his cock to grow stiffer as his fingers grew closer to the buckle of his belt. He fumbled with it shortly, his slender fingers slowly but surely teasing you as you watched. That was until, he had an idea. He stopped in his tracks. You where practically throbbing, foaming at the mouth even, his change in direction startled you. Fishing something out of his pocket, a key. Not just any key, a key to the restraints wrapped around your wrists and ankles. Oh, if this weren't already getting good. 

"I trust you won't do anything stupid." Dottore muttered, keys chiming as you excitedly waited for your release. "Don't make me regret this."

Rubbing your wrists, peering down at your red ankles, you sat up as you turned to face Dottore. He relaxed his hand on the edge of the bed, his spare one hovered over your thigh as it palmed your crotch. His piercing eyes peering up at your own. It was as if he where waiting for something, something only you could deliver. A kiss, more of a peck really is what it'd been. But he abruptly tore his lips away from yours, strange. It seemed he wanted to kiss you, and more than just briefly. But the thought of such an intimate act would be crossing a line in his book - he hesitated.

"Nuh uh, that won't do." Your voice now capturing Dottores ears, sounding a lot more confident now you weren't restrained. Was that a good idea? It made him shiver to be quite frank, the way your finger had directed his face back in front of your own, "Let's give that another try." Dottore looked perplexed at first, but was shortly amused by your sudden dominance. 

Lips clashing together softly, you held the back of his head this time - soft silky hair in your palm. He tasted sickly sweet, a taste no one would ever had guessed. Lips only slightly chapped, yet still finding yourself satisfied with the way he leaned into your touch. It was one of the most passionate kisses you had ever given. Your lips danced together in harmony, your tongue asking for permission to enter his mouth. Soft grunts from Dottore turned you dreary, he was practically melting. This man had strapped you down, drugged you, even got you to cum without touching your cock once, yet here he is groaning as your tongue coated itself in his own saliva.

You had expected him to scold you for being so cocky this soon but he where enjoying it far too much. Perhaps he was a sucker for kisses? While he was distracted with the passionate moment you both where sharing, your hand sneakily travelled to his waist. Gripping him lightly at first, the moan he let out prompted you to tug him closer as you swerved around on your bottom, so that he where stood in-between your legs as you where perched on the surgery table. Not breaking the kiss once, your thumbs rubbed circles on his pelvis. Dottores tongue now finding its was into your own mouth, he took back his dominance over you far too easily. You whimpered as you felt his hands fall on top of your own, guiding them towards his belt buckle. Already feeling the heat from his clothed tent, the fact you where so close to his cock made you harshly bite down on your lip. 

"What are you waiting for?" Dottore purred against your neck, his breath hot and heavy as you drew the faintest bit of blood. 

Fingers fumbling with the buckle, you finally had a grasp on his zipper. Slowly tugging it down, wanting this moment to last forever. All that remained now was his underwear sheathing his dick, it was right there in your grasp, your needy finger went to tug at the waistband until the unexpected nip Dottore made at your neck caught you off guard. It where already bruised from the session beforehand, making you wince as you lost track at what your hands where doing. 

"Ngh, that hurts." Whining, you earned a chuckle of approval from the man above you. 

"Oh? And isn't that what you like?" He questioned before biting down even harder.

"Mhm..." Was all you could answer as he worked away from your neck, lower and lower down to your chest. You where practically purple by the time he had finished, his lips travelling leaving a prompt nip upon your jawline. 

His teasing and torment made the want of acting on your whims build up, you wanted - no needed to go a step further. Dottore on the other hand wanted it slow, he was to take the lead, but you had other plans. You hadn't agreed to a mere make out session, you lusted for pure intimacy between the two of you. Thus you becoming reckless, growing impatient. 

The position you where in granted you easy access in wrapping your legs around his hips, encasing him in your grasp. Caught off guard Dottore grunted as he fell into you, unexpectedly realising you where quick to fish your fingers into his underwear. Feeling his hard cock twitch as you examined it with your touch, the warmth seized the coldness of your own hand. It felt good, far too good, your hand wrapped around his length as your idle fingers swiftly tugged down his waistband. Dottore on the other hand was shocked, but not surprised. It was common knowledge you where devious, but he hadn't expected you to wield the confidence in taking over so quickly. 

