#like regardless of moral stance

[icryyoumercy]

i think, at some point, those books need to address the subject of same-sex relations, not in a ... moral? way, but

there's so much blackmail and secrecy and such, rife for exploitation and intrigue and upsetting everything. and all it'd take to fix it is the emperor and the archprelate going 'actually, we do not give a fuck, and if anyone is trying to blackmail you, inform such-and-such representative of your political or clerical entity', and then set up trustworthy people to report to

and since things like women's rights and worker's rights already require there being a way to report violations, they'd not even need to set up a network for reporting things anonymously

[scrawnytreedemon]

While I intend this blog to remain a largely news-free space due to the constant hellstate of the world, let me be clear that I stand in full support of both the Palestinian and Jewish peoples who are currently experiencing relentless hate and suffering in these horrid times.

I am disgusted at the number of people, especially "progressives" on this website who have used this situation to spread both Islamophobia and Antisemitism. This goes double if you dared to reblog those "punch nazis/fascists <3" and "[x] are welcome here!" posts while in the next breath spreading dangerous fucking narratives that kill people.

So many people in online political spaces evidently see this as nothing more than a case of picking "sides", when ultimately what matters is supporting the oppressed against fascist governments and militias, wherever they are.

Common people will always have more alike with each other than their leaders. This is not a novel concept. Your activism should always be motivated by love and compassion first, and hatred second. If you use your beliefs as an excuse to find an acceptable target to vent your hatred towards regardless of the actual material outcome, you are no fucking activist.

You're a bigot.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

polite and gentle reminder that it is perfectly okay to not say anything about any particular subject, because moralising about events and people that are not real on the internet does not in fact make you a defender of the good and righteous, but instead just makes you and the people around you miserable when everybody inevitably has to hash out the same argument again and again to no avail

[dragonofthemountain]

somebody mentions my current hyperfixation and every nerve in my body lights up like a christmas tree

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ribbon, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook asks you what you would do to him if he was naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. He really is asking for it, isn't he?

warnings: rated M (18+) – JK is insolent bc he's secretly nervous smh; reader is unafraid to challenge him; smut (fem reader, he's obv naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair, hand appreciation (?) spit kink, photography during sex, use of safe word, m-receiving oral, edging, f-masturbation); non-idol!AU; switches between reader's POV and JK's POV

--

“I’ve been wondering – do you ask me these questions because you’re bored, voyeuristic, or propositioning me?”

“W… What?”

“Hm? I’m allowed to ask that, aren’t I? Or can only you ask the questions?”

-

Truth to be told, you already had a good guess. It was just more fun to put someone on the spot. Strange that, even with the certain, ahem, reputation you had, people still took the time to misconstrue. It was tiring. Not entertaining in the slightest. Well, being entitled and self-serving was human nature. You didn’t mind it, as long as one owned up to their shamelessness.

Which never happened.

One could hope.

Regardless, you were willing to entertain when you felt like it. However, you refused to be a performance monkey. Even that practice was becoming obsolete as people realized the inhumanity of it all. If only the same could be applied to openly sexually active femme fatales. Sigh. For this reason, you avoided dating, both because it was exhausting and because we all die alone. Mhm. And, due to your rigid stance against romance, you of course kept finding yourself in long-term relationships. The universe never ceased with its paradoxes. With age came a rare lull. You figured that surely now was the time to be alone. Thus, the universe put Jeon Jungkook in your path, who did everything except for leaving you alone.

Ah.

The universe and its great paradoxes.

You were well aware of his fascination with your freak. He was green to it, too. It was the off-hand questions trying to catch you off guard paired the attempts at producing shock factor to a seasoned veteran that were the dead giveaway. Not that things weren’t moving forward as they normally did. A drag racer was slower than how you and him were progressing. Eh, you always believed time was a finite resource. So, you let him lead you along while skirting the edges of what if. Mostly to test his persistence. Alright, it was pretty fun for you as well. But the next evolution couldn’t quite continue without discussion.

Even nymphomaniacs could have morals.

Sometimes.

You watched his thoughts play out on his face. He was stuck in the mental battle of societal expectations, self-respect, and the truth. You wondered which would win.

“I… Just bored. That’s all,” he mumbled.

Hm. Societal expectations won. To be expected. Someday he would work up to the truth on the first try. He was one of those men with a pretty face, an arm sleeve of tattoos, and few reservations. But one of them was still sex, because sex was an undefined creature that he was still attempting to domesticate to that fantastical mold that media tended to favor. False idols attracted fanatics and fanatics generated payola. The most profitable subscription service was the lies that bound society.

It was what it was.

You weren’t surprised or disappointed by it. Didn’t hold it against him either. You leaned against the sofa cushions, facing him. With a smile. His jumpiness was quite cute. The tip of his tongue danced over his lower lip in involuntary nervousness. He had a tiny mole underneath his mouth, right at the center, that you were mildly obsessed with and hadn’t told him yet. Large black-brown eyes that shattered the tough image he was trying to aspire to but you weren’t going to tell him that. His style was big, baggy, and dark. Today was no exception. Black t-shirt, black track pants, gray beanie. Didn’t even dress up for the occasion of trying to bang you in his basement.

Well, trying to get you to bang him in his basement, actually.

You preferred it this way. It was authentic. You proceeded to question him. Just because you knew why he said what he said didn’t mean you had to accept it. You were trying to get to know him, after all.

“Is that so? Just bored, so you wanna get tied up?”

-

Actually, his reason was that he was horny. Which was probably obvious, but wasn’t something Jeon Jungkook felt like confirming. He learned for the start that she was not the subtle type. She did not seem to mind making the first move, so much so that Jungkook hadn’t realized she had until she had him backed in a corner that one time. It was a refreshing change. However, he had made the mistake of putting up an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude in attempt to match her confidence when he very much did give a fuck. He gave a lot of fucks. To be more precise, he was trying to get fucked. And now trying to make her think it was her idea.

It was going…

Well.

Ish.

He knew from their first meeting that she was endgame. He didn’t do anything about it, because that would have gotten him labeled as a creep. Jeon Jungkook had flaws, but he was not a creep. He wasn’t her target at the time either, so. That was that. Over the years as he learned more about her, he was even more convinced that she was it for him. She was clever, resourceful, and unafraid to be the villain in someone’s story if it meant doing what was right. Sometimes you have to be a little bad to do a lot of good, she once said. It stuck with him. He used to think that his one true love would have to be his career. Film school was not cheap either. Money was required for existing, sadly. A person would, therefore, always come second. But, right now, seeing the way that her sleek black turtleneck and those tapered slacks draped over her body as she sat beside him on his black leather sofa, knowing that she was gently chastising him with her teasing smile, and, hell, even knowing that she in no way fell for his bait – there was no one else. There would never be anyone else. He just knew.

Whether it worked out or not, uh, remained to be seen.

Outlook was currently bleak.

“Why are you into that stuff, anyway?”

She leaned her head against the back of her hand with her elbow on the back of the sofa. “I’m not so much into it as it is my very nature.” The tip of her tongue grazed the edge of her teeth. He wanted her to bite him. He could also listen to her talk all day. But he would prefer the biting first. “Personal lore aside, everyone has things they are passionate about. Such as you and your mini movie theater down here.”

She was referring to the room they were in now, with the projector and sofas. The basement allowed him to enjoy the surround sound without disturbing his neighbors. There were a couple folding chairs leaning against the far wall for extra seating when he felt like hosting a karaoke night. He was actually very interested in her personal lore but maybe it was too much childhood trauma dump for this sexually charged moment. She knew time and place like that.

“People will talk behind your back if you like sex that much,” he pointed out.

Not for the first time, it seemed. “They talk behind your back even if you don’t like sex that much,” she chuckled, the oscillating blue-and-purple mood lighting making her eyes gleam. “For instance, I know for a fact that people speculate about your sexual prowess all the time. I’ve heard stuff.”

Jungkook doubted that. People possibly couldn’t be that unhinged. “Like what?”

She mused. “Like how you have a huge dick and are super dominant in bed.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Uh… huh…”

She smiled at him.

The same way a lioness would smile at a desert hare.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be thought of in such a… nice… way. It would be an ego boost if she hadn’t made it sound so objectifying. There was something off about it. Like looking into a mirror and seeing a blemish he didn’t remember having. He watched her eyes rather than looking into them. They had a distinct, sharp shape that reminded him of his favorite female characters in video games. She leaned a little closer. She always wore very nice perfume. Her natural scent was better, though. Tasting skin on tongue and breathing in at the same time, feeling her breath scatter at his touch, now that was perfection.

She ticked her head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He realized he was slouching and straightened. He was most certainly not leaning forward in eagerness. Or anything like that. Nope. “You didn’t answer mine either.”

“I answer your hypotheticals every day. Humor me.”

Yeah, and didn’t offer to test any of them. He did his best to not feel bitter about it. He felt bitter about it anyway. “I said I was just bored.” Her waist-to-ass ratio was accentuated by her sitting position. Unreal.

She either didn’t notice his wandering eyes or didn’t mind it. “They say the first thought you have is the thought you have been conditioned to have.” Her hand was resting on her thigh. Didn’t move. She had said earlier the glittering reflective dark blue color she was wearing was from a Star Wars nail polish collection. It made the points of her almond manicure glisten in the low lights. “True feelings take a little more time to process.”

His eyes traveled up.

He wondered if she had ever thought about chilling the fuck out.

“What if you were the one being tied up?” he asked shadowed eyes.

She frowned slightly. “Now that sounds boring. For me, personally.” She stuck out the tip of her tongue before adding, “Hate that.”

He leaned onto his knees. “Oh, but you’re ready to do it to someone else?”

Her eyes slid downward to track his movement. “In my defense, you asked,” she said softly. Dangerously. “There’s no need to stress for compatibility. It’s either there or not.”

A pause.

In all honesty, Jungkook had first started asking the vulgar questions to see if he could throw her off guard. Then it became fascinating how unbothered she was by it. At some point, he couldn’t really help it anymore because he had become suddenly aware that she was aware of her effect on him. She had begun to notice how acutely he was listening to her answers. How he always had an involuntary reaction to her standing close to him. One time, he had felt the tips of her fingernails grazing over his lower back and visibly shivered. She had paused. Given him this look. He had held it but didn’t say anything. They were amongst other people. Must have been an accident. The next time, she did it intentionally. He held himself together better this time, but still returned the same knowing stare.

It became a silent game they played, just the two if them.

He asked the question of if she ever considered being on the receiving end of the power dynamic. She always rejected. He knew by now. He was only asking to stall for time. It was a dumb question, because nothing was a front with her. He liked that. He liked that she didn’t try to control anyone around her but rather had complete control of who she was. Didn’t try to convince anyone to change their opinion of her even though Jungkook hated it when he heard other people call her a slut. They used to be his friends but he stopped talking to them. He didn’t want to deal with that shit. He could get new friends.

He tilted his head at her.

She mimicked him, intrigued.

“So, you’re all talk and no walk?”

-

Damn, Jeon Jungkook was really trying to push your buttons today. You had to admire the audacity. Or maybe he was just horny. Nah, let him have the gumption. You hard let him get pretty close already, to test the waters of your compatibility, and you were feeling pretty confident about it. In conclusion, very successful. But nothing as intense as what he was suggesting. Pushing for, really. The best course of action was to talk about logistics and follow up some other time. That wasn’t really the way you or he rolled, though.

“What’s your safe word?” you asked plainly.

Jungkook looked confused. “Safe word?” he echoed.

You nodded. “Mhm. You know what that is, don’t you?”

His dark eyes shifted. “Uh. Yeah. Of course.” He frowned. You waited. “Stop?”

You almost laughed out loud. Almost. “Try something more obscure,” you coaxed. “Sometimes we say stop out of habit but not because we mean it.”

Jungkook was giving you this look. Fiercely protective with an even split of jealousy. “Oh, so you do this often, huh?” A little accusatory.

You blinked slowly.

Gave the time to let his own words sink into his ears. Then you said, “I’m fine walking out of here and pretending you never existed. I’m really good at playing the ignoring game.”

