#it just sounds so... infantilizing

[spicyraeman]

I can't be the only transmasc who hates being called handsome right? Like to me that's what you call kids and pets not a full grown man

[much-discourse-wow]

Oh? Some crackpot feminist attributing basic adult tasks to the "definition of being a woman" but also knocks on men for "doing the bare minimum" in life?

Must be a day ending in y.

[pastel-starr-bitch]

The hug mod is cute & I don't know if I'm being chronically online but like... the amount of people who immediately jumped to "I can't wait to hug Astarion after he kills Cazador" is just leaving a weird taste in my mouth. There's a reason they didn't add an option to hug him there (when they easily could've, as we see in the later update with Shadowheart at the statue). There was a high demand for them to add that in yet, Larian didn't for a reason... Idk I feel like I'm definitely taking it too seriously but I feel weirdly about it.

I know that he's a video game character and this is a harmless mod but I just hope that we all understand that it's somewhat of an OOC interaction

[windydrawallday]

Long-PSA-short of sorts that's more a vent: I was always aware my behavior and way of expressing myself online can surprise many people, especially if they are not used to someone who uses the writing medium as a playful form to tell emotions in a very descriptive way as I do. I'm quite affectionate with words, yes. And I always beg people I hang with personally to let me know if some of that bothers them, curtly of course. So far there have been few instances of individuals confusing those signals with ulterior means, things I assure you there's nothing more than me being friendly and supportive.

Imagine idk an excited dog seeing its owner haha

Until the past week, I found myself being tackled by something that made me almost knock everything aside because it made me realize that probably I'm a walking trigger/squick inducer with even the way I wield words like "love" and "friendship".

Almost...

I'm pretty tolerant of whatever way people conduct themselves in this life, the only moment I flinch is when an individual assumes from my default behavior and presentation that I want to impose my way of life... And nopes.

This is simply how and who I am. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't search for conflict but for understanding. My language for expressing marvel and reflections is like this, never to make the other feel awkward or attacked.

So, it upset me knowing that by wielding this forever welcoming and lovable disposition, I can be something to fear and even despite... to some people.

But, you know? That means that my "love" and "friendship" lifestyle are not made for you, no reason to come back to me and point at it. Just keep walking if you have only rage and rejection to give as a reply to my point of view. Because by wielding rage and rejection, what you only do is burn bridges. To create conflict and assume imaginary antagonistic scenarios where there's nothing of that at all.

You can't create the world you wish to live in by burning bridges.

It took me a lot too to forge who I am right now. I even keep learning and chiseling through traumas and mistakes—kindness and patience taught me more than rage and rejection. And "love" and "friendship" are the bricks I chose to build those bridges. I know everyone else uses different concepts but in the end, we all build bridges. By creating bridges and inviting others to do the same, I expand not only my world, but the other's too!

Isn't that better than demanding to be this or that through a black/white flag of rage and rejection? I think so. And I understand perfectly we sometimes need to be blunt when marking our boundaries. Still, never justifies treating the other bad.

And if some of you find "fake" or distasteful the way I wear this flag of "love" and "friendship" I'm sorry: this place will never be safe for you then. The exit door is always open. Go ahead.

I hope you find your place and flags out there too, but don't forget that to do that you need to build bridges. If you don't want to call it "friendship" call it "glue" or whatever makes you comfortable, but don't kick people like me who fought with claws and teeth to reclaim those words and feelings.

Fight your fight by being a good example, not a bad experience that makes someone never want to deal with something like this again in their life.

"Any color you like, (in the end) they're all blue."

[eddie-rifff]

i feel like the people geeking out over the grandpas on instagram with weak singing voices doing lana del rey covers just don’t know that there are old people out there that age that actually sound really good and that earle from minnesota really is not doing anything special and in fact kind of sucks

[elisemochi]

Thinking about that one post I saw in passing way before I made this account that like was a confession blog and the confession was like

"I think Illuminata isn't romanceable because she falls in love with Amber"

or something like that and like the only comment was somebody saying like "ew, how dare you make me look at this"

Anyway I think Illuminata/Amber would be pretty cute

[adhbabey]

yknow what, I'm gonna make a fun post about my identity and I wanna talk about shit I'm tired of.

So basically, I am someone who's young looking, sounds young and dresses cutely, and likes cutesy things, and I'm fucking sick and tired of people acting like I, and other people like me, are catering to fucking pedophiles. No the fuck I am not and even if I was associating my shit with kink, I'm still not fucking pedo-bait.

Like, I've seen so many, many people act like any girl or feminine person who likes creepy cute things or just cute things for that matter, are inherently catering to shit that they didn't fucking consent to. Like artists such as Melanie Martinez, get fucking written down as for shit for pedophiles, and I'm fucking tired of people putting labels on people like us, just because our identities may be associated heavily with childhood or innocence or even fucking pink.

I'm a disabled person, and I definitely lived life not reaching developmental goals as soon as other people. I still can't drive a car, I still live with my family, I still haven't had sex, I definitely didn't start wearing more adult clothes until later, I was overprotected and sheltered to the point that I didn't start knowing what swears meant until I was older. I have all my life been associated with being younger or more innocent or more childish, and you're fucking telling me that I can't make that part of my identity or else I'm fucking catering to pedophiles? Fuck you.

Even if it was a kink thing, even if people were calling their boyfriend Daddy or their girlfriend Mommy, or wearing collars and cat ears, or dressing up like anime girls and doing fucking roleplay, even if they wanted to be tied up in fluffy pink handcuffs, who the fuck do you think you are to label them like that? To act like they're too fucking taboo and too fucking weird and cringe and shit, to even grace their goddamn presence to you.

I feel fucking stunted in life, I didn't feel like a fucking adult when I was 18. I feel like my fucking childhood was wasted on trauma and being disabled. I wanted to fucking kill myself at 12 years old. So what gives you motherfuckers the right to label other people as people who want to fucking violate themselves for predators?!

I feel more violated by these words that condescend me and patronize me and attack me, than I do just existing how I normally do. If I want to wear dresses and frilly socks and mary janes and meow, I will fucking do it and its not your right to judge me on that.