His hands what laid behind you prompted his body from tumbling on top your own, glancing up his face only centimetres away from your own. He took in your distracted expression, sensing the impulse you held. Though the way you acted so eagerly, driven by the crave you had for his presence, made him want the same just as much. You where spontaneous, rude, snide, it was all clear to him now that it wasn't annoyance what made him seethe over you. It was sexual tension - what you had purposefully created. All the times you had 'dropped something' and bent over, ass up in all its glory for him to witness. The way you would gracefully twirl your wine glass, giving him a shameless wink. Even the things you'd do to yourself in the bathroom, calling out his name - though you hadn't planned on him knowing about this one. Dottore was done with your little games, he where now to be in charge of the tension, if you wanted to fuck then he would most defiantly fuck.

Your hand still being wrapped around his aching cock, his underwear now wrapped around his thighs beneath his balls. Beginning to pump him but failing to notice his change in stance. 

"Eager little thing!" Dottore scolded you, his hand coming into contact with your face once again - leaving a harsh red mark. 

Squirming at the sting the impact left, you hadn't expected him to detest your sudden shift in confidence being too caught up in your desires. It turned you on all the bit more, Dottore learnt not to be dissatisfied with your reaction but to embrace it. If not even pain could falter your furtive self, then he'd have to use more forceful ways. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, swerving and pinning you down harshly back onto the surgical bed. It stunned you, his strength being unmatched. Watching with eager eyes as his own fingers found there way to his cock, he began stroking himself at the sight of your pained body. You went to sit back up, to assist him, yet he wanted none of that. 

"How difficult is it for you to follow a simple order?" Voice now deep, his spare hand now pinning you down below him.

Biting your lip as your cock ached, needing to spring free from your own underwear. You knew you had to confirm your submission to get what you wanted, it was the only way he'd ever accept you.

"Please..." Lighter than a whisper you pleaded with faint whines, your expression the softest Dottore had ever seen it. He could tell your pleads where genuine, it sent him into awe, he'd never seen you like this before - who knew you could appear so elegant?

"What was that?" But he longed to hear you again, for you to beg for his touch. He began to touch himself ever so lightly again, in front of you in all his glory.

"I want you... to touch me... please..." You signalled at your throbbing member trapped beneath your clothing, the man above you more occupied with is own pleasure than yours, "Dott-... Zandik..."

What was that? 

You eyed him sneakily, keeping the submit expression you held. Watching the sudden change in expression at the sudden use of his name, his eyes wide as his body momentarily wobbled - moving hand jolting. He ushered his head away from you, to the side, as he bit his lip forcefully. His chest now heavy, he groaned, before the unexpected release of his seed spilled from his cock. It not even giving the chance for him to redirect the stream, or for you to move yourself. It happened all too quickly, his cum painted your chin and chest as it drizzled down your skin in a slow manor. The two of you only but observed what had just happened, you sat up - collecting yourself. But you where still left unsatisfied, even if Dottore had just humiliated himself with not even being able to last five minutes. 

You didn't do anything but utter his name, his real name. Was that really all it took to get him there? Though, before you even had figured it weren't best to jab at this unexpected outcome, your eyes caught his own as he faced to look at you. Half lidded eyes, he examined the way you where still hard, still flush, and now complimented by his cum. 

He pounced on you, hungrier than ever. Lips dancing with one another again. It sent you back into your daze, it was clear he had never left his. All he needed was a momentary breather for his cock to spring back into action, and for you to look at him the way you had. 

A moaning mess as his hand palmed your strained dick, it'd taken so long for things to get to this moment. A build up of excitement, of lust, it all brewed inside of you. He was finally touching you, the man you had longed to have for what felt like centuries. His fingers hurriedly inviting themselves into your own pants, the exact way you did to his own. Tearing them down, his hand teasing your cock before giving you a light squeeze. A moaning, whimpering mess he had made of you as he lowered the surgical bed you lied on with his foot on the pedal.

"You like this really, don't you?" Dottore questioned you as he broke the kiss. Peering up at his starving grin, his eyes more crimson than ever as his stray hairs framed his face. "Getting under my skin all the time, tch- and here you are whimpering, and begging me to fuck you." 