He got the hint. Winced and looked away. There was a bit too much pride to apologize for his rude remark. You could tell he sort of wanted to, yet the seconds marched on. The silence extended. Well. As long as he got the hint that you weren’t tolerating that shit.

“S… Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

You stilled a bit, wondering if you heard correctly. “Apology accepted.” You decided not to hold it against him since he proved you wrong. “The safe word is not just for you. It’s for me, too, so I can alert you that you’re asking for something I’m not willing to do. So, technically, it’s for us.”

Us.

That seemed to reignite his interest. “There’s stuff you’re not willing to do?” Of course that was what he was curious about.

You half-smiled. “Mhm. Such as heavy physical abuse. Blood play. Also, I’m not into cages. Those types of things aren’t for me.”

His eyes widened. “O… Oh.”

You ticked your head teasingly. “Disappointed?”

His eyes darted away. His deep voice became small. “Kinda scared… What even is…” He quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, okay. Yeah. I understand.”

You didn’t fill the silence. You let him think about it. Giving him an easy out if he wanted it. To be honest, this wasn’t your plan for tonight. Maybe some making out, but you didn’t walk in the door thinking about blindfolding Jeon Jungkook, tying him up, and having your way with him. Bit of an excessive lead-in. Hm. Suited him, though. You would have worn something less boring if this was your plan for seduction. Turtleneck and slacks weren’t exactly screaming I-am-going-to-fuck-your-brains-out.

“Yanggaeng.”

You broke out of your thought bubble. “Sweet bean jelly?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I was thinking about food.”

You liked that. “Mmm. You have rope? Fabric. Preferably all-natural.”

He shook his head. “Uh… I have some leftover ribbon from wrapping Christmas presents?”

You considered it.

“Eh, that’ll work.”

-

The tight turtleneck and tailored slacks looked even better when she stood up. Her sensual figure was made imposing by the cut of the fabrics. Either she was very good or very lucky at selecting clothing. He could clearly see the enticing body lines while at the same time seeing nothing at all. Even her shadow looked good. He felt a bit like a potato next to her. Best not to think about it too much. He changed the mood lighting to red. For ambiance. She let him know what she needed. He told her to stay and wait. A spool of dark cranberry velvet ribbon, a pair of scissors, and one folding chair later, she tucked her hands in her pockets and tilted her head at him.

“Blindfold?”

Jungkook went off in search of a silk sleeping mask. Close enough, right?

“Ah, smart.” She nodded. “Okay, strip.”

He stared at her. “Uh.”

She looked back at him, unbothered.

The silence extended.

“You weren’t serious about that?” she finally asked.

Calmly, as if she was asking for clarification of his lunch order. Awkward. He bit back his tongue. He looked from the line up of collected objects on his basement coffee table and then back at her. Instead of looking expectant, she looked curious. They hadn’t seen each other fully naked yet. Just mostly. And touched. But that was different.

“What about you?”

She glanced down. Then back up. “In due time.” There she went with that lioness smile again. “It’ll be a temporary embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he shot back instantly and then regretted it. But she didn’t taunt him. Just continued standing there. He touched the seat of the folding chair. “It’s kinda cold.”

She looked around. “You have linens down here? A hand towel in the bathroom?”

“There’s some on the bar cart back there.”

This was happening. Really happening. It was sinking in now. All the more reason to not think about it. He yanked his t-shirt off as she searched the bar cart for the spoken towels. He plucked his beanie off too, and realized how flat and unappealing his hair must look. He had not planned this, obviously. Quickly, he made his way to the bathroom by the stairs. Yup. His reflection was not it. It took some water and aggressive pushing back to fix his hair. Wet dog was a better look than compressed.

She seemed a little perplexed when he re-entered the room. There was a plush white towel on the seat of the chair now. She was holding another one in her hands. She immediately looked over to him as he approached. Made zero comment about his shiftlessness.

Rude.

“You’re wet.”

He snatched the spare towel from her hand. “Turn around.”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

He thwacked the edge of the towel against her hip. She looked down, acknowledging the action, but didn’t react much. Raised her head with a slight tilt. He tried not to blush. Believed he had succeeded with the combined force of sheer willpower and a hearty dose of delusion. He glared.

“I’m going to see everything and you won’t get to see my reaction,” she reminded him.

He clutched the pearly white towel quite intensely. “So what?”

She smiled. In that way. “You can use your safe word if you want.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Turn. Around.”

She searched his face for a second. Then, she did as he asked, facing the other way so her back was to him. Damn. Nice ass. Not the first time he thought that. He must be crazy. She had given him the option to drop it all and go back to just the usual hot-and-heavy-almost-there. He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was twisted upwards, trapped in a claw clip. The covered nape of her neck made his blood run hot. He pressed his lips together before slapping the towel over his shoulder and reaching into his pocket, pulling his phone out and setting it on the coffee table. Then he took off his pants and boxer briefs.

He picked up the sleeping mask.

Sat down, draping the towel over his crotch before turning off the lights for himself behind black silk.

“Okay.”

Now would be a good time to get out of his head.

Sadly, that was not how life worked. And so Jungkook was forced to endure the revelation that he was not Daredevil, sigh. His hearing did not suddenly become more sensitive due to the absence of sight. Fuck. Hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider recently either. Damn. He heard nothing but the hum of the wine fridge. He tried to listen for any movement – rustling clothes, a change in breathing, even a single dust bunny shivering, but there was nothing but a looming sense of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing.

A fingertip touched his cheek.

He almost flung himself off the chair. He would have lost his chastity towel in the process though, so instead he clutched it and jerked his head, realizing partway that it was probably a bad idea. He might startle her with his sudden movement. He froze.

Her voice floated down, dreamlike and airy.

“Was I not supposed to turn around?”

“I… I wasn’t expecting…” Which was a dumb thing to say. Duh, she was supposed to turn around.

“Jumpy like a bunny.,” she purred.

His breath caught in his throat.

Her fingertip had only left for a second but it was back again, tracing his cheekbone. Then he felt the other three follow in a cascading caress. His skin tingled. Her fingers danced down, cradling his jaw. His body felt strange. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins. She gently guided his head back to face forward, cupping his chin in the base of her soft palm. He could smell her hand lotion. Herbal and warm with a hint of yuzu. The pad of her thumb touched his lower lip.

Then her lips were by his ear.

He felt her breath stroke his earrings.

“Can you see anything?” she softly asked.

He almost choked.  Somehow, he held it together. At least, he thought he did. “Fuck no.”

She tipped his head back. He realized he had instinctively closed his eyes under the sleeping mask anyway. He didn’t try to check if he could see but he heard her say, “I’d like for it to be nice and snug. That fine with you?”

He gave her the classic, “Whatever.”

That made her stifle a chuckle at least. Her hand let go of his chin. He let out the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He felt her adjust the plastic slider against the elastic so it was a little tighter and added alight pressure. Then he felt her wrist lift his chin and then her warm hand slid down his neck, fanning over his chest. He gasped and then immediately shut his mouth. Her other hand touched his forehead and tipped his head back once more.

Her lips brushed against the edge of his.

“Ready to get tied up?”

No, Jungkook was not ready. His heart was beating in his throat and cutting off all his air. His blood was on fire. What was scaring him was not what was happening but his reaction to it. The epitome of desire was too physical. It was freaking him out. Her name escaped his lips. He did not like the way it sounded to his ears. Hopefully she didn’t catch any of the nuance.

“Mhm? What’s wrong?” Her breath mixed with his breath.

He sucked in air. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

She kissed him.

He didn’t expect that at all. If it wasn’t for the damn chair, he would have tumbled to the ground. It was only a press of lips to lips, lasting for perhaps one very long second. Her lips were very soft. Plush. Fun to kiss, he had always thought to himself. And then she pulled away with a satisfied sigh.

“I know what I’m doing. Do you remember the safe word?”

He heard her pick up the scissors.

-

“I’m not going to need the safe word.”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t see it, thankfully. You could only control yourself for so long. You stood behind him, holding the velvet ribbon and scissors. “What’s the safe word?” you repeated, more sternly this time.

“Yanggaeng.” Jungkook scoffed like a bratty kid that wasn’t getting his way. If he didn’t look so good naked and if you didn’t have the patience, you would have called this off by now. “You’re not gonna get all crazy on me, are you?”

Was it your imagination, or did he sound a little bit scared?

This probably wasn’t the time to bring up snuff films. “Good thing you have the safe word,” you remarked, crouching down and unraveling the ribbon. The cranberry-colored ribbon had weight and a sleek pile. It was the high-quality velvet. The price was still on the paper spool. Damn. His family must have gotten some nice gifts. You snipped off a decent length and called out to him. “Bring your hands back here.”

He hesitated for a second. You waited. His shoulders shifted and he crossed his wrists behind the folding chair. The muscles of his arms stood out, one bare and the other accented by dark, colorful, swirling tattoos from hand to shoulder.

You did smile.

What? His obedience was cute.

But you took a moment to readjust so his hands were side by side instead of crossed. You also turned his wrists inward so the pressure points wouldn’t be stressed. He would probably twist and move around eventually but you preferred to start off like this. You made sure there was some distance between his hands before you made a loop and began wrapping around both wrists.

“How do I know that you would even listen if I said the safe word?”

“I’m not going to gag you,” you replied a matter-of-factly. After a few wraps, you turned the ends perpendicular to the loops and crossed them before beginning to weave them parallel to his extended arms. “You can yap however much you want.”

“Yeah, but are you gonna listen?”

You paused before making the knot. “You don’t think I will?”

“I dunno. What if you go beastmode or something?”

Ah. You brushed aside your initial hurt feelings once you realized he wasn’t personally attacking your character. “If I could go beastmode, I would find a way to make money off it, not use it on you when you’re tied up like a Christmas present.” You tied a square knot. Fuck it. And added a bow to finish it off. You saw him test his restraints.

“… You do know what you’re doing, huh?”

“I keep telling you that and you keep not believing me.” You unraveled another long length and snipped it off.

Jungkook heard it and flinched. “What are you doing now?”

You were about to cut another one to match but you stopped. “I’m going to tie your ankles to the legs of the chair.”

“O… Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I… It’s whatever.”

You felt a muscle in your cheek twitch. “Do you want to stop?”

He shrugged as much as he could. “Up to you. You’re in charge, right?”

You had not known Jungkook on a personal level for very long but you had enough intimate moments to know when he was being a cocky lil shit. It was mostly a bluff of false confidence to hide his nervousness. But it was annoying. He was basically low-key making fun of you. Well, not you specifically but BDSM in general. Probably unintentionally and out of ignorance, which was why you hadn’t brought down the axe yet. You licked your teeth, thinking.

He called your name.

In the same way he did before, when you had been holding his chin and asking if he was ready to be tied up. Low. Breathless. Fleeting, as if he didn’t want you to really hear it. You softened slightly at that. You cut the last length and let him hear you put the scissors and ribbon back onto the coffee table. Your misgivings would probably resolve themselves. You trusted him that much, at least. Whether or not that was a mistake would soon be known. Still, you had to teach him a lesson. You couldn’t let him think you were going to tolerate these comments forever. Then you got an idea. An awful idea.

You got a wonderful, awful idea.

You smiled the entire time as you bound his ankles to the legs of the chair.

-

“You scared?”

“Not really.”

This was fine. Everything was fine. Jungkook was not scared. One, because he totally wouldn’t be intimidated by a girl. Ever. Yup. Not him. And, two, because she had assured him that she was not going to go crazy on him and she totally wouldn’t lie. Right. So. He would be fine. His limbs were getting a bit cold now but his chest felt hot, as if someone was pointing a heater on his ribs. Cooked, if you will. He breathed in deeply yet quietly, trying to relieve the undefinable tension. She was behind him because he heard the click of her claw clip. Must be readjusting her hair. Haha. He was worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like she had whips and chains in her purse.

He heard her breathe in.

He was about to quip, are you nervous, but then he felt her hands close in around his forearms.

Her fingernails skimmed over his skin and dragged down.