And before anyone comes here and says "well it triggers me because I have childhood trauma", well so do I, motherfucker. You can curate your online experience, but you can't harass people like me, who act way too young for their age, because they can't fucking help it, or maybe they just fucking want to be like this.

[aknolan]

Okay so, here's how I read into the Nuts and Dolts dynamic:

Ruby: "I love Penny but I don't know if she feels the same way and everything is so chaotic and I don't want to make her uncomfortable so I'll just keep this to myself and focus on other things!"

Penny: "Ruby is such a good friend! I want to make out with her! That is TOTALLY a thing good friends do, right? I'm pretty sure Blake and Yang make out, and they ALSO seem like very good friends! Weiss, are you okay? You look like you are trying to ease a headache."

I feel like that really doesn't give enough credit to Penny tbh. I get that it's funny to treat her as super naive on how everything works, but especially in v7 and v8 she's just... not.

Penny not realizing her feelings for Ruby are romantic? Sure. Penny not realizing that making out is a romantic thing? That just seems a bit infantilizing to me. And I'm not really blaming you because it's a common thing in the fandom, but I'm also not gonna gloss over it. That reduces Penny to a joke about how she has 0 social understanding, when v7 very clearly moves waaaaaaay beyond that.

Anyways, the way I read them is that up to v3, Ruby may have had a bit of a crush on Penny, but never really thought about her feelings long enough to notice. Then after v3, she thought Penny was dead and it didn't matter what exactly those feelings were, it just hurt. Then v7 happens, and she's between "too much work to think about feelings" and "no clear time limit to figure this out so whatever" again with regard to her feelings. In v8 she of course has even less time to think about it, but a lot of opportunity to notice how important Penny is. How much the thought of losing her again hurts. That leaves her in v9 with a very clear understanding of how deeply important Penny is, with it only being a matter of time before the quarter drops and she has her realization that the feeling is love.

Penny I think has the very specific problem of not having a reference point. This especially goes for v3. The people she's close to are her dad and Ruby, and so the difference between the feelings is easy to think of as family vs friend. And that's how things stay. Sure, Winter becomes a friend of sorts, but that's still... different. It's only really in v8 that she ends up briefly surrounded by friends, as everyone tries to save her. Everyone is willing to take risks for her. This is when she gains a reference point for how the feelings she has for Ruby are different from friend-feelings.

I also think either of them may have noticed much sooner if the concept of kissing was on their minds, but it's not, and that's fine.

[odysseys-blood]

now more than ever i think i need to rewatch gullah gullah island

[kargaroc]

I hate the spelling "enby" but I keep seeing it used more and more... pain

[starlooove]

You know I talk a lot about how fandom doesn’t realize how fucking bigoted it is in every aspect bc they get turned on by gay men and go by sock and that means they’re progressive but it hit me when someone with a viktor pfp is in the comments getting gassed up (ha. You’ll see in a second) by other braindead bitches for saying piltover gassing (get it) the streets is not bad and is actually appropriate to do in order to find one person. Like how the fuck do you watch arcane and agree with the enforcers. How is the propoganda working for you when you’re looking at EVERY angle. I will sound insane if I connect this to common viewpoints on stuff irl and I do have enough tact not to do this however I will say it’s less surprise and more. Watching another dominoe fall after it wobbled for a few minutes. What the fuck

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Till The Water Boils Over Or The Frog Drowns.

Pairing: Yan!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 5.8k.

TW: No Curses AU, Dub/Con -> Non/Con (Revoked Consent), Fem!Reader, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kidnapping, Financial Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Infantilization, Spanking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Forced Codependency. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part Two]

It started the day Satoru first introduced the concept of ‘time out’ to your relationship.

He was immature and you were stubborn. You loved him, but without Suguru’s even temper and calming presence, sparks tended to fly in a way that left you at each other’s throats. With your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed, you’d watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and storm out of your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You gave yourself a second, then another – sucking in a shallow breath and shutting your eyes, talking yourself through all your usual cool-down methods. You were supposed to go out, tonight, to a restaurant you and Satoru had both been talking about for weeks. You still had about an hour before Suguru was supposed to get home, before you were all supposed to leave together. It wasn’t a good day to fight, even if you knew Suguru would smooth everything over as soon as he got home.

When you were done, you moved to the bedroom door. One hour was plenty of time to talk things out. One hour was plenty of time to kiss and make up, even if you would hold a grudge for a—

You pushed gently on the door. It didn’t budge.

You tried the knob. It turned, but the door still didn’t open.

You pressed your shoulder into the wood, shoving with more force than you ever should’ve had to use. Something shifted – a chair slotted underneath the handle, Satoru’s back leaning against the other side of the thin wood – but didn’t give.

The frustration you’d only just managed to suppress resurfaced immediately. Still pressed against your side of the door, you called out, attempting to keep your tone soft, light. “Satoru? Baby?”

 The sweetness in his voice was equally artificial. “I’m right here, angel.”

“I—I think the door might be jammed.” You tried the knob again, rattling the metal for emphasis. Satoru only hummed in response, and you grimaced. “Are you gonna let me out, ‘toru? I really don’t have time to be—”

“Ninety minutes.”

“…ninety minutes?”

“Ninety minutes,” he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “After that, we can check and see if you’re still feelin’ so bratty.”

You were almost thankful there was a door between you. If it hadn’t been there, you might not have been able to stop yourself from throttling him. “Satoru, I really don’t have time to—”

There was an obnoxiously loud hum, the sound of footsteps moving down the hall. You groaned, resting your forehead against the cool wood. Whatever. He was being petty, again. You could do ninety minutes. And, even if you couldn’t, he’d probably be back in ten, tail between his legs and pouting for your attention.

You quickly resigned yourself to passing the time as quickly as possible. You laid face-down on your bed, bemoaning your taste in men and picturing all the ways you could break up with Satoru, once he let you out. You scrolled through your phone, spamming Suguru with half-coherent messages and memes from the very depths of your camera roll. You re-organized your closet, sorting your clothes by color and alphabetizing your shoes. You managed to read a full page of one of the bulky historical fiction novels Suguru kept on the bedside table before deciding you’d be better off breaking up with both your current boyfriends.