His spare hand raised to grip your face, squashing your cheeks together, before his index finger swiped his cum what plastered your chin. He then went to grip your jaw, you obliged before he forcefully stuck his slender finger down your throat - coated in his own cum. It was still warm, briefly choking on his finger as your tongue swirled as it took in the sour taste. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you taste him, his finger deep in your mouth complimented by your saliva. Your hums of approval vibrating his hand, he swiftly removed it with precision. 

With a satisfied expression plastering his face, Dottore released your face as he gave the side of your head a tap of approval. Body tensing when his finger had travelled downwards, to your chest, to your abdomen, to your pelvis... all the way down to your member. Without even a second of hesitation, he pulled your nightwear down to your knees and then fully off. Observing the dried mess you had made earlier, still warmer than ever. Tossing them to the side, the cold air nipped away at your neglected area, watching in exhaustion as Dottore clambered onto the bed. He spread your legs, his finger examining the scars what coated them for a short while, until he was practically lying on top of you. You felt like prey captured by it's beast, as the finger you had previously coated in your saliva made its way down to your neglected hole.

Whimpering as he teased you, he spread your ass with his hand before pushing his finger deep inside. Dottores eyes capturing the way your cock twitched, your head pulling back as your face scrunched... just the utter lewd sight of you made Dottore fill with bliss, the same as yourself. He wanted you to savour every second of your pleasure, the humiliation of your tutor fingering you all while it was being recorded. Slowly his single finger building up to two... then three... which made your moans grow louder and louder. He longed for you to regret coming here, medalling with his career. Making him look like fool, pissing him off every living second you where down here working for him. Yet, he was giving you exactly what you wanted. Dottore motioned his three fingers in a scissoring like manor, stretching you out in preparation for something greater.

Becoming a hot, moaning mess underneath him. His fingers roughly penetrating you, brushing against your prostate, it was all too much.

"I- I'm gonna-" Gasps and heavy breaths, you felt the pit of your stomach burn before your second release, but, that never came. Dottore had denied your orgasm, swiftly pulling his fingers from your hole as sheer disappointment washed over you. 

He giggled, taking in your desperate face. Your prepped ass before him, your twitching cock aching for more. 

"Are you ready?" He had asked you, all you could do was nod. No words left to be said, just pleads for him to fill you.

Watching with desperate eyes, the way he lifted your thighs to rest behind over shoulders sent shivers down your spine. The way his hands felt so right against your skin, to then travel down to his own cock as he aligned it with your hole. You took a sharp breath , on release you both shared a glance what felt like minutes, but alas it was only for a second. Until he invited himself in, you wrapped around his length perfectly. Your heart pounding, biting down on your lip as he finally had entered you. Dottore let out a few strangled moans of his own, unexpected to how good you felt, pushing himself in until he could go no further.

He went slow at first, savouring every second. The way the sound of your moans danced against his ears made him grip your thighs tighter, until he left crimson marks upon your skin. He began to fuck you harder and harder, letting himself become a slave to his desires. Before you knew it he was pummelling himself into you like there where no tomorrow, it seemed he needed this as much as you did. 

You reached down to stroke your untouched cock, moans and whimpers filling the laboratory as they bounced off the walls. You touched yourself with vigour, Dottore watching the sight unfold before him. He licked his lips, collecting lost saliva from his desperate pants, before an idea struck his mind. Raising one of his hands, leaving your left thigh absent, he deeply pressed down on the recent wound he had made. 

"Ah!" Was all you could let out as you flinched, it stung - it burned. But it felt all too good.

Dottores hand pressed down harder, sweat now finding its way down from his body onto you. 

"You filthy, fucking whore." The way he sounded, you'd never heard this tone before. It made you quiver as the overstimulation finally hit you. 

He went harder, deeper, hitting your prostate too many times. His hand squeezing your wound harder, blood now starting to coat his palm. The right hand he had on your other thigh left, edging its way over to your cock what you grasped. Dottore grabbed your wrist ushering you away from yourself, replacing it with his own. The way his hand tugged on you, the way he was manhandling you like you where his toy. He squeezed, stroked, even spat to create a makeshift lubricate as he picked up his pace. 