He stiffened at the rising tingling sensation. It bloomed from his arms up to his shoulders, crawling down his pecs and into the pit of his stomach. His breath caught in his throat. Did time stop or was it due to the fact that he couldn’t see? Her warm touch closed in the cold backs of his hands. The binding around his wrists was secure but allowed her to turn his palms outward. Her lips touched the pads of his fingers.

She kissed his hands.

Never in a million years did he think she was going to kiss his hands. He was bound to a chair, blindfolded, naked, and the one isolated sensation he could feel was her lips traveling over the lines of his palms. His fingertips. Her breath trailing after. He could hear the delicate sound drifting up from below. He felt her fingers cup his, caressing his knuckles, and shivers slid up and down his body, diffusing the heat from his chest to his limbs. It was weirdly intimate. More intimate than sticking his dick in someone, which seemed fucking impossible, but it was. He didn’t know how to react. His entire body was frozen.

His breathing went shallow.

Her tongue slid out and curled around his right index finger.

Warm. Wet. Agile. His legs were spread open, locked in place by the binds. The towel was still draped over his crotch. He felt it shift when his dick twitched as her tongue licked his hands. There was almost no sound. Saliva dripped down his fingers. He suddenly felt her warm mouth closing in around two of them. She must be low on the ground to do that since his elbows weren’t raised at all. Jungkook bit back what was surely to be an embarrassing sound.

His fingers were halfway in her mouth when she said, “You can make noise, you know.”

Somehow, she was able to enunciate while sucking. His cock twitched again. “W-What are you talking about?” He only stuttered because he had not realized what little breath he had. “You haven’t… Haven’t done anything yet.” His racing heartbeat was choking him again.

She exhaled, low and slow.

His fingers slid out of her mouth with a wet plop. Then into the warmth went the fingers of his left hand, her tongue snaking in between, back and forth. Her pointed fingernails dug into the backs of his hands, almost pulling him. The persistent tingling danced all over his skin. He sucked in a breath. His hands were let go and then it was only her hot mouth traveling all over his fingers and palms. She hummed and the vibration coursed through his entire body. It was foreign and sensual and mind-numbing. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. He kept thinking about how good it would feel to wrap his wet, slippery hands around his growing erection and yet he couldn’t, trapped in her circling tongue.

He shuddered.

His right thumb was pressed against something hard and cold.

It lasted for maybe a millisecond. His brows knitted together in confusion. Then he felt her tongue slide up his right forearm, dripping saliva. Soaking the velvet. He couldn’t feel her hands anymore. The trail of kisses traveled up his arm and to his shoulder. He leaned into it, wanting more.

“Hm. I think I found a nice place to sit,” she whispered.

He would have replied with a snappy comeback but then she started kissing his right ear, melting away his thoughts. Lightly biting. Sucking. Toying with his earrings, and he heard the zipper of her pants unravel. This was familiar territory. He let himself bask in the attention, letting out a satisfied sigh. Then he heard it.

The sound of a camera shutter.

For a moment, he thought he imagined it. He was so focused on the sensations on his right ear that he wasn’t paying attention to the left. He turned his head slightly, puzzled. Her warmth shifted. Circling. He was about to ask if she had heard it too, but then he felt her knee slide between his legs, stopping just so. He became highly aware that she was right in front of him. He moved his head to face the direction of her breath, tilting upwards. He couldn’t see but it was obvious. Her fingers laced into his now mostly dry hair and she yanked. The pain was momentary.

Click.

“Woah!”

 His hands clasped instinctively. He was quickly cognizant of his compromising position. His throat exposed, the towel barely clinging to his erection, dangerously low, and it occurred to him that she was holding his head with her left hand. He heard the sound of the camera shutter again. There was no mistaking it now. Panic shot through his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Her voice was eerily calm.

“Guess.”

Click.

Her hand turned and the base of her palm pressed against the top of the blindfold.

“Are you taking pictures of me?” he gasped, feeling his face flush hot.

She didn’t answer. She did not answer. He pulled against the velvet ribbon but his ankles and wrists were going nowhere. Her knee on the seat of the chair prevented him from moving it. He would have to throw his weight to one side to break out of her grasp but then she might be injured at the same time. His mind reeled. Click.

“Stop squirming,” she finally said.

“Stop –?” He did not know why he was hiss-whispering and yet he didn’t want to yell in her face. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Click. “You take selfies all the time.”

His cheeks were on fire. “That’s… This isn’t the same at all!” He writhed, arching his back. “You can’t… Don’t… Please!”

All of a sudden he felt her chest press against his. Or, more accurately, her breasts. Still clothed, apparently, because he felt the smoothness of the turtleneck fabric and her bra underneath. He stopped raising the volume of his voice. Her face was close to his. He was breathing very rapidly and very shallow.

“What was that?” she murmured.

His head felt hot. His pulse roared in his ears.

“D… Don’t…”

“Just the last part,” she prompted, sweet like poison.

Confusion ate through the tension. “Uh…” He racked his brain. “Please?”

“Hm.”

Click.

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but then his lover whispered, “That wasn’t the safe word.”

The safe word.

He felt the edge of the cell phone touch his collarbone.

“Y-Yanggaeng,” he gasped.

She immediately pulled back and lifted the sleeping mask.

He blinked hard even through the red mood lighting wasn’t bright at all. Hurriedly shook his head. Panting. The tension eased down his limbs, melting away. He looked up. She was right there. Her left hand was on his shoulder now, bracing herself. In her right was his cell phone. The back, showing his phone case with a print of black marble with white veining. She turned it around wordlessly.

Jungkook saw his face.

Barely. The front camera was on. The front camera was on. He frowned, confused. Huh? He glanced down at the preview of recently taken photos and it was merely a black circle. He looked up, not quite understanding. She was looking down at him with an undefinable expression.

“Eh?”

She tapped the gallery and showed him the photos. All black screens. She swiped through them until she got to the most recent photo he took – an image of falling snow in the city. It was clear that she did not actually take a photo of him. Not a single one. He tilted his head. She switched back to the camera app and turned the phone around again, bracing it against her chest before he heard the camera shutter sound again. She had used her right thumb to press the button. All of the photos were when the lens was pressed to her covered chest.

“I’m not going to need the safe word,” she echoed hauntingly.

His eyes widened.

She raised an eyebrow.

Oh. “O…Oh.” He felt his cheeks warm again.

“Using the safe word is not just for extreme pain,” she said quietly. Her expression reflected mild disappointment. “I’m not fucking around, Jungkook. The safe word is not a joke.”

“Y… Yeah.” He looked down and then immediately couldn’t focus upon seeing her naked legs. “Yeah. I get it. Sorry.” He realized he should not have made light of something that was now proven to be very important. He looked back up, hesitantly. She seemed to relax due to his reaction. Even half-smiled. Forgiven, for now. “When did you swipe my phone?”

“When I put the scissors down.”

He smirked. “Sneaky.”

She chuckled. “Surprised you didn’t notice me unlocking it with your thumb print.”

He frowned slightly. “I felt it but I wasn’t sure what that was.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was a little distracted.”

Her shadowed eyes sparkled. “I think you liked it more than you let on.” She straddled his thighs, leaning her arms around his shoulders. The towel on his crotch was barely holding on. She didn’t look down though. Just stared into his eyes. “But I had to teach you a lesson.”

“Nuh uh.” He made a face. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Her amusement was subtle like a cat. “That would have been a nasty situation.”

“You know what I mean.”

He could stare into her eyes forever.

He probably should have been madder but she was right to begin with. Plus, it was hard to care when he could feel the weight of her naked thighs on his thighs. It was hard to think when he could almost feel their bodies pressed together with little air between them.

“You can put more weight on me.”

She didn’t take the bait. “I’m good.” Her tongue slid out and traced the edge of her lips.

His eyes followed. He sucked in a breath. Glanced back up.

She regarded him curiously.

“Kiss me.”

She didn’t move. Picturesque in the shadows. Imprinted into his memory.

“Please kiss me,” he breathed, low with want.

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Pulled her body closer and he moaned into her mouth. The towel bunched up against his hard length. He felt the warm dip between her legs. So close and yet so far. She kissed him deeply, the tip of her tongue against his lip, and he craned his head forward, driven by desire. Her tongue slid inside. He sucked on it, tight. His heartbeat against his ribs. Heat rising. Intensifying.

She broke the kiss, tearing his breath apart.

He half-opened his eyes. Her lips were glossy. Gleaming in the dark.

“Hey.”

Her eyes shifted under her lashes. Pupils slightly dilated. “Hm?”

“Take a selfie.”

Bewilderment. “Right now?” She frowned a bit. “My phone is over there.”

His voice was shaking a little. “With mine.”

She pulled back her right hand. The screen was dark. She still looked perplexed but made to get off his lap.

He immediately protested. “No.”

She turned the phone around. His lock screen was his Doberman who was blissfully asleep upstairs. “I need your fingerprint.”

“Use the PIN.”

She swiped the screen with raised eyebrows. Before she could ask, he gave her the answer.

“It’s your birth date.”

Her eyes flickered to him.

“What?” He shrugged as best he could. “I have to remember it somehow.”

She looked like she wanted to say something. Didn’t. Instead, she typed it in. The last open application was already loaded. It was still on the front camera. She raised off his thighs, holding onto his right shoulder with her left hand.

“Uh. Wait. The towel.”

She paused. Looked down. Back up. “What about it?”

He pouted. “Move it.”

Something flitted across her gaze. But she didn’t ask. She angled her hips and lifted the white towel from his lap gently. Upwards, so the edges had clearance before she tossed it aside. He glanced down, just in case. He wasn’t exactly hard. Not completely limp either. He was very aroused. He could feel pre-cum leaking onto the towel under him. His eyes went back to her face. For a split second, they shared a gaze. He couldn’t quite work out her expression. She had touched him before. Sucked him when he was fully hard. But never really seen him completely naked and not hard.

Every guy was self-conscious about that stuff.

She lowered back down and slid up higher. Higher, so the top of her crotch was against his abdomen. He inhaled sharply. She reached around and cupped his head, pressing it to her chest. He almost squeaked. Her thighs pressed against his hips. He wished she was completely naked.

What? Guys thought about that stuff too!

“Only my face, right?”

“Don’t get any of me,” he mumbled to her tits. “I don’t need any pics of myself.”

“You take a lot of pics of yourself. I’ve seen your Instagram,” she chuckled and then he heard the camera shutter.

“I deleted that,” he grumbled as she let go of his head and turned the screen. He could barely make her out but the highlighted details were exquisite. The red light and deep black shadows cast her pretty face with a vampiric glow. She had said she wasn’t into blood play but Jungkook was pretty sure he would let her suck his blood.

“Satisfied?”

His mouth was open. He closed it. “Uh. Yeah.”

She smiled. “You wanna continue?”

It did not occur to him that he could stop all this right now. “What? Duh.” He wiggled in place. “I haven’t even cum yet!”

Her smile grew. “Oh?”

“Hey! You gotta hold up your side of the deal,” he complained, stressed that she wasn’t going to let him bust a nut like this. “Come on.”

She was really serving Cheshire cat now. It might have been the lighting.

“Then it’s lights out for you.”

And she pulled the sleeping mask down, leaving him in the dark.

-

There was no plan. There never was when it came to Jeon Jungkook. You just knew you would end up in some shit whenever you stepped into his place. Like tying him naked to a chair and making out with him while he was blindfolded. You loved the feeling of dragging your nails over his skin. He slipped into the darkness much more freely this time, accepting anything you did. You hadn’t removed your turtleneck or undergarments yet. It added to the ambiance. He could feel the shape of your body but not your skin and it was driving him insane. His breath caught. His body went tense.

You dragged your nails down his chest and followed it with your tongue, slithering down his legs.

His gasps were slowly turning into whines.

You pressed your hand against his hard abdomen.

You lowered your head and drenched his cock with your spit. He wasn’t hard and yet he moaned to the ceiling as you swallowed him, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You didn’t need to use your hands. You toyed with his thigh, spreading your fingers out over muscle and tapping your manicure against his skin. Moved your head back and forth. He grew harder and harder in your mouth. You kept it soft and excessively wet, sucking out the air at the back of your throat.