You checked the time when you were done, and discovered that you’d managed to kill a whopping fifteen minutes.

God, you were so fucked.

Only half-consciously, you gravitated back to the door, slumping against it. You opened your mouth, ready to call out to Satoru and say whatever you had to say to get out, but another voice cut in before you got the chance. “Baby?”

Suguru. He must’ve gotten back early. You let out a shallow sigh, letting your head fall forward in relief. “Right here,” you said, making no effort to hide your exasperation. “Can you open the door? I think ‘toru blocked me in.”

His deep chuckle was muffled, but still clearly audible. “I’m afraid I can’t. He’s still pretty mad, couldn’t stop talking about how you copped an attitude with him.” There was a pause, a shoulder being rested against the other side of the door. “I think he mentioned something about a dress?”

You were glad he couldn’t see you – he would’ve hated the way you grimaced at the reminder. “It’s a nice restaurant. I wanted to dress up a little, but he’s just so immature, and when he saw the dress I wanted to wear—”

Suguru cut in. “The red one, right?”

“Yeah, with the window on the chest.” You sighed. “Please, Suguru? I really don’t want to spend the next hour of my life locked in my own bedroom.”

Another laugh, this one more stifled than the first. “He just knows how pretty you’d look, babe. Probably doesn’t want anyone else to find out how beautiful our partner is.” When you didn’t respond, he added, “Didn’t he just buy you somethin’ brand new? He can’t complain if he’s the one who picked it out, right?”

You pursed your lips. He had – a pure ivory dress, a little shorter than mid-thigh and sleeveless, not exactly conservative, but not meant to show as much skin as you usually preferred to. It’d come with matching gold jewelry, and you’d politely accepted the gift, kissed him on the cheek, and stashed it under your bed to rot. It wasn’t ugly, nothing so expensive could be, but it suited Satoru’s tastes, not yours.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, trying to soften the harsher edges of your distaste. “You know how Satoru is. Everything he picks out is just so—so him.”

“I’m starting to think you both might be causing problems.” You kicked the base of the door, but Suguru didn’t indulge your outburst with acknowledgement. “Just try it on, alright? If it’s that bad, we can always go without him.”

It took another minute or so of condoling, but soon enough, you were slipping into Satoru’s gifted dress, cursing as you struggled with the tiny, finicky zipper and smoothed wrinkles out of abused silk. You pulled your fingers through your hair once before returning to the bedroom door and knocking defeatedly. As if to add insult to injury, the door swung open in an instant, a smiling Suguru waiting on the threshold.

“See? Absolutely gorgeous, as always.” He leaned forward, cupping your cheek. You let his lips brush over your forehead before pulling away. Thankfully, he wasn’t cruel enough to draw it out any longer – his hand falling to yours and taking it up, tugging you gently towards the living room. “Satoru’s going to forget he was ever mad at all as soon as he sees you.”

You didn’t bother responding, only slumping against his side and letting him guide you forward. Distantly, you heard Suguru calling out to Satoru, but you were already busy – too occupied promising yourself that this would never, ever happen again to care what either of them was saying.

You would, of course, be wrong.

~

Barricaded doors quickly became a weekly inconvenience. You and Satoru fought often (never intensely and never for very long, but often), and he owned the apartment – meaning, despite all your whining, you couldn’t exactly tell him that his doors couldn’t all lock from the outside. Your ‘cool-down sessions’ (Suguru’s words, not yours) lasted anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours, and Suguru was always the one to let you out. When you couldn’t be locked up and left to stew, Satoru would take it upon himself to leave the apartment – if only for as long as he thought it would take for you to forget you’d argued at all. You got used to it quickly. It wasn’t fair, you didn’t enjoy it, but you got used to it. You’d always had more patience than you really should’ve, when it came to Satoru’s antics.

And then, Suguru started showering with you.

Finding time to spend together was an ever-present obstacle in your relationship. Satoru alternated sporadically between planning lectures and grading papers late into the night to rolling his eyes at the concept of due dates and dulling out extra credit on a whim, and trying to guess if Suguru would be free was a pursuit in futility – his sermons were scheduled, but he was almost always being called out on some mysterious errand on behalf of one of his countless, faceless apostles. You didn’t work at all, but you went to school, and you kept yourself busy. You’d never be as busy as Satoru and Suguru, but you did your best to keep up with them.

Currently, you were basking in the afterglow with Suguru, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Satoru was already gone, rushed off to some early-morning lecture, but Suguru didn’t have anything to do, and you—well, you could miss a lecture or two if it meant spending time with him. And, even if you couldn’t, it was hard to imagine tearing yourself away from the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing aimless patterns into the small of your back, of his lips pushing warm, open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your collarbone, your throat. His hands drifted to your hips, grip tightening ever-so-slightly, and you felt a raspy groan reverberate against the side of your neck, Suguru pulling you close as he—

“Save it,” you said, drawing back. He pouted and you grinned, pecking the corner of his jaw and sitting up, letting his sheets pool around your waist. “Just for a few minutes – I feel gross.” A full groan, this time. You laughed, combing his disheveled hair back and pressing another kiss into his forehead, this one lingering just a beat longer than the first. “You’ll survive a shower, Suguru.”

You felt him shift underneath you. Before you had a chance to pull away, he was sitting up, his arms still around your waist – keeping you messily laid across his lap. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll wait your turn.” And then, when he only hummed in response, “I’m being serious. Somebody in this relationship has to wash their hair every now and then.”

His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, and he was moving toward the edge of the mattress with your body still tucked against his chest. He was planning on carrying you, presumably. Sometimes, it felt like if it were up to Suguru, you’d never walk anywhere on your own again. “I know.” His voice was still raspy with sleep, his usual articulation weighed down by the fatigue that came with a morning spent in bed. “I’ll help.”

“That’s really sweet, but—” You strung your arms around his neck as he stood up, taking you with him. “—I think I’ll be alright on my own, Suguru.”

For the first time all morning, his eyes flickered open, wandering idly in your direction. He held your gaze for a beat, then another.