You where nearing your end, barley hanging on your moans now shrivelled and weak - Dottores too. Both close to your release, you wanted to savour this tender moment. Despite the lustful fog what clouded your head your hand reached up, and touched his face. Your finger caressed his cheek and then his lip, thought Dottore didn't have time to react to your sudden touch of affection. Quickly leaning up to kiss him so passionately. His moans vibrated against your lips as he opened his mouth, his body tensing along with your own. His cum filled you, painting your insides hot and sticky. Your own release coating his stomach as he laid above you, skin dripping with sweat red and flush. You didn't dare break the kiss, only enjoying the intense moment you both where sharing. 

Dottore didn't want to acknowledge what'd happened, the sudden feelings piercing his heart. But there he was kissing you as his cum spilled inside of you. His grasp on you lightening when he let go, pulling away slowly. He pulled out his cock shortly after meeting your eyes, redirecting his gaze to watch the aftermath leak out of your hole. On the other hand, you only leant back down as a sigh left your lips.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The room now silent, until you felt Dottore redirect his body to stand. He looked as if he had lost something, you'd figured he would be more satisfied with this turnout of results.

"Dottore?" You spoke out, he handed you a wipe before he began to clothe himself. Ignoring you, you sighed and cleaned yourself off before reaching for the nightwear you formerly had on.

"No need to put those back on, I have your usual clothes here." Voice coarse, he gifted you the normal outfit you wore for work. 

Moments passed, you put the clothing on and brushed yourself down. Though you still felt sticky, you needed a shower. But first, you had to know something.

"Are you... alright?" Working up the courage to question your tutor, he was now fumbling with the camera he had set up what captured your intimate moment together. 

He ignored you again.

Sitting up, lifting yourself off of the table. You wobbled, having to catch yourself from falling. Legs feeling almost numb, quite frankly your ass was pounding and sore - not that you minded.

"You shouldn't be standing." He warned you as he watched you struggle over to him, voice stern.

"Then carry me back to my room." Giggling as a sigh then escaped your lips. Letting yourself fall into him as he caught you in his arms, he couldn't help admire you.

Still cheeky, after you'd been through all that. Maybe there was no changing you.

A/N: this fic was posted to my AO3 around three years ago as a request from a friend :p

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know there’s a human resistance rebellion they could probably snatch some baby humans from or something, but what about like human breeding or something? is that a thing in this universe? Since they’re more akin to pets I was wondering if there was some sort of like human breeders.

Since there’s also like selective breeding for pets there could also be selective breeding for only the most fertile humans (even if it technically doesn’t work that way). They might not even keep the males, it could be like how they just harvest sperm and artificially inseminate them?

Just worldbuilding from your silly local rice ball lover 🍙

That's a really good point, thank you, Onigiri anon!! Yes, some humans are kept as nothing more than breeding mares to move humans. Unfortunately, in the initial uprising, a large population of humans, especially the most vulnerable ones, were killed by monsters, hunger, and the elements when the civilization fell into dystopia for the first time. Monsters quickly learned that just killing every human they see isn't really a viable scenario, and someone had to pick up where the others have fallen. Men and women are both viable for reproduction, esp for species that lay eggs, like Konig or Gaz. With monsters of egg-laying type, no matter if they are birds or reptiles or sea life, they are using humans as incubators, since they need warm and soft bodies for the eggs to nourish on. It's more like a reverse seahorse situation, when you're inserted with eggs, but don't really have a genetic intake on how the babies are going to turn up. There is a chance of a more traditional pregnancy with children resembling both parents, but it's extremely rare and frowned upon by monsters - after all, humans are deemed inherently weak by any monster. Selective breeding saves both male and female specimens, as long as they have more advantages to raise the monster brood properly - I imagine wider hips, softer bodies in general, resilience to pain, and the submissiveness that gets really stuck in their heads as a result. With humans sold in pet shops, it's no wonder that some monster species are taking their role as caretakers and raisers of new human generations for further breeding - as fucked up as it might be. some humans get released by human resistance, although if a person comes from this indoctrinated, monster-pleasing background, they wouldn't be able to survive in the wild, in most cases. Also as a fun fact, humans have much larger life spans than any human would - Konig can easily clock up at least 100 years and more and more, as long as he isn't killed - but the thing is, that human's biology gets irreversibly changed after a prolonged and repeated exposure to monster semen. Our poor breeding wifey, she doesn't even know that aging isn't a problem anymore( death of old age isn't going to help her get free of Konig, they have mated, and she will be alive for much, much longer, her life span increasing with every time an egg or semen gets deposited in her.