His moan rocked through the chair.

You worked him to full hardness rather quickly before pulling off.

“Fuck, what…?”

“Surely you didn’t think it was going to happen right away,” you said with your tongue against his balls. You held his wet dick up and out of the way, drawing one of his balls into your mouth and swirling your tongue. His whole body went stiff. You stroked the underside of his shaft at the same time.

“C-Careful.”

You held it delicately with your teeth and said, “Sensitive?”

He made a sharp sucking sound with his cheek. “A-Ah…”

You eased, pulsing, testing the limit. Licking at the same time. Jungkook made an odd moan-yelp.

“I dunno why, the biting kinda feels good…”

You changed sides, working him with your tongue first. Took him in your mouth, sucking back and forth. Tugging a little at the same time. His erection became hot. You slid your hand up and down, keeping him hard as you chewed lightly on one of his balls.

“Feels tingly…” he murmured, more to himself than you.

You let go and slid your tongue below his balls. Pinched the skin in between your teeth and placed a little more pressure there. His breathless gasp quickly turned into a moan as you sucked while jacking him off at the same time, using your own saliva as lube.

“A-ah, fuck, I’m gonna…”

You released your teeth and licked up his balls, up the length, releasing his cock milliseconds before you crammed it down your throat. His thighs snapped against the seat of the chair. He swore, or maybe that was a prayer, but you were busy planting your hands onto his thighs and sucking him off. You took him deep so he could feel your throat close in, over and over again, keeping a steady pace while building his orgasm. It was easier using gravity to your advantage. You had to spread your knees and hold your torso up so you didn’t hit your chest into anything, but that was easy to adjust to. You slid your tongue along the underside with each descent, hearing his moan drop into a hiss.

“Gonna cum, fuck–”

You pressed your lips into the base of his cock.

You felt his hips flinch and cum shoot into the back of your mouth. It flooded into your tongue, blanketing over the throbbing head of his cock, and Jungkook groaned, his collarbones standing out from the strain. Shoulders and chest tense. His thighs were rock hard in your hands. You felt him twitch. You didn’t move. The wave of orgasm shot up and rolled down, down. Slowly, he relaxed.

You swallowed, savoring it.

He shuddered.

Soft, grazing, lazy. Barely any pressure. You rocked your head up and down, licking up any excess liquid. Your turtleneck was becoming a little too warm. But then that meant your mouth would have to let go of Jungkook’s cock. And he was still hard.

So, that wasn’t happening.

You moved your hands from his thighs.

“Holy…” He panted, struggling to breathe. “Fuck, that feels good… Aaah…”

You drew your knees together. If he was paying attention then he would have heard you, but he was too busy basking the high of the afterglow. Or your mouth was too distracting. Both were possible. You drew closer. Took him a little deeper. Closed your eyes. Time slipped away. You forgot your own heartbeat, becoming one with the rhythm you commanded. Curling tongue. Excessively wet. A tight pocket in the darkness. Licking the lower base as your throat pulsed around the swollen head, and you heard his moan vibrate to the walls, the sound spreading and then falling, drenching you in his wanton want.

He came again.

You didn’t stop.

In fact, you reached between your legs to join him.

“Are you…? O-Oh, fuck. I can hear it…”

You spread your knees and slid two fingers into your pussy, letting it make a loud, wet sucking sound as you pulled out. It was more fun than pleasurable, really. The real pleasure was letting him listen to you fingering yourself while you continued sucking him off. You placed a hand on the seat of the chair to brace yourself, increasing the speed and saliva. It was noisy and obscene, the repeated sticky separation sounds, and you kept going, getting closer, your back tingling, blood burning, closer, tucking your fingers in between your upper folds instead, rubbing your clit, feeling electricity crawl up your abdomen, closer.

You pinched your clit and moaned around his cock.

Jungkook threw his head back and groaned, his hips rising into your face.

You focused only on the head. He orgasmed with a hiss and an intelligible moan, and you tucked him all the way in the back of your throat. Thankfully you didn’t choke. The volume wasn’t as much as the first one. You locked your limbs and felt your own orgasm seep into your bones, setting your nerves on fire in heated blood. Your grip on the chair tightened, unwilling to collapse under the pressure. Wave after rolling wave, scalding you with ebbing ecstasy, and you endured it while licking him clean, feeling reborn. Proud of the session.

Pretty good if you could say so yourself.

You finally removed your mouth, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You stood up, somewhat shakily, and righted yourself before plucking off the blindfold. You tossed it to the ground. Jungkook’s eyes were still closed. His black hair was damp with sweat. His chest, too, shone with a thin sheen of perspiration.

He panted, “Kiss me.”

“Do you want me to untie–”

“Fuckin’ kiss me now.”

-

She slid onto his aching, trembling thigh. Her lips felt like heaven in the hellfire, gentle against his racing pulse, pressing against his greedy mouth over and over. He could taste a hint of himself in her saliva. He felt the slick lips of her pussy on his upper thigh and he hissed between breathless breaths, “Rub on me, ugh, fuck, yes,” and she curled her fingers into his sweaty hair, pulling him to her. Tugging. Ah. Sweet, delicious pain.

He forgot he was tied up, really. It was just part of him now.

“Take it off,” he grumbled, realizing she was still wearing her turtleneck. It was a nice fabric but he wanted her naked. “How the fuck… How are you not hot in that?”

“I was busy sucking your dick,” she laughed, and he opened his eyes to see her peeling it off her body, crossing her arms. Pulling up and back to reveal her torso. He had seen it a few times already and every time he marveled. She tugged it off her head. It messed up her claw clip, but she looked better that way. More beautiful in chaos. She tossed the clothing aside and unclicked the front clasp of her bra.

Jungkook was convinced bras were made by the devil, but he couldn’t deny the magic of a front-clasp bra opening the gateway to heaven.

“Like what you see?”

He stared at her. She looked amused.

“Put them in my face right now.”

There was a certain rapport when it came to power dynamics. He didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he would get better at it. She laughed and lifted herself, dropping the bra to the ground, half-standing with one knee on the chair, and scooped up her perfect breasts to present those delicious-looking nipples to his face. He didn’t even care that he couldn’t use his hands. Ugh, they were just so perfectly soft and supple. She tasted so good. Was it creepy to think her skin tasted good? He didn’t care. She rubbed her breasts against his cheeks as he sucked, licked, buried his face into them like an excited puppy.

“I think we are losing the plot here,” she joked.

“Don’t talk to me,” Jungkook sighed, self-asphyxiating with her tits.

“I should be taking them away from you if I was really being dominant.”

He unstuck himself and planted his chin in her cleavage, staring up at her.

She looked down, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

He could have offered a witty comeback or even put on his best puppy eyes to convince her otherwise, but instead he stared into her eyes in stunned silence. His limbs were burning, now not from arousal but longing. Maybe also soreness. But mostly longing to hold her. The puddle between his legs was also alarming. His sweat was becoming cold as the seconds marched on.

“Don’t go.”

She tilted her head. “Did you think I was going to walk off and leave you tied to the chair?”

“What?” He frowned. “You’d never do that, right?”

She blinked at him.

“Right?”

“Maybe when you have more practice,” she chuckled. “What did you mean by, don’t go?”

The red mood lighting made her ethereal. “Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

A pause. “In your house?”

“Yeah?” The way she said it made him question it too. “Uh, yeah?”

She sucked in a breath while pressing her tits against his face. “Huh, I dunno… That’s usually how women get murdered.”

“Hey!” He wiggled in place, or at least as much as he could. “I let you tie me up. You should trust me by now!”

She made a thinking expression. He would be much angrier if her soft breasts weren’t caressing his cheeks. “Mmm, okay. As long as I get to tie you up before we sleep.”

His eyes went wide. “What?!”

“I’ll even put a bow on your head. You would look really cute.”

“You can’t–”

She laughed. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous.” She slid down his body and pecked him on the lips. “Let’s get you outta these ties.” She was about to say something else but then stopped. Confusion fluttered over her features. Her eyes cast downwards. He felt his cheeks flush warmly.

“Uh.”

“Why are you hard?”

“No reason.”

Those shadowed eyes drifted back up. She gave him a slow, knowing nod. “Noted.” She got up to undo the velvet ribbon ties.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he called out.

“I don’t,” she said from behind him, loosening the knot before rubbing his forearms. “You give them to me.”

Oh shit.

He did.

And would continue to.

--

masterpost

[fairuzfan]

I have concern that I may still be technically zionist despite claiming to be pro-palestine. This is because I knew very little about Palestine when October 7th happened, so in the time since I have been reluctant to have a stance on a two-state or one-Palestinian-state solution. I know now that almost all of Isreal is stolen land and recognize Isreal only exists due to colonialism, it took me a long time to learn that but I know it now. Before I knew that, I knew that regardless of the prior history that in current day Palestine is being subjected to a genocide. However, I struggle with politics and therefore struggle with understanding how a one-Palestinian-state could be achieved and have concern about what would happen to any genuinely innocent people who live in Isreal. To be clear, Isreal as a whole is guilty and I just have concern about what will happen to the portion of people in Isreal who are just as horrified as the rest of the world at what their government is doing. I do not personally know any Palestinians, so I have not known who to talk to about this especially since I do not want to overstep in any way. Theres more context I could provide but I wont because this is roughly the gist of where I am currently at when it comes to my concerns about whether or not I am still zionist. Do you have any reccomendations as to what I can do about my concerns? I am not sure whether or not I am overstepping right now by asking you this, but I do not know any other Palestians on a personal level that I can go to.

hey thanks for sending this in. i think we all have zionist biases that we have to unlearn, even i catch myself falling for it sometimes. so it's not necessarily a moral failing if you're trying to undo the zionism you've been taught. thanks for trying to undo it!

i do want to correct you a bit thought, in that *all* of israel is stolen land because israel is a settler colonial society. until it is relabeled as "Palestine" it can't not be stolen land.

I guess my advice is that you read scholarship and perspectives on palestinian thought and heritage. i can't tell you what a free palestine will look like but i can tell you what i imagine it to be. but what i can tell you is that the state of israel is fully intent on erasing all traces of palestinian life no matter what.

i guess i can tell you why "two state solutions" don't really work because there is no.... prevention of settlement building in the west bank and they'll never really promote *not* settling in the west bank. like i really cannot imagine a world where there aren't settlers on palestinian land no matter the case. and that's even not allowing palestinians the right of return to their homes and expecting them to give up what they dedicated their lives to. many palestinians in the west bank and gaza are themselves refugees because they were displaced in '48. so no matter what, palestinians will always get the short end of the stick and told to "just deal with it."

plus, why are we concerned with the supposed future danger towards israelis when the current, very real danger towards palestinians exists? shouldn't we prioritize actual events over hypothetical ones? why should we concern ourselves with the future when for palestinians its not a guarantee? i have no idea what's going to happen to gaza, for example.... shouldn't we prioritize that gaza lives on today?

i think i would question why you think israelis are inherently in danger in a one state solution? like do you assume that palestinians will all universally commit violence on all israelis? is it because you believe that hamas wants to kill every single israeli jew no matter what? if so, i think that's where your problem lies — in the assumption that peace can only be achieved through segregation just in a lighter form (because the state of israel relies on segregation as a principal of its existence as a jewish state). what about the palestinians who fear living side by side with the same people who raped, tortured, and murdered them for 75 years, or advocated for their deaths? aren't they inherently in more danger?

i mean palestinians have consistently been painted as the villains for more than 75 years. like in every aspect. i think to really truly be antizionist you need to prioritize palestinian concerns and worries over israeli ones because of how.... unwilling much of the world is to even consider them.

approaching zionism from an idea of an inequality structure is also necessary — rather than assuming its a one off system, we examine it as a perpetuation of multiple types of systems of inequality embedded into one. i recommend the institute for the critical study of zionism (click) for more information on this. There's also this book by Ismail Zayid written in the 80's (click) about the longtime violence the ideology of zionism has done to multiple communities, not just palestinians.