Finally, the edge of his lips quirked upward – the sly, knowing grin you’d fallen in love with soon painted across his lips. When he spoke, it was in a tone to match, all confidence and cloying, calculated sweetness. “No.”

You faltered, at that. “…no?”

“Don’t wanna be away from you for that long,” he mumbled, by way of explanation. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll take care of. Don’t want you to have to worry your pretty little head over anything.”

You tried your best to laugh, but it was a weak effort, better left unacknowledged. “I don’t know how I feel about my boyfriend offering to, I don’t know, shave my legs or something.”

He only soldiered on, as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

~

You felt Satoru’s hands on your waist first, then his chest against your back. His mouth found the curve of your throat as if by instinct, teeth grazing against a bruise Suguru had left in the same spot the day before. You felt him lean against you and dropped the knife you were holding onto a nearby cutting board, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter to compensate.

You glanced over your shoulder as his head bowed, face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. He must’ve just gotten home – he was still wearing his sunglasses, only the first three buttons on his shirt undone. You grinned, twisting around just far enough to kiss the top of his head before turning back to your ingredients. “Rough lecture?”

“Grad students,” he muttered, the dread in his voice plainly audible. “One more fucking extension request, and I swear, I’ll fail the entire class.”

You hummed, letting him sink further into you. You might’ve let him stay there, too, if one of his hands hadn’t fallen to your ass while the other slipped underneath your loose shirt. Before he could creep upward, you jabbed an elbow into his chest. “Keep it in your pants. You still smell like a college campus.”

Of course, he didn’t budge. “But I missed you,” he whined, as shameless as he was clingy. “I had to leave so early, and I was stuck in my office for so long, and I’m gonna die if I have to wait any longer. Is that what you want? For me to die?”

“You could always go to Suguru, if you’re that insatiable.”

“But I want you.” You felt a thumb slip below the waistband of your sweatpants (or, Suguru’s sweatpants, technically – he’d been unbearable unless you were wearing his clothes, recently) and batted his hand away. Your efforts were, predictably, unsuccessful. “Please, baby?” And then, after a beat. “You don’t care about dinner more than you care about me, do you?”

You felt something delicate inside of you falter, crack, then fall apart entirely. It was strange – how long you could nurse a wound without acknowledging it existed at all. “It’s not that, I just—” You stuttered, then stopped entirely. You deflated underneath Satoru’s weight, and as if in response, he held you that much tighter, keeping you as close as you could be, lest he carve open his chest and force you into the open cavity. “I… I guess I feel like I haven’t really been doing a lot for you two, lately. You pay all the bills, and Suguru goes out of his way to take care of me, and there just… It makes me feel kind of useless.” You tried to punctuate the confession with a smile, a laugh, but both were hollow beyond the point of recognizability. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t tried at all. “You get it, right? I just—I don’t want to be the only one not doing anything.”

There was a beat of silence. You felt Satoru settle against you, his chest pressing into your back before he pulled away, detaching from you entirely. You sighed, letting yourself relax.

And then, just as suddenly, you were off of your feet and in Satoru’s arm, one tucked under the bend of your knees while the other supported your back. You managed a stammered, half-coherent protest, but if Satoru was listening, he wasn’t bothered.

He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, your half-finished recipe forgotten in favor of dropping you onto the nearest couch and kneeling over you, already pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Sounds like our baby’s been thinkin’ too much.” He was grinning, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. “Let me put a stop to that.”

You opened your mouth, but you didn’t have time to respond. His mouth was already crashing into yours; swallowing down anything you might’ve said and replacing it with a breathy moan, a haze over your conscious thoughts.

You didn’t bother trying to talk your way out from underneath Satoru, again.

~

You couldn’t breathe.

It took you a moment to realize what was wrong, another to put together why. You felt the blunt tip of Suguru’s cock hit the back of your throat as Satoru’s chest pressed into yours, the latter pressing the air out of your lungs while the former forced you to choke what little was left up. Satoru had set a relentless pace; his thrusts brutal, his tempo erratic, his hips crashing into yours with enough force to bruise. Two of Suguru’s thick, calloused fingers were lodged between your body and Satoru’s drawing quick, precise patterns into your clit, while both of Satoru’s hands were wrapped around the underside of your thighs, keeping your knees pinned to your chest, your body folded in half and pressed into the mattress. They’d always been taller than you, with Suguru kneeling by your head and Satoru looming over you, they both seemed so much bigger. They both seemed so, so much stronger than they ever had before.

You couldn’t breathe. The lack of oxygen was already rushing to your head, already replacing your sense of logic with a shrill, panicked buzz. Your body hurt everywhere they touched it, the warmth pooling in your core and arousal left behind by previous climaxes not enough to dull the sharp sting of Satoru’s nails against your skin, not enough to soften the harsh edge of the grin you could only barely see spread across Suguru’s lips out of the corner of your eye. It was a struggle just to move your jaw, and even then, any sounds you were able to make were borderline incoherent – your little chants of ‘red, red, red’ so stifled and so garbled by Suguru’s cock that you couldn’t have blamed him for not hearing you at all. It was only when you tried to pull your head back that his eyes fell away from where Satoru’s cock was fucking into your dripping cunt and to your face, tears of distress already beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. You let out one more panicked cry, hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to see the fear in your expression and know something was wrong, but that grin you had loved so much only widened, sharpened. “Like that, princess?” You felt his free hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair while the patterns being pushed into your sensitive clit sped up, intensified. “Faster,” he cooed to Satoru, his voice laced with something vicious and mocking. “If she can still cry, she can still fuck.”

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Suguru just liked to be mean in bed, and Satoru liked to indulge him. That was the only reason they were doing this to you, that was the only reason Satoru listened; leaning that much more of his weight onto as his cock beat against the walls of your cunt. “Fuck,” Satoru muttered, as Suguru’s cock twitched against the roof of your mouth. “Got tighter when you said that. Is that what you want? For me and him to fuck you unconscious?”

This time, you didn’t try to pull back, you jerked – lurching out of Suguru’s hold, drawing back until you could gasp and pant and fill your aching lungs. “Red,” you half-choked, half-cried. “Red, red, stop, too much, I can’t—”

Satoru cut you off with a throat groan. You felt his form tense against yours, heard a shameless moan spill past his lips, and suddenly, it was like you’d forgotten how to breathe entirely. “Too close for that,” he muttered, his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “You can take it for me, angel.”