Here's a great reading list by palipunk about different aspects of palestinian thought and culture (click). i suggest looking through them to help decolonize our way of thought.

i might add on to this later if i think of something else to say.

[86-babyy]

Undeniable.

Part two - Insatiable.

Older!Eddie x Fem!Reader.

He’s your Dad’s best friend but when temptation comes to strong, you just couldn’t turn away.

This fic is inspired by the amazing edits of @eddiemunsons-missingnipple, which make me absolutely feral. 🫠 (pictures used in header created by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Warnings: There’s a age gap. Reader is 20, Eddie is in his 30s. Fingering. Choking. Size kink, maybe? (Eddie is big.) Dirty Talk. Eddie is tattooed to the max. Teasing, a lot of smutty goodness. Dirty thoughts and easy temptations, it’s just filthy, babes. 😘 (let me know if I missed anything)

It started small.

Like a ever present dip that strung low in your stomach, it’s soft, subtle and you almost always missed it. The creep of warmth that prickled the tips of your toes, made your chest bubble like tiny explosions weaving through your bloodstream, left you feeling slightly left of centre with no real reasoning.

It was small, dismissive and evidently so fucking obvious.

You weren’t sixteen, freshly twenty, straight out of your adolescence but you were anything but naive. You knew by the second time the feeling had woven it’s way through your hormones like stitching, pulling, twisting, tightening the thread that lead directly to your cunt— that this was every bit of what you knew it was.

It was wrong. Instinctively and morally, it was everything bad, dangerous and wrong in the world to fragile to even think about— to impulsive, playful, thoughts of sin and lust, desire and temptation— It was fucking carnage and you wanted to dip your fingers, smooth the rough edges like rippled water, you wanted to ravish and explore— let the filth cover your skin like dirt and regret.

You wanted to devour, tempt and play with him.

You could take it. That was no hesitation. Everything he could dish out, you would lick clean and ask for more.

“Hey! Look, I got to go, alright?”

The hand waving across your line of vision breaks the border between your subconscious and draws you back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. It’s fine, I’ll see you when you get home.”

He shuffles the jacket over his shoulder, the puff slowly dissipates when he zips it all the way up, a concerning smile plays his lips before stuffing the keys into the side pocket and hoisting his bag on his shoulder.

“Try to be good. It’s a late one, don’t think I’ll be back until morning, 6am at best.”

There’s a slight wince in his expression, it falls and tugs his frame along with it, the weight shifting his stance when outstretched arms pull you in.

“It’s fine, Dad. I have a whole night planned, full of pizza and shitty movies.”

You run little circles at the middle of his back, the thick jacket restrains most of your touch but he gestures with a smile in response regardless, he huffs a laugh, nods and heads for the front door.

You genuinely felt fucking terrible most days, your Dad loved what he did, strived for the best in all aspects of his career and it was truly admirable but sometimes when the days would turn to weeks and the nights would stretch longer and longer, he felt guilty, leaving you for so long, though every reassurance you noted towards him felt like it fell on deaf ears you tried none the less.

Except this time, you weren’t alone.

The gentle hum of water swam through the pipes and trickled like notes through the wall, no, you definitely weren’t alone.

The occupied upstairs bathroom was proof of that, housed by one Eddie Munson.

It was like a cruel twist of fate that landed him on your doorstep, like a perfectly timed occurrence when your Dad mentioned that Eddie was in town and would be staying over the weekend.

You had met Eddie before, many times before, see Eddie was your dads best friend. Childhood friends, in-fact.

The pipes creaked, shuttered to a holt when the water turned off. It was like a alarm that vibrated the walls, sent signals telling you to vacate before he came downstairs, telling you to hide. Four minutes. That’s exactly how long it took for you to take the gap between Eddie leaving the bathroom and going back to his room. You stumbled upstairs, each step seemingly drifting further apart with each stride until you hit the top, feet planted and making a line straight to your bedroom. It sounded good, planned perfect, down to each second until you collided with something that held resemblance to a brick wall, knocking you clean from your feet.

The patches of water residue seeps through the fabric of your shirt, bleeds and stains your skin underneath but the searing heat that bares the curve of your waist sticks like molten from the hold as Eddie bares your weight, keeping you grounded, keeps you from falling.

You feel the muscle pinch, flex beneath your palm, the water soaking between skin, seeps from one pore to other beneath your hand.

It’s soft reels of time, like everything is in slow motion, your eyes rake over the sparse of dewy skin coated in a sheen of water, drops leaving tracks as they follow the contours of definition, the inky black images show so much more refine up close, each placed line and shading painted, stained, perfectly across his chest.

Curls cling to the dip in his shoulders, wet ends create a pool in divots of his collar bone, strands of black glisten from the recent action— everything is so wet.

It’s a sickly wet that drys way to quick, beads mirror your face in tiny droplets painted across canvas that you want to reach forward and taste— the border between water and salt, the cool on your tongue mixed with the taste of him.

“Sorry, I uh, are you okay?”

The wind catches in your throat, sucks any air and words along with it when you finally land in his line of sight— deep, dark eyes fluttered beneath eyelashes that study you.

“Yeah, sorry.”

It’s a pathetic response, it’s all breath with no voice and it makes you want to sink further than you already were.

“Maybe, I should—“

In a instant Eddie let’s go. Hovers slightly to make sure you have your footing but removes himself completely, from touch, from space, stepping backwards. The loss of contact winds you without the actual impact, makes you want to run, makes you want to stay more.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s apology is quiet, knowing.

“No, please. It was my fault.”

You pull a semblance of a laugh, a dry attempt at trying to lighten the strain that had set in the air. Eddie bites back with a smile, it’s lop sided and it quirks his lips to dimple the hollow of his cheeks.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

You can’t help it. You smile. It’s small and shy, makes you dip your head to hide the growing heat that burns to the tips of your ears.

“I was just about to clean up, make a pizza, want to join?”

His voice is thick, syrupy like honey but dark like malt, it bares rough in the back of his throat but cheery none the less. You sense the hope in his words, a strained branch in offering to deescalate the situation so you nod.

“Yeah, would love too.”

The painted skull on his throat bobs along with his adams apple when he smiles, reaches behind him and opens the door and you’re quick to take the message, heading back downstairs.

It’s a mess. The whole kitchen is laid out in flour and dough, ingredients spread across the island, once were in bowls, now a muddled mess of vegetables. Eddie’s got a ball of dough, fingers and knuckles need the springy texture to a mould and he’s helplessly coated in the powdery substance. It clings all the way up to his elbows and flecks decorate his hair.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Eddie side eyes you, the gleam reflects off the light and back into you but you can’t help it. You both look a absolute mess.

“Can you blame me? You said you were good at this.”

“Hey, I am. We got dough right?”

“Yeah, and so does the kitchen floor.”

There’s a drop in his expression, a pouty look before he dips his fingers, finds were the flour has collected most and smears your cheek. The white powder blends with your laughter, to slow to avoid his actions, instead you mimic.

Fingers dip into the bag of flour, you watch Eddie hesitantly step backwards, eyes squinted in a daring gaze before you leap forward, your hand smearing white across his shirt, the trail of your hand print perfectly centred on his chest. The walls bounce with laughter, rebound and echo with squeals when Eddie comes for you. You dip and weave managing to duck under his arm before twisting on your heel and feeling the collision of your back into the counter, but that wasn’t what caught you off guard.

Somewhere between the push and pull, Eddie had reached across mid duck and when you came back up, cashing in to the counter, Eddie had caught your throat.

It was a obvious mistake, a miss of direction when you twisted the other way but the evident pressure was unmistakable. You whined, a needy gasp that slipped way to quick before you could even try to swallow it back down, the flush of your cheeks burn through the rapid of your heart rate and you lean forward. Against all better fucking judgement, you chase the feeling, you lose yourself in the hallow of boring eyes that look back at you, to far gone in the abyss— Your mind swept in a fog, dragged by your ankles and left you looking from the outside in.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Eddie moves quick, takes three steps backwards, hands raised like a wounded soldier.

“No, no. You’re okay.”

It’s breathy and loose, you mask a laugh behind in desperation to carry the banter, not make it awkward, though you very clearly already had.

He laughs but it’s weak, cautious and when he turns to finish working out the discarded dough, you don’t miss the slight tremor to his movements, the way he swallows thick.

“So, how have you been?”

You pick the vegetables, try to place them back in their respective bowls, busy hands keeps your tone light— Friendly.

“Ah, you know, here there and everywhere. Can never seem to keep my feet planted long enough to enjoy much.”

“Maybe you should settle here. You always seem to drift back.”

You catch him wince slightly and realise maybe it had come across more bitter than intended. You knew Eddie hated it here, ever since high school, or so your dad says.

“I’m sorry, I mean, you just seem—“

“No.” He laughs. “You’re right. It’s like I can’t keep away.”

There’s a playful hint in his smile when hooded eyes glance your way, just for a second. It settles deep in your stomach, the churn that pulls and tightens.

“It’s okay, if you ask me, the town is cursed.”

He laughs at this, it’s deep and throaty when he nudges your shoulder, reaches across and offers the jar of sauce.

“I think you’re on to something there. So, what’s kept you?”

You reach across to spread the sauce on the dough, watching the red seep and blend with the stark white, Eddie steps back, lets you manoeuvre in front of him to reach the sides.

“Dads wanting me to move to collage.”

You hum in response, evening the sauce into the sides, dipping into places you missed.

“And what do you want to do?”

It rumbles like a distant thunderstorm, his breath seeps across your neck from behind you, the warmth pricks bumps along your skin. The slight brush of his chest makes contact with your back, sends your mind deeper into oblivion.

“I, uh, I don’t know yet. Maybe travel.”

“Here.”

Eddie reaches around, leans into you as he guides your hand in smooth circles.

“It’s easier if you cover the whole area in one motion, the sauce will spread more easily.”

His chest moves in perfect waves as he breaths, the pressure pressing into your back with each inhale and it only sends yours into unease. Each lined breath comes short and uneven, it’s a wall that’s compressed against your rib cage, shrinks with every small move, slowly suffocating.

You nod back, willing yourself to pull some kind of composure but when his hand holds yours steady against the wavier of motion, just the view of his hand engulfing yours, sends your hormones in active overdrive.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

It’s over. Your heart shutters to a complete skip, missing several beats as your pussy throbs. It’s a dull ache that nips painfully and if you don’t find a way out now, you weren’t going to be able to stop.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie’s now leaning over you, his hair fans your shoulders, the angle of his words ring like a perfectly chimed bell through your ears as he runs a pad of his thumb over your knuckles— The task of spreading sauce long forgotten.

You instinctively lean into his touch, your throat catches on dry air, leaving a strangled groan to brush your lips. If it weren’t for Eddie keeping your hand so stable, you’d be a complete fucking wreck.

“Am I reading this wrong?”

No, god no.

“Eddie..”

“Just say the word, I’ll back off.”

No, please. Don’t.

“I don’t—“

“We’ll forget it ever happened. Go back to normal.”

But, I want it too happen.

“No, please. Eddie.”

Your hips sink backwards, finds the dip between his thighs and you grind, it’s slow and pitiful, pulls the most needy whine from your lips. Breath is sucker punched from the hollow of your chest, a tension snapped after it had been so far strung out and the gasp that hinders in your throat when Eddie pushes back has all reason bailed and running for the door.

“Fuck.”

The spoon is long discarded and Eddie’s now got both palm’s following the contour of your waist, his fingers dip in to the curve of your frame, touching and teasing the exposed skin.

It’s a helpless battle of push and pull, your heads rolled so far back it now sits in the dip of Eddie’s shoulder, while his hands play puppet along the underside of your breasts— curious palms test the water, squeeze the soft skin underneath, lengthy fingers creep to come full circle and caress you. The warmth spreads like wildfire through your veins, the pinch of fingers as he toys with your nipples has your mouth gapped and hiccuping gasps of air, it all feels like fire and ice and it makes you strain harder— Your hips arching painfully back in search of friction as his ever present bulge presses harder back, looking for one of the same.

“Jesus Christ.. Fuck.”