You couldn’t, but you didn’t have time to tell him that. You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to spit out was a keening, pitiful whine as you felt something deep in your core pull taut and snap, as your cunt clenched around him and you came undone on Satoru’s cock for the nth time. At the same time, he went stiffed above you, forcing his hips flush with yours and filling your abused pussy with something thick and searing. The feeling was alien, strange. You could’ve sworn he said he would wear a condom, tonight.

It felt like you laid there for a small eternity – trapped under Satoru’s limp body, Suguru still petting idly through your hair. You stared unblinkingly at the ceiling until, days later, Satoru pulled himself upright with a raspy grunt, turning to Suguru. You were vaguely aware of his head being lowered into Suguru’s lap, moving to finish the job you hadn’t wanted to, but that seemed distant, unimportant. The room was too small, too closed-off. You weren’t getting enough air. You were too warm. You were too small. You—

You needed to leave.

Your body was on the edge of the mattress before your mind could make the conscious decision to move. You were shaking, despite the damp humidity clinging to your skin, but you tried to ignore that and focus on getting your feet underneath you, on fishing Satoru’s shirt off the floor and pulling it over your head. You’d need pants, too, and your wallet – maybe you’d still have a little cash stowed away, something from before Satoru insisted you start carrying one of his platinum cards. You’d spend the night in a hotel, or better yet, rent a car – get out of Tokyo altogether. You had a friend who lived outside of the city – or, you used to, at least. You couldn’t remember the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru and Suguru.

You made it to the doorway before Suguru called out. “Going somewhere, princess?”

You froze, but didn’t look over your shoulder. You could barely stand. You needed to go. “I just—I think I need a little air.”

“Give us a minute. Me or ‘toru should go with you.” There was a lull to his voice, an airiness just barely audible over the slick, sloppy sound of Satoru’s mouth moving over his shaft. You could remember admiring that about him, once, constantly thinking about how lucky you were to have such a cool, confident boyfriend. Right now, though, it was hard to think of his unfaltering composure as anything but inhuman. “It just wouldn’t be safe to let you—”

“I need air,” you repeated, because it was true, because you did. Little, black spots were already starting to dot your vision, and it felt like someone was trying to wrap their hands around your throat and squeeze. “I… I think I might be gone for a while, too.”

For all his tenderness, Suguru didn’t sound very concerned. “How long?”

“A couple hours,” you tried, and then, much more quietly, when he let out a disbelieving hum. “…a few days?”

This time, Suguru didn’t have to say anything at all. Leaning against the doorway, Satoru’s cum still dripping down the inside of your thigh, it took less than a minute for you to crack on your own. “I think we… I think I might need a little space.”

There was another beat of silence, occupied only by a soft groan from Suguru, the sound of noisy swallowing from Satoru. Finally, he sighed. You didn’t dare to look, but you could picture him shaking his head, smiling as he rolled his eyes. Acting as if you’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. “What do you think, Satoru? Have we waited long enough.”

“—too long.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse, breathy. In your peripheral, you could see him dragging the back of his hand across his lips as he raised his head. “We’ve had everything ready for months, now.”

That was all Suguru needed to hear. He turned back to you, letting his head lull to the side. “Come back to bed, won’t you, princess?”

You didn’t respond. What little air you still had hitched in your collapsing throat as you attempted to move forward, only for a hand to catch your shoulder and hold you in-place. It was Satoru – now standing less than a full step behind you. He didn’t bother with a warning before wrapping his free arm around your waist and dragging you into his chest and off of your feet. You made a weak effort to thrash, to squirm, to dig your nails into the forearm laid over your midriff, but Satoru didn’t make a sound, didn’t let you go, only hauling you back to where Suguru sat on the edge of the mattress. You shouldn’t have felt as betrayed as you did. They’d both always been able to pick you up and throw you around like a kitten, being carried from place to place by its scruff. It was always only going to be a matter of time before they stopped listening to your half-hearted protests entirely.

“Over the knee,” Suguru said with a sort of flippant, beckoning gesture. “I want to make sure we get off on the right foot.”

Wordlessly, unceremoniously, you were dropped face-down into Suguru’s lap – his thighs pressing into your exposed stomach. Satoru lowered himself to the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged and reaching out, cupping your face delicately. More out of reflex than anything intelligent, you tried to push yourself up, but a hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you paralyzed. Sometime between the doorway and the bed, the shaking had gotten worse. You doubted you’d be able to keep your legs underneath you, anymore. “Twenty-five,” he announced – an executioner reading out his victim’s sentence. “Fifteen for trying to leave us, and ten more for not listening to me. Does that sound fair, Satoru.”

“So mean, Sugu’,” Satoru whined, but you could already see a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “The poor thing doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Which is why we have to make a strong impression. I want her to know there’ll be consequences for misbehavior.” You felt his hand drifting up the length of your spine, lingering on the sensitive junction between your shoulder blades. “Twenty-five, okay, princess? I’m going to need you to count for me – if you lose track, we’ll have to start over.”

“Suguru, ‘toru, I don’t—I don’t understand what—” You were cut off by a sudden, bruising blow to the plush of your ass – all force, no friction. It took you a second to realize that it was Suguru’s hand, another to consciously acknowledge that he’d spanked you. Like you were some bratty toddler. Like he wanted to hurt you.

It took another lash to know you out of your spell-bound state and send a keening, pitchy cry spilling past your lips. The tears you’d managed to hold back minutes ago were back in full-force, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chin, accompanied by the occasional sniffle or ragged sob. Suguru hummed, but any sympathy he might’ve had remained unexpressed, hidden behind a thick veil of strict impassivity. “I need you to count. I know it’s hard, but it’ll only get more difficult if you don’t cooperate.” He paused, clicked his tongue. “We’re still on one. Are you going to be good, or do I have to get the belt?”

“Hurts, Suguru, you’re hurting—”

Another blow, this one to the back of your thighs and twice as harsh as the first two. Meekly, you mumbled a weak “…one.”