Eddie groans into the sparse of your throat, the mumbled words pressed into flesh when he moans around the soft of your throat. Teeth graze, pinch, bite. Sink so deep that the skin threatens to break, it’s a purple stain that bleeds instead.

“Fuck, Eddie. Please.”

It’s a complete fucking disarray when Eddie takes hold of your waist, fingertips bruise when he spins you around and hooks two palms under the back of your thighs, lifting you up like you were nothing. Your ankles meet at the small of his back, your hands graze the definition of muscle along his arms when they link around his neck. Your ass perfectly cupped in strong hands and you can absolutely feel the mess created between your thighs. It’s soft and wet, humming with pressure that begs for release and when Eddie places you on the opposite counter, needy hands drag you to the edge, it’s a collision of lips and teeth.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

A fight for air between heated kisses, Eddie’s forehead rests against yours as his fingers work at unloosing your jeans.

Black eyes bore into yours, it’s a pit of lust and desire, the edges burning with flames when he mutters the sentence, each lingering stare silently asks permission with every pop of button he releases and you simply moan back in response, in approval.

An arm slings around your waist, Eddie hoists you up slightly, enough to get a pull on your jeans and pull he does. The thick material drags down your thighs and gets tossed at his ankles.

Eddie’s taken two steps back, enough room to give way to remove your pants and underwear, now, he’s standing there— All tall and built. He’s not overly muscular, toned, but his presence is big and demanding. In one swift motion, Eddie reaches behind him, grips a handful of material and effortlessly slips it over his shoulders and head, leaves him in low hanging sweats— A curtain of curls follow suit, leaving the strays still damp to cling to the dip of his temples. The display of tattoos is mesmerising, his torso, chest all littered in black and white art, tales of story’s and pictures of moments— It’s absolutely beautiful.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

There’s a dark ring to his tone, it pulls from the back of his throat is a rasp, a growl almost.

You nod your head, all dumb and shy, feels like you’re drunk just from the view.

“Fuck, baby. You can’t do that.”

You whimper, small and needy, watch as his cock twitches beneath his pants.

Eddie does growl this time. It’s predatory and deep, has you white knuckling the edges of the counter when he comes closer. Your whole body is limp on impulse, reacting to the man in front of you. You knew how you must look, all drawn out and needy, not exactly how you expected to play this out but the tables quickly turned when Eddie shown a slight hint of dominance.

“What did I say?”

Eddie’s hand comes to cradle the side of your throat, gentle, holds you there while he nuzzles into the latter side, breathes in the scent. He’s slotted perfectly between your thighs, a puzzle piece meant to be, and his painfully hard bulge presses into where you are most vulnerable.

“You’ll have to remind me. I forgot.”

It’s absolutely dripping in tease, has your confidence spiked and you wanted to test the waters, see how just how far you could sink before you drown.

“Don’t fucking play with me, baby girl.”

“Ah, Eddie!”

Teeth hook into your throat, skin pinches when he releases, slides his hand to cover the front of your throat.

“Mm. A little fight in you, huh?”

The pressure is evident, it’s spreads across your throat where fingers pinch the sides, tips your head back to bring your vision to his and it feels so fucking good. Your body tingles all over, feels like there’s a flood baring through your bloodstream, making everything heightened— sensitive.

Even if you wanted to fight back, you couldn’t. The palm encasing your throat kept its firm hold and the desperate whine that leaves your lips was anything but expected when you felt Eddie’s latter hand smooth up your thigh. It’s a trail that burns, leaves behind a tingling sensation that scorns your skin. Eddie’s fingertips graze the slit of your lips, teases the sensitive flesh and when the pad of his thumb rolls over your clit, so do your eyes, falling helplessly into your head as the wave of euphoria blankets your senses.

“Na uh, baby, look at me.”

Eddie’s fingers dip into your entrance, your slick making it to easy while his thumb stays steady circling your clit. The intrusion has the walls of your pussy fluttering, they clench around the thickness of his fingers, drawing them in to the knuckles.

Your head falls forward, caught by his grip as hooded eyes strain to focus on the man in front of you.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

His eyes swallow you whole, pull you in head first and you had no plans on stopping it. Eddie’s fingers find a pace, pumping in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit. Your entire body trembles from the high, your senses so far on alert that it has you internally screaming. Your stomach washes in waves, the draw of pleasure been brought to the surface, you can feel the bubble, the drop.

“Oh god, Eddie.”

The curl of his fingers has you tipping over the edge, your pussy fights with every draw of his fingers, the heated pressure against your throat sends you further. It’s all a collision of white heat and pleasure, has you babbling and moaning complete chaos.

“Oh fuck, Eddie. I’m going to—“

“Eyes on me, baby. I want to watch you.”

The second your vision locks with his, you’re brought down in crashing waves. Your pussy contracts, leaves your thighs shaking. It’s intense and hard, the release rushes through your system in a whirlwind, boils your blood and leaves your head in a blissed out fog.

Eddie removes his hand from around your throat then his fingers, slowly. Let’s the ride of your orgasm slow before placing the two finger’s between plush lips. His tongue darts out, swirls and sucks the evidence of your cum from his fingers. It’s a fucking sight to see, dark eyes follow your motion before he releases with a soft pop.

You absolutely should be completely fucked out, your body heavy is evidence of it but the need still claws in the pit of your stomach, the hunger that bleeds and screams for more.

You reach out and pull Eddie back in, your ass slipping further to the edge from the slick created when your mouths meet in a tangled mess of lips and breath. You wanted to feel him, taste him. You wanted to explore and trace and Jesus Christ, you just couldn’t get enough. Your hands weave in a knot in his hair, groans vibrate through his chest at the action as you abandon one hand to reach between you both. Finding the hardness that hid beneath his pants, eager hands work through to slip between the barrier of material and skin.

“Ah, Jesus. Oh fuck.”

Eddie moans against your lips and you smile in response. Your hand sinks and wraps around his length, your palm working in slow strokes, doing what you could with how much you had to work with. Eddie was big. Thick and lengthy. You’d be lucky if your fingers could touch around the girth and as Eddie fucks up into your hand, you realise just how much bigger he was.

“Jesus Eddie.”

You hadn’t really need to say it, Eddie knew.

You break from the kiss, slip your other hand out from his hair and tug the left side of his pants down. Eddie chuckles, helps the process by pushing the remainder down, his cock still grasped in your hold and fuck where you right.

Eddie wraps a hand around yours, uses the other to hook a finger under your chin and dips his head into your line of vision.

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?”

There’s humour in his tone. Your eyes are blown out when you nod, smile. Spreading your legs wider with invitation.

Eddie places both hands to cup your face, presses forward and you feel the gentle nudge of his cock spread your pussy. It slips perfectly, your slick making easy way when he breaks the head in. The stretch burns, it’s subtle but there and when he inches further your throat breaks out in a pitiful cry.

“You’re doing good, baby.”

Eddie’s forehead rests against yours, his gaze holds yours in reassurance when he presses further. It’s unmistakable the width that your pussy is being stretched, its a mix of pain and euphoria, leaving behind the most delicious throb.

“That’s it, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

“Oh, Eddie. Fuck.”

Eddie’s thumbs run the pad of your cheeks when he bottoms out, you whimper against the movement, the pain easing from discomfort to pleasure and it courses through your system like a new high all over again.

Eddie draws out and thrusts back in, his rhythm is steady, slow. Each drag pulls new waves, each one has you moaning for more. The pleasure undeniable, it brings forwards a hunger that seemed to be starved, a pulsating heat that hooks your arms around his neck and has Eddie’s palms resting on your thighs, spreading you further. It’s absolutely filthy the image in front of you. You watch Eddie’s cock disappear in the hollow of your pussy between your legs, fingerprints stain your thighs as Eddie picks up the pace, his hips crashing against yours in a wet collision.

“Jesus H Christ, you’re so tight.”

Eddie’s tattoos flex along with his thrusts, the pictures and words dance across his skin, the black ink shining with sweat.

“Fuck, oh my god.”

“Ah, right there, oh fuck.”

Eddie’s railing you with relentless force, it’s a sticky wet fucking mess, echos of skin and moans bounce around you and his cock feels so fucking good. Your chest hammers against your rib cage, air seems to be long gone with every thrust. His curls stick to the creases of his forehead, his eyes watching you intently, almost possessive.

Your hands weave into the back of his hair and settle just at the nape, knuckles knot around the curls and you pull, Eddie’s head jars back momentarily and when he comes back to eye level there’s a flare of desire that bares straight to your centre, ignites a wildfire.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Eddie grits out between teeth, the rumble in his tone matches the harsh imprints his hands leave upon your thighs, blunt nails scarring the skin.

“Show me, god, please.”

It’s down right fucking pornographic the moan Eddie emits, he wraps his arms around your waist and without falter, without removing himself he lifts you from the counter and lays you out on the floor beneath.

Before you even tried to protest, Eddie has your legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees press to your chest as he fucks into you. It’s deeper, the thrust of his cock hits the soft of your pussy and has you throwing your head back, even the contact with the harsh floor doesn’t register— Just Eddie’s cock sending you into complete fucking meltdown.

“Like this. M’ want you spread wide fucking open.”

He’s not shy, he pounds away with force and perfect precision, dips his head into the curve of your neck and his moans are like the perfect melody, ringing loud and hard.

“Oh fuck, Eddie. Jesus.”

“Let go, baby. Let me fucking feel you.”

Your stomach churns, the warmth bubbling with one last thrust into your soft spot and it has you clenched tight around his cock. Your orgasm baring down like a earthquake, leaving your thighs trembling and your body fucked out.

“Fuck, good girl, you feel so fucking good.”

Your pussy is soaking, Eddie fucks your orgasm right to the very edge, coats his along too. His thrusts wavier, you feel his cock swell and you reach out, grip his waist and urge him deeper.

“Shit, fuck, I’m going to cum baby.”

His eyes search yours in a hasty need, searching, asking.

“I’m covered, fill me up Eddie, please.”

It’s bares more a whine than a moan, the desperation drawn on every word.

“Holy fuck.”

You feel the hot substance coat the inside of your pussy, Eddie’s release seeping into the most intimate parts and it’s has you on cloud fucking nine.

Eddie sinks above you, his weight rests lightly above yours, the air is thick and humid, filled with heavy pants for air and raspy ends of lingering moans. Eddie rolls over, loops an arm and takes you with him, curled up beside him, tangled in arms and legs and it’s absolute bliss.

Eddie chuckles softly, nudges into the crook of your neck.

“Well, fuck.”

[enemywasp]

Alright so someone on tiktok sent me a link to a compiled list of arguments against proshippers and so I wanted to put a sort of brief response of my own thoughts of each point.

Long post warning!

"Proshippers are non-offending minor attracted people in a fresh paint of coat"

What a start, am I right? Okay so first off this is a huge generalisation, not every proshipper engages with or is even comfortable with anything that sexualises fictional children, or ships them with adults. And of those that do ship adult/minor ships, it doesn't always mean they're attracted to the character themselves or gains any sexual pleasure from that.

They then went on to say that although they might be non-offending, they still fantasise about and romanticise children- in the case of proshippers by creating art and stories. And I am not personally educated enough on how people's minds works to go in depth here, but I do know a lot of pedophilic thoughts can be intrusive and unwanted. And I would much rather people engage in this and deal with their thoughts through fiction where no actual children are harmed, than actually go touch a real child or engage is any form of CSEM.

“People can draw and ship whatever they want!”

Here they went on to say that surely to ship and create content you must justify these things in some capacity regardless of them being fictional. And immediately I'd argue, the justification it that they're fictional. And that sometimes you want to read about things you'd never approve of in real life, it's a natural curiosity. And again, regardless of what the dark content is I would take someone engaging in fiction over harming a real person any day.

They compared this to alt-right groups and dark humour justifying racism and transphobia, etc. And whilst I think something we should always be aware of in fiction is stereotypes and how we may be representing people. Youtube videos like this are usually a type of propaganda that AIM to change people's mindsets and turn them against groups. Whereas fiction tells a story, some may have meanings and connections to real life, be a political piece, etc. Not everything is that serious and has a clear distinction from reality.

Think for example, reading/watching about murder and gore. More on that in a second.

"Fiction doesn't affect reality!"

I'm going to be honest I rolled my eyes at this as their main example was slenderman. If you don't know about that, those girls were schizophrenic. Anything could of set off and caused delusions, it just so happened to be fiction. Those girls needed help- not to just read purer content. They also basically brought up propaganda again, which is again deliberate and designed to warp peoples perceptions. Its based of lying and spreading misinformation and passing it as facts. The only thing I strongly believe can be directly harmful is stereotypes if not handled with care. But I think that's something for anyone who writes and consumes content should be aware of regardless of their stances.

Again here they implied that all proshippers are peodophiles. And that they normalise abuse of children. I'd also like to point out that most proshippers I've interacted with online have age boundaries to avoid interacting with minors depending on how graphic or sexual their content is.

"What do you think all stories about murder should stop existing?"

Here they basically argued that killing in media isn't the same as its not romanticised or condoned. YA Novels disagree- mafia stories being the most immediate example to spring to mind. Furthermore, morally grey villains. One of my favourite films is Mr Right. It's about a hitman killing people. Anna kendrick falls in love with him and its framed as a romantic comedy. Funny how its only fanfiction that's criticised like this? I actually have more thoughts on this if anyones interested.

Again they bring up kids not knowing adults pursuing children is wrong, and I'm questioning why children this young are unsupervised on the Internet. How young were you when you were allowed to watch anything with graphic blood or violence? This content isn't made for kids! Especially not anyone so young they can't seperate fiction from reality as most sites have a specific age you have to be to join. And I'm sorry to say it, but on websites and social media where adults can interact with kids, anything can be used to groom kids. (The real thing you should be mad about here is how there's no websites aimed just for children and safe spaces on the Internet anymore cause it can't be monetised as easily)

"Artists are allowed to draw and write about dark people"

They basically said, yes but it's not the same as promoting. Writing something under a romantic light and not saying "Don't do at home!" Isn't promoting. No ones encouraging these things in real life. Or rather, if they are its not because they're a proshipper but rather who they are as a person and their intentions.

The trans example they used is very extreme and honestly something I agree with a little more, fiction can definitely be used as an excuse to say and act out hateful and discriminatory things. Whilst I do think it's something we should discuss and unpack more, I'm not certain of my view on how I would fix this without risking silencing people talking about their experiences.

"Its not my responsibility to look after other people, just block me and the tags"

Here they threw all kinds of accusations. And says that we're making traumatised people jump through hoops to avoid getting retraumatised. I hate this argument, you know people have actual triggers they may not be able to avoid in real life? The world can't bend around you. And I am very sorry if any content online is traumatising to you, but someone could also be traumatised by a certain breed of dog and not want to see it. Should no one post dogs online ever again? A bald man reminds you of an abusive ex? Bald men get off the Internet! You see how this thing can just keep escalating? The tags and warnings are important because they're the best you can get. You can't control the world to protect everyone from everything ever. No ones forcing you to interact, and if you're on any algorithm based content that will encourage that content on your for your page more.

The only thing I think we should take from this is the reminder that warnings and tags are always important.

"You only care about censoring creativity"

Here they defend themselves that oh wouldn't you want freaks out the community! Which again immediately makes me lose respect for you, if you're just going to brand us all as freaks as an argument and generalize us.

No comment on that first line when you can easily argue antishipper do the same.

"Proshippers are not remotely innocent of targeted harrasement" Neither are antis. There's people who take things too far both sides and I'm not going to defend either for that.

"Real kids get assaulted and all you care about is censoring people online!"

Here they shout "oh I can care about both!" But what I don't think they realise is censorship can make it difficult for kids and to learn about how to speak up and to look for signs, or to speak up about their experiences. How do you plan on removing the topic from the Internet whilst also letting victims speak up? And people may want to write fiction based off their experiences. Who are you to go through it and proclaim what is too far, what romanticises it too much? More on this later.

"Antis are reducing my trauma"

They compared this to saying "date rape victims are reducing my trauma because they weren't taken advantage of in the same way as me" which is a disgusting parallel?? Date rape is still rape. Someone writing about something isn't the same as it happening. Although it can be used as harrasment, grooming, etc if directly addressed to you or being constantly sent to you, written about you. But the content existing in general? No.

"I'm coping"

Compared it to self harm, and such. Poetry and diaries are also used to write about your experiences and unpack trauma. Some of which may write it in an unrealistically positive light cause that's how they want to unpack it or explain those thoughts. And yes these things get posted online.

I can't imagine a single therapist or professional psychiatrist of any kind disapproving of creative writing because, again, it's much better than any alternatives of doing real harm to yourself or people around you. Although I do agree that if something is traumatising for you to read about and just upsets you further, be aware of your own boundaries but not everyone is the same so how are you going to police people's own thoughts and emotions.

Also I can't remember who or where as it was years ago now, but I have heard of people who actually realised they were being groomed or abused and just how bad it was through reading about it in a fanfic and seeing it in an outside perspective.

They also say to do it in private, but doesn't everyone on the Internet now have an understanding of finding a community and looking out for eachother and sharing experiences?

"There's more nuance here than just calling proshippers peodophiles"

Here they say no matter what it still comes down to whether it's ever okay to sexualise minors in certain contexts. And again, not every proshipper does this or is even comfortable with engaging in this kind of content. And further, no one is sexualising real minors in this context.

"I'm a proshipper and a minor tho!"

I'd agree minors should be wary of the spaces they're in but proship spaces aren't always necessarily sexual, graphic or 18+. Saying they're being groomed feels like you're watering down that term. I was a proshipper at age 13, I didn't interact with anyone online about it though, I didn't even know that was the term. I just came to the conclusion that it's just fiction all on my own. Minors aren't idiots.

At then end they talk about their own experience being groomed and I'm obviously not going to nitpick or criticise their experiences. I will point out that one person being bad and taking advantage of you and using content to do so doesn't mean everyone is like that. I am sorry to anyone who has been taken advantage of by someone who claims they're a proshipper though. There are people who have turned out to be horrible on both sides.

I am ill and it's late but I want to get this up sooner rather than later so please ask for clarification on anything. I'm always up for a discussion on this topic as I do believe some of these points do have merits at times and that this whole topic is not black and white

[wanderingtycho]

For the longest time in Disco Elysium, I couldn’t figure out why Empathy was the stat chosen to represent Moralism, the other political stats made more sense to me.

Rhetoric is Communism, constantly arguing for you and dismantling the arguments of others, choosing to feel smart and miserable over acknowledging your hopelessness under capital.

Endurance is Fascism, purely physical, purely reactionary. No intellectual angle and not the emotions of your mind, but of your gut. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling of your insides telling you that everything sucks in your life because of *them*.

Libertarianism is Savoir Faire, the slimy show off stat, the ooze and groove and grinding of a real hustler. The kind of mentality that leads a terminally poor cop to walk around the most destitute ghetto in the city bragging about his net worth and his visionary money manifesting, to which normal people rightfully treat you as if you’re insane.

All well and good, all tracks, but then there’s Moralism, the political center, the Kingdom of Conscience. The stat for this would seem plainly obvious, Volition, right? The self control stat, the stat of temperance and rationality and measured action. The boring stat. Hell, Volition is the one who chimes in approvingly when you try on the Moralist pants. It seems like a perfect fit, but no, the stat for Moralism is Empathy.

Empathy, the stat that lets you, even forces you to feel for others. To reach them at their level, cut through to the source of all their feelings, the Superego. What does any of that have to do with Moralism? With slow, incremental progress and La Responsabilité?

At first, I thought it might have been an oversight, one Psyche skill swapped with another. Then I thought maybe it was meant as a subtly pro-moralist statement, that extreme political ideologies make it harder to connect with others, and being more “sensible” politically makes you more relatable. But that doesn’t really gel with the games stance on centrism, which is decidedly not positive, with the Moralist International depicted as a cold and dehumanizing force of oppression.

It didn’t make sense until I completed the Moralist political vision quest, which is by far my favorite out of all four. With Harry on top of the statue of Frissel III, begging and pleading with Coalition Warship Archer, it’s an Empathy check you have to pass to make the faceless drone on the other side of the radio see you. Hear you, acknowledge you as a person who is suffering, acknowledge the suffering of Martinase and Revachol under the unfeeling negligence of the Moralintern.

That’s when it hit me, Empathy is the Moralist stat because it taps into a universal human experience. Most people don’t have consistent political beliefs, even those ascribing themselves to more radical points on the spectrum. Most people have a complicated relationship with faith. But that moment of Harry on the statue, shouting desperately at a dreary sky for someone to please do something about this, that moment is empathetic to us all.

Regardless of political leanings, whether secular or spiritual, that gnawing existential dread is consistent. The world keeps getting worse and worse, and nobody with any power seems to care, every day we’re met with the silence of God and the silence of Capital. That’s why Empathy was chosen to embody Moralism, to recognize that deep down we’ve all felt that anxious longing. To look up at the sky and hope that something, someone. Anything, anyone, would please just listen and hear. Please just do something about this.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP4: Kantbison as "Partners in Crime"

At this point in the story, Kant and Bison are effectively standing on opposite sides. Their whole side quest to punish Babe's bullies and teacher felt like foreshadowing - an example of how well these two can work together when they are on the same team. More importantly, how much their values align when in pursuit of the same objective.

A strict moral compass underlies Bison and Fadel's work. They only target 'the bad guys' - those who deserve what's coming to them. So it's deeply ingrained in Bison's psyche to fight for injustice. When he notices Babe's bruises, his brain immediately deduces foul play and is compelled to help Kant find the perpetrator, regardless of his own growing suspicions around Kant's integrity.

Kant doesn't mean to act with ill intent but is willing to do unethical things where necessary in order to achieve a goal. Spiking Bison's drink was a particularly dicey move. We know this is all in aid of protecting his brother but Bison doesn't. So when Kant declares, "I only cared about my brother at first, but my boyfriend's right. If I let you go, you're only going to do it to other children" it demonstrates that firstly, Kant supports the stance of doing the just thing, and secondly that he agrees with following Bison's example because they align in their values.

To Bison, seeing first-hand that they respect the same moral code, one that Kant is willing to put into action, earns his respect. "I might not trust you 100% but i have to admit... What you did today totally rocks." A man who is willing to expose a paedophile and save other potential victims, can't be all that bad can he? A man who has a conscience, who has deemed his own history of stealing cars as something he's not proud of, is not one of the 'bad guys' surely?

Now, why is this important? Well, once they have exposed their respective positions, acknowledging that they can actually work alongside each other will enable them to overcome this fact. They've established that precedence here. We're getting a glimpse into what could come after the fallout.