You couldn’t see past your own tears by the fifth strike, and by the tenth, you were sobbing openly. Each blow leaves your skin burning and your ass pulsing, but despite everything, he was far from brutal. His pace was measured, precise, and he was strategic – careful to never abuse the same spot to the point of numbness. After the fifteenth, you sniffled and forced yourself to raise your head, meeting Satoru’s eyes and silently pleading for his pity, for his help. Rather than empathy, you found a glassy stare and his hand in his lap, pumping idly over his cock. A few hours ago, you could picture yourself teasing him for not being able to go a full minute without someone touching him, even himself. Right now, the sight alone was enough to make bile rise into the back of your throat.

His thumb ran over your cheek, his palm settling under your chin and tilting your head back. “Don’t give me that look. This is twice as gentle as he’s ever been with me.”

By the time it was over, you were near-inconsolable, every number followed immediately by a string of distorted gibberish, a disjointed plea for him to stop, or be gentle, or let you go. You laid limp across Suguru’s lap as he drew slow, tender patterns into your abused flesh, every little touch sparking a new kind of pain, dragging another ragged sob up from somewhere deep and visceral in your chest. He was talking to you, cooing sweet nothings, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You wanted to leave.

But, you couldn’t, and even if you’d had the strength to try, you wouldn’t have gotten very far. You hadn’t seen him move, but at some point, Satoru must’ve left the room. When your crying began to wane and you could bare the thought of opening your eyes, you found him standing in front of you, holding a glass of water in one hand and three white pills in the other. “Open up,” he said, drawing out each syllable for a beat longer than he really had to. “It’ll help with the pain, promise.”

You pursed your lips, grit your teeth, but Suguru’s thumb pressed into a fresh bruise and fear immediately overwhelmed your sense of caution. Suguru took precious seconds to reposition you – drawing you up by your shoulders to straddle his thigh – and Satoru’s hand found its way back to your cheek, his thumb tapping your bottom lip and slipping onto your tongue as you, reluctantly, opened your mouth. The pills were first, allowed to sit on your tongue until their bitterness reached the back of your throat, then the water, poured sloppily enough for the excess to spill out of the corners of your mouth. The reaction was instantaneous – a wave of nausea, then fatigue, your eyes immediately too heavy to keep open, your body too distant to justify attempting to control. You went slack, falling against Suguru, and he chuckled, bowing his head.

The last thing you felt was his mouth against your throat before everything went numb.

~

You woke up hours later, tucked into a bed that wasn’t yours and in more pain than you’d ever felt before.

Shock and terror startled you into consciousness before you could so much as attempt to fade back into blissful oblivion. You tried to curl up, to make yourself as small and as safe as possible, but your leg caught on something – a leather cuff, discovered after throwing the sheets that’d been laid over you to the side. A shackle, lined in velvet and sitting loosely at the base of your ankle, a silver chain connecting it to an unseen point underneath the bed. You gave it another tug, just to check, and unsurprisingly, it refused to budge. You choose to look away before the pit quickly opening up inside of your chest could deepen any further.

Instead, you turned your attention outward – to the rest of the bedroom. It wasn’t the one you shared with Satoru and Suguru, or the undecorated guestroom Satoru had semi-converted into a home office. The walls were a pale pink, the shelves already stocked with stuffed animals, fairy lights, jewelry boxes that (knowing Satoru) were no doubt filled to the brim. You weren’t wearing Suguru’s shirt anymore, either. Your blood ran cold as you glanced down and found yourself in a pastel blue nightgown – all lace and silk and frills no one could ever hope to actually sleep in. You didn’t know whether to be disgusted that they’d re-dressed you while you were unconscious, without your permission, or thankful they hadn’t waited until you were awake enough to try and stop them.

Seconds seemed to move in thick, dripping clumps. You couldn’t be sure how long passed until your disoriented stillness was interrupted, but by the time the plain, white door (a neat row of undone deadbolts visible above to the knob) swung open, Satoru stepping through with Suguru following shortly behind him. Automatically, you started to move towards them, but caught yourself, pressing you back into the headboard and crossing your arms over your chest, as if that gave you any kind of authority. As if there was any authority you could have, chained to the floor in the bedroom of a pre-schooler.

“You were beginning to worry us,” Suguru started, sitting on the foot of the bed. “But, then again, our little princess was always a delicate one, wasn’t she?”

You stiffened, bristled. You opened your mouth, but closed it as Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders, collapsing next to you. “Here,” he said, holding something out. “Suguru wanted to make you ask, but I’m not that stingy.”

 You attempted to shift away from him, but Satoru had never made things that easy. He clung to you that much tighter as your eyes fell to his hand, finding—

A cup.

A sippy cup, pink and plastic and decorated with little, glittering clouds.

The nausea was immediate, nearly overwhelming. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to throw it across the room. You wanted to do anything but accept it, but your throat was bone-dry, a steady throbbing already begging to root in the back of your skull. Wordlessly, you snatched it out of his hand and (with more than a little strain) pulled off the lid, drinking as quickly as you could. Satoru’s nails scraped against your bicep, but neither of them commented.

Suguru waited until you were finished to go on. “You’ll get used to it, after a few weeks. It’s really not that different from our prior relationship, just a few aesthetic changes ‘toru and I thought a—” He paused, grinned. “—softer environment might suit you.”

“We can be more honest now, too.” Satoru sounded too giddy, too happy. “Those last couple of days practically killed me – having to watch you leave the apartment, acting all independent n’ shit. This way, there won’t be anything stopping us from keeping you all to ourselves.”

A beat passed in silence. It took you a moment to realize you were supposed to say something, and another to actually open your mouth, to find your voice when all you wanted to do was shrivel up and shut your eyes. “I don’t really understand what’s going on,” you muttered, like that would make it true. Like enough stuttering, simpering obliviousness would be what made them change their minds. “When are you going to let me go?”

Beside you, you heard Satoru try and fail to suppress a breath of a laugh, and Suguru’s grin only seemed to widen.

[minecraftdog]

I don't understand how people just write all those fics? how do you have this much of brain power?

i tried to write something and made a draft, wrote the begging, and i scene that i was very passionate about, and now what? you mean I need to stich it somehow together? make more scenes? write dialogue????

[mynahx3]

I'll Make You Better, Baby 1.5k

This is a lil drabble of @meo-eiru elf OC Silas. The lil cutie just wants to take care of his little human Hope everyone enjoys!! Got inspired after getting sick ;-;

WARNINGS: Noncon oral (male receiving), forced infantilization, implied kidnapping, implied prior noncon, weird misunderstood mom/ baby relationship, Silas does not understand his feelings for reader lol GN! Reader

Being sick had to be one of the worst things to happen at this very moment. It hurt to move; you barfed almost everything you ate, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep until you felt better.

When it happened before, you would stay home from work. Recover bundled in your bed with a plethora of medications on your nightstand, maybe with a cup of tea or two to soothe your aching throat. Either sleep the day away or spend the time bingeing your favorite show.

Things like that took time for you to get better, but they were conventional.

Now if someone told you that you'd be forced into the care of a delusional elf after getting lost in the enchanted forest, you'd call them crazy. But here you were, being pampered as he insisted on feeding you strange concoctions, doting on you like a mother would.

Only a mother wouldn't be doing this to their child.

Silas currently had you on the bed, bundled in the blanket, but you were on your knees. He stood at the foot of the bed; being as tall as he was, he loomed over you like a giant. His eyes were lovestruck and filled with tears as he guided your head up and down his length.

The taste of him was all over your tongue; a mix of his cum and drool went down your chin. Not bad, per say; it tasted sweeter with a hint of saltiness, unlike any human you've ever been with.

His fingers were tangled in your hair as he assisted you, moving your head with a firm but gentle touch. Your mouth aches around him, and he barely went halfway; your throat felt raw and stretched as you took more and more of him in.

"Feels so good, my baby." Silas praised, his hips bucking more into your throat on accident. "Let me, let me help you."

The action made you gag, hands pushing harder on his hips. It was a miracle you could breathe with how much your nose was stopped up much less with his monster of a cock down your throat.

You closed your eyes and tried to relax, focusing on your breathing and blocking out the sensation of him filling you up. It was a task easier said than done. Silas moans above you, high and needy like always, long ears down and twitching; his entire face blushed a deep red.

When this was first proposed, you fought it, like always; your weak attempts did nothing to phase him. His strength compared to yours was like night and day; he easily picked you up from the floor where he found you in the bathroom after dinner.

Doting on you, cleaning you up after barfing, and then claiming he had to feed his baby. That he needed to give you your medicine.

You knew what that meant. Another session of swallowing his fluids. His blood. His cum. He tried to get you to drink milk from his large chest, but that didn't work, to his disappointment, so he had to make due. He was still trying to trigger his lactation to no avail.

Not much was known of the magical realm to humans, much less elves. Magical beings were said to have healing properties, but this way was… demeaning.

A choked sound comes from you; his hips move faster as he continues to force his fluids down your throat. You open your eyes, your hands pushing harder on his hips, trying to find the strength to pry yourself off him, but he only cooed at you sweetly.

With a hand over yours, he guided it along what didn't fit in your mouth, making it run along it smoothly. The taste was overwhelming, and his cock had a velvety texture over your tongue, making it difficult to resist the sensation. Letting out a muffled cry, you looked up at him, tears going down your cheeks, trying to convey your discomfort, but he only smiled down at you, tears in his own eyes.

"Just a little longer." He urged, moans escaping his lips as you gargled on his length. "A little longer and you'll feel better. Mommy will make you feel so good, I promise."

The sound of his voice was both soothing and unsettling, as you struggled to comply with his demands. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the taste of him becoming more unbearable with each passing second. But you knew you had no choice but to endure it, hoping that eventually it would all be over. As you fought back the urge to gag, his grip on your head tightened, pushing you further down.

Moaning in pleasure, he gently patted your hair, whispering words of encouragement that only added to your discomfort.

"Such a strong baby. You'll be full soon, so full and happy."

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to block out the sensations overwhelming you. With how fast he was moving and how loud he was, it wouldn't be long.

His hips stuttered, his breathing becoming more erratic as he reached his peak. The sound of his pleasure-filled moans filled the room, making your skin crawl even more.

As he finally came, your mouth was filled even more. The hot, fruity taste of his release made you gag, but you forced yourself to swallow it down, knowing there was no other choice.

"There you go, there you go." He encouraged, making sure to keep his hold on you until you swallowed every drop.

He was groaning as he felt your tongue travel along his length, sending shivers down his spine. He almost felt his knees give in from the sensations, but he held on, reveling in the pleasure you were giving him.

As he released his grip on you, you felt a wave of relief wash over you; this gave you the moment to gasp for air. The room fell silent, the only sound being the heavy breathing of both of you.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you tried to compose yourself. Harder for you than him. Although you were still experiencing headaches and body aches, at least your nausea had subsided. The frown was back on your face, something that you never really tried to hide anymore.

Silas wiped the remnants from your chin before kissing you gently, his tongue going into your mouth in a slow, sensual manner. He let the kiss go on for what felt like an eternity, his hands exploring your body with a gentle touch. Eventually, he pulled away with a soft smile, cupping your face as he pecked your nose, ignoring the way you glared at him.

"Come sleep with mommy, baby!"

He looked fine, aside from the light blush on his cheeks and pointy ears. As cheerful as always, fixing himself to get ready for bed, he preferred to sleep in the nude.

You really couldn't stand him, you thought, a grimace on your face as you reluctantly followed him to bed. The two of you followed your usual routine since you've been sick.

He made you drink a mysterious liquid from a glass; it was a dark red, almost like blood, and knowing him, it most likely was.

He grinned broadly when you handed him the glass back after drinking it. The taste was of iron and cherries, a strange combination that surprisingly wasn't as bad as you expected. You couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was giving you, but you were used to it by now. His coddling, his singing, and his insistence on taking care of you despite your protests.

You were used to it all by now. Plus, you were really too exhausted to fight anymore.

With you nestled against his chest and a blanket around the two of you, his arms encircling your body like a vice, he was beyond happy. Silas always had a way of getting what he wanted, even if it meant invading your personal space. You couldn't stand him or his behavior at times.

Occasionally, though, he was right.

The effects of his bodily fluids were no doubt working their magic on you, leaving you feeling surprisingly content. You felt warm all over and strangely full in your stomach, like if you had eaten a delicious soup. Your throat was finally free of the acid from barfing and whatever he had done to it.

Looking at him, he slept peacefully, snoring lightly as he laid next to you in bed. Despite his annoying habits, there was a sense of comfort in his presence.

No, no. That wasn't it.

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. The warmth of his body next to yours was simply soothing, nothing more.

You weren't thinking straight; it had to be the fever getting to your brain.

It didn't help that you really needed to get some sleep.

Relaxing more against him, you felt your eyes grow heavier, the sound of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful slumber. The fever-induced delirium was taking its toll, but for now, you were content to drift off in his comforting embrace.

[eccentricallygothic]

Strict Mommy!Abby Anderson | Sadistic Miss!Ellie Williams | Naive Little!You. 

Warning(s): Heavy d/s dynamics, mommy kink, miss kink, slapping, rough stuff, sadism, praise kink, use of strap ons, cunnilingus, allusions to anilingus, ass play, you are a slut sandwich, dacryphilia, humiliation, degradation, power imbalance, nipple play, infantilization, hair pulling, spit play, puppy kink, allusions to face sitting, they're both possessive and competitive over you, pure brain rot because I do and write stupid shit when I am in a real mood. Minors do not interact. 

Yes, Abby and Ellie hate each other and for good reason. 

But if they were to make a truce? What– no, who would be the common interest?

Why, sweet little too dumb to even breathe by herself little you, of course.

Your legs that are covered in glittery pink stockings dangle from the sides of Abby's muscular thighs as your knees bob up and down each time she jostles your form upwards by the breathtaking push of her pelvis. 

A sob curls in your throat from how one of her favorite strap ons hit you deep in your sensitive spot but before it can make its way past your lips, the sound dies down because of how your mouth stretches around Ellie's cunt. 

Your fucked out mind feels as though it is melting out of your ears and eyes in the form of heat and tears that stream down your cheeks. You choke and gurgle on Ellie's juices while your tongue obediently laps at the hot, cherry red stripe of flesh between her pretty milky white petals, nose flared to the max as you try to breathe through them as much as possible. 

Abby's hot lips come to hover next to your ear, one hand tightly holding your wrists behind your back and the other toying with your much sensitive and sore nipples that are in their tender state due to the women's cruel sucking and biting at them.

“Fuck yeah, pretty girl, just like that” Abby is the softer one of the pair, although it is more of a lesser of two evils situation if you are being honest. “Your sweet little pussy is taking Mommy's cock so well” if it weren't for Ellie holding you in place by the hair on the top of your head with her cunt further nailing you all the way down to Abby's balls, the force of the blonde woman's thrusts would have required her holding you by the waist so you wouldn't fall off her cock. “Such a good babygirl for your Mommy, aren't you?”

Your pussy is so wet and stretched around the strap on that you whimper into Ellie's opening as your tongue fights to make an opening for itself, but the strain that the girth of Mommy's cock is putting on the band of your hole only adds to the heat in your clit. Your hips are pulled taut against one another with strings of the orgasm that steadily builds in the pits of your abdomen. It will be the first of many. 

“Dirty fuckin' slut” Ellie rasps when she pulls you off her pussy with a jerk. Your mouth falls open and worked up tongue hangs past your lips like that of a dog. “Crying like a stupid little baby but fucking herself silly on Mommy's cock and slurpin' up my cunt like a bitch in heat” her sadistic fingers cracked across your face and your face dangled to the side, flush cheeks smeared in her juices. “Just so innocent, aren't you?” You cry out as Abby twists your nipple between her fingers while her hips pounds your pussy harder and harder. “You can put up the act for others all you want, but I know what you are” you flinch when she spits on your face, the blob landing on the crease between your nose and under eye. Ellie leans down a little to whisper her words, your racing heart leaping up in anticipation as your back arches from how Abby feels for your pussy with her free hand to rub it. “A filthy little doggy slut” another slap lands on your face and though you cry out, your pussy only clenches harder around the textured girth of Abby's cock. “That's all you are.” They never say it out loud anymore. The last time they had done so had ended up in a fight. So now they choose to claim their ownership over you in less verbal and more physical ways.

It is always a competition between the two of them.

And you're both the playdough and the trophy. 

“Aw, look at this pretty little cry baby” Abby tries to divert you toward herself by wrapping her fingers around your throat for grip. “Such a sensitive little thing for Mommy” when she tries to push you further back against herself, Ellie's dark eyes flash with anger and your scalp burns with how she pulls you closer to herself. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Ellie doesn’t look at Abby and nor does she acknowledge the older female. Instead, all of her ire and reproach gets directed towards you; their ragdoll. “No, you dirty little cum dump, I am not done with you just yet” though Abby says nothing, she growls and increases the force of her thrusts -if it's even possible-, her warm lips attacking your neck to suck new marks into your delicate skin. “Here, take it!” Ellie slaps your tits this time, clapping them together before she turns and then reaches behind her to coil your hair around her scarred fingers in such a way that both sides of your head are in her grip. “You like it, don't you, you dirty little pup?” She starts to roll her hips in rapid succession, as a result of which your lips and face bury in her ass cheeks and your head swishes from side to side from the facial her ass is giving you. 

Ellie loves to sit on your face.

And you sit on Abby's.

“Such a brave little girl for us, aren't you honey?” Abby's reassuring words are the bridge that you need along with Ellie's rough handling. You can't take any one of the two extremes without the balance of the other. It simply isn't your preference. 

Your Miss and Mommy aren't wrong, you are a dirty little slut.

“Stop whining and take it like a good pup” Ellie grunts as she pushes her ass against you until your face has fully tucked into it, your lungs scream for air while your head spins from how Abby is abusing your g-spot with her fat cock. 

Sticking out your tongue against Ellie’s holes, you go to work just how your Mommy and Miss have taught you.