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[vilecemetery]

shadow and bone fans are captivated by the church scene in season 1 of the show, fixated by the weight of inej’s choice—sacrificing her faith and committing an act of violence in a place meant for solace and sanctity, all in a desperate bid to save kaz’s life. it resonates deeply with them, who appear to be enthralled by the agonizing dilemma she faces, torn between her unwavering principles and the fierce loyalty that drives her to such drastic measures, and they are even more enthralled by her choice to save her true love. however, few fans seem to talk about how inej, a victim of human trafficking who was kidnapped from her home by slavers, seemed somewhat at ease with kidnapping a girl from her home for money. no one talks about inej having no moral conflict about selling a girl to a merchant who wanted use of her skills. no one points out the hypocrisy of inej wanting to hunt down slavers after practically doing the same thing as them.

unrelatively, (not) inej is suli and her community (who leigh bardugo undeniably based on romani people and culture) are travellers, who do not stay in one place for a long time but follow old routes. their nomadism is both a reflection of their current cultural identity and a response to external forces that have marginalized them, such as persecution and hostility.

ravka may have grand, impressive churches, but the suli don’t have a fixed location of worship. their faith is obtained in saint stories, possibly some kind of rituals or traditions, and their moral values. while inej might respect churches as a symbolism of religious belief, her understanding of faith is likely derived from the same cultural notions. her relationship with her saints is personal and intimate; she believes they can hear her prayers regardless of her physical surroundings. she has had to kill people to survive in the barrel and killing someone in a church would not have more meaning to her then killing someone in the street. dunyasha falls off the church of barter when she dies but this does not seem especially significant to inej.

in the books, inej is religious but at the same time clever and logical. she isn’t blindly devoted to her faith, she understands that she had to do terrible things to survive in the barrel and is competent at her job. however something she does not ever waver on is human exploitation. she cares profoundly about people and is committed to bringing justice, and she seeks to protect those who suffer similar exploitations as she did.

in the show, she is blindly religious and at times, a mindless devotee. she is far more morally upright then a 16 year old girl in that situation would be able to be. nevertheless, her outlook on kidnapping and exploiting others seems to be quite flexible.

this phenomenon extends beyond inej’s character alone; it reflects a broader trend within the shadow and bone adaptation where critical aspects of various characters are altered or misplaced, leading to a dilution of their original significance. character traits are either largely exaggerated or diminished, leading to a compete loss of meaning in storytelling. by focusing primarily on inej’s faith while neglecting her strong stance against human trafficking—an issue that resonates deeply with her personal history—the adaptation presents a one-dimensional portrayal that fails to capture the essence of who she is meant to be. show fans are enamored with this new interpretation of inej, without fully recognizing the significant alterations made to her core values and beliefs, thereby overlooking critical themes present in bardugo’s original work.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/766871732008206336/just-saw-tags-on-a-post-that-said-yeah-i-hate?source=share

I like how "that's literally what proshipping is" changes every time someone says they don't undertsand or prefer not to use the word.

I've seen it defined as being in favour of other people shipping stuff (regardless of if you think they should be allowed to post that online or not)

as being against fandom harassment (regardless of views on censorship or morality)

as taking a stance against antis (no matter what that stance actually is)

as being against censorship more broadly (and having nothing to do with beliefs about morality or online harassment)

And of course there are the doofuses, from both sides, who insist that it has something to do with what you ship or don't ship or what you are comfortable seeing on your Tumblr dash.

In reality is a more specific convergence of all of the above ideologies/beliefs/goal (except the doofus one) within a specific social scene. It's at once a school of thought, a subculture, and a social (and sometimes political) movement.

But you guys are not doing yourselves any favors when you reduce it to one tiny part like "thinks online bullying is bad" or "thinks criminalizing fiction is dangerous" and then go crying in people's inboxes about how it's bad that you have ideological allies outside of your subculture.

--

Your first mistake is thinking that most people using that word see it as a subculture.

[theniftycat]

How to stay sane when history keeps happening

I don't think it's stopping any time soon, guys. It's okay if you're confused, upset, angry, apathetic etc. You are allowed to feel anything. Your internal life is fully yours.

Don't feel like you're obliged to explain yourself to anyone. You are just one person. Your social life isn't political. Don't speak if you don't want to. Don't speak if you feel it could hurt you. Don't speak if you're not sure. Don't speak if speaking makes you feel uneasy.

Remember that responsibility is proportionate to power. If you hold no tangible political power, you share no guilt, no responsibility. It applies to public figures too. Unless you did the deed, you aren't responsible for it.

The only person you can demand to take a moral stance is yourself. Everybody else is responsible for it only before themselves.

Remember that you can't know the whole truth, the fog of war is a real thing. Confusion is normal to feel, remember that everybody else is confused too.

Keeping that in mind, find some source you can address yourself to. No need to trust anyone completely, just find someone whose coverage is easy for you to digest.

Try not to lose the social connections that are important to you, especially, in real life. Social connections are the biggest source of happiness and security. If you disagree with someone, remember that each one of you could be wrong and probably is at least partially wrong. Confusion is normal. Try avoiding the topic if the person is really important to you. Don't ruin relationships with those dearest to you, they will help you irl regardless of politics.

Don't feel obliged to keep up with the news. If the news upset you, you not knowing them won't make the world a worse place.

Don't hold yourself responsible for other people's opinions. Everybody answers for themselves. Being wrong is something people do.

Remember what is normal. Keep normalcy in mind. Remember what healthy conversations are like, remember what peace is like. Remember what freedom is like. One day, everything will need to be rebuilt. And you'll be there to do it.

Your job is to keep yourself who you are in normal times. You needn't be destroyed or made miserable. Keep yourself healthy if you can. Remember that there are good things that are worth striving for.

Most of this advice came from Ekaterina Schulmann and it kept me sane for the last year and a half.

[iilmunchkiin]

This is in response to the anon's ask about Clover and Martlet's relationship as well as the two sides of the same coin. Explaining this in few words is going to be quite the task as there's so much to talk about when it comes to the Clover and Martlet's relationship, so I'll keep as to the point as possible.

First and foremost from the moment they meet Martlet becomes Clover's morality chain, and depending on their actions prior or after this meeting, will show other aspects of how they see each other. No other monster has this kind of affect on Clover. Likewise Clover's actions will determine how she sees humans, and what stance she should take in regards to Clover.

Clover's actions always spur Martlet into action regardless of the route. It's worth mentioning Martlet is established as being lazy, which she admits herself, but Clover's presence causes her to break out of this completely. Genocide shows her being a lot more proactive when it comes to dealing with Clover, and the other routes shows her making the extra effort to keep Clover safe, simply because this is what she feels is right. Likewise Martlet is shown to be the only monster to have some kind of influence on Clover, considering Clover will always choose her over Flowey.

In Neutral, Martlet is the sole monster that Clover cannot bring themselves to kill/refuses to kill, and all of it is completely unprompted. Likewise Martlet will also refuse to kill Clover despite their misdeeds however big or small. Even if you genuinely try to fight Martlet on Neutral, it will always end with Clover sparing her unprompted. Even on an aborted genocide route, where Clover can quite literally kill every monster they encounter including the likes of Ceroba and Starlo. They cannot bring themselves to kill Martlet, and Martlet despite seeing how dangerous Clover is, still refuses to kill them, which leads to Martlet offering to look after Clover, and Clover always accepting her offer. Plus when Martlet is killed by Flowey, Clover is so enraged they retaliate by trying to kill Flowey, and like with Clover sparing Martlet, it's completely unprompted, the player has no influence in Clover's decision to do this. To top all of this of, do Neutral enough times, and Flowey reveals to you, that Martlet convincing Clover to stay with her is a foregone conclusion without intervention. Essentially no what Clover does in Neutral, no matter who they kill, no matter what lies or manipulative tactics Flowey uses to try and control Clover, it will always end with Martlet offering to look after Clover, and Clover always choosing to stay with Martlet.

The Genocide route, is the only route were Clover and Martlet are both willing to kill the other. Not only that, during this route, Martlet is shown to be the only monster that Clover respects, and is also the only monster they spare unprompted, as well as listen to when they speak. Furthermore she's also the only monster that Clover goes out of their way to find a justifiable reason to kill, they do this for no other monster but her, which even Martlet makes a remark on. Both of them are fighting for literally the same thing, Justice for their kind, for the Injustice that was done to them. Something also very interesting about this fight that was pointed out elsewhere, both Clover and Martlet use yellow themed attacks. Martlet is also the only monster that Clover reveals their name to in Genocide.

Martlet stays by Clover's side accompanying them on three separate occasions on Pacifist with just the two of them. Four if you include the flawed Pacifist ending. The most out of any monster that Clover encounters. During these moments they get to see sides of Clover that the other characters don't really see. Likewise Clover gets to sides to her character that's different from what she usually shows others.

No matter how far gone Clover is, Martlet can always sense the good in them, when other monsters scorn them. Likewise regardless of how Clover sees monsters, as long as they don't go full vengeance they will always ultimately end up seeing Martlet in a positive light, and be drawn to her.

Martlet only tells Clover about the Syringe and the fact the she was planning to kill them using it when she senses the dark aura within them. It's also heavily implied until she came clean to them, Clover was completely oblivious to this fact, which would also imply they trusted her enough to where they didn't suspect her to be a danger to their life. It's also worth mentioning that Martlet is aware of what kind of individual Clover is even if she's not their to witness their actions, and Clover will always trust her to some capacity regardless of how their first encounter goes.

There's other stuff, but these points are some of the major ones.

[nothorses]

May I ask why you think Biden stepping down and Kamala being the candidate to be 'good news'? I'm still voting for whoever the Democratic candidate is ofc, but I worry this move threw away the average swingvoter who may have been swayed towards voting blue. I don't see how anyone who may have been okay voting for Biden by virtue of him being an old white dude is gonna be as nice towards a brown woman. I mean, people were too sexist for Hillary, the most milquetoast white woman imaginable. I'd really like to hear your perspective.

Biden has been polling like shit for months, and basically fucking everyone has been calling for him to step out of the race for a while now. It's been the opinion of political experts that he doesn't have much of a shot in this election for a variety of reasons. The vast majority of his own base is incredibly dissatisfied with his stance on Palestine (an understatement), and numbers have been reflecting that he was going to be running against some truly miserable odds because of that.

It is genuinely the best option for him to step out of the race. Literally just about anyone else has a much better shot at winning than Biden did. Kamala included! There was a press conference a while back where someone actually asked him if he'd step down if Kamala polled better, and he said he wouldn't. Which is extremely worrying, because it demonstrates that he may have been prioritizing his own personal ego over the importance of keeping Republicans out of office this election.

I don't like Biden, and I really didn't like his odds in this race. Nobody else did, either. The fact that Obama came out and said Biden needs to step down is indication enough that this happened because the situation is really that dire; you have to remember that Democrats are all about Doing Things By The Book, especially in the last 8-ish years when it's been useful for them to be Rule Followers in contrast to the tantrum-throwing chaos machines that Republicans have been. If there was even a sliver of hope for Biden to stay in the race after being chosen in the sad sham that the primaries were this election cycle, they would have kept pushing just to stay within the bounds of convention.

I was ready to push for Biden regardless, because keeping Republicans out of office is priority #1. But I've been saying for a while now that he needs to drop out (just... not on Tumblr, where the dominant conversation is "does voting for a flawed political pawn make you personally responsible for everything they ever do, or should we abstain and let the fascists hijack our government and kickstart several new genocides for the sake of personal moral purity" and I don't think that kind of nuance would be well-received).

I use my grandparents as a litmus test in a lot of this stuff, because they are very much the Typical Liberal Democrats, and their opinions on these things tend to fall in line with the majority of voting Democrats. They absolutely loved Biden in 2020, long before he was chosen as the candidate. They don't anymore. Seeing them lose any and all enthusiasm for voting for this corpse of a man was evidence enough to me that we needed someone else. Ideally someone people can get excited about, because I think folks have mostly lost the perspective we had in 2020 when Trump's nightmarish presidency was fresh in everyone's minds, and served as motivation enough to get to the fucking polls- regardless of who the Dem pick actually was.

From what I understand, Kamala is actually polling better than anyone else right now. I have my fears about voters' racism and misogyny too, but if she's doing well in the polls, I wonder if maybe there's some other factors counteracting that. She's also got name recognition, and the general impression of Being Qualified (because she's been VP already, like Biden was), and Being Likeable (because she comes with the general positive associations of the largely successful Biden presidency, without any baggage of perceived responsibility that Biden himself carries- like Biden did with Obama). She's been flying under the radar while still reaping the benefits of positive associations, and people know who she is. That feels like a good combination, but I don't know enough, and I haven't read enough into it to make any decently educated guesses.

That said, I don't really know as much about who the other potential candidates might be, either. I've heard Pete Buttigieg's name tossed around, but nobody liked his ass back in 2020 and idk if that's actually changed at all. I just know that every politically-knowledgeable/politically-active leftist whose opinion I've heard on the topic has been citing Biden dropping out as the literal only hope for a non-Republican to win this election, and I'm really fucking excited to see that come to fruition. I just hope the Dems pick someone who really does have a good shot.

As a sidenote, I also really hope this marks a shift in how they make decisions, too. It's become increasingly obvious how out-of-touch Democrats are with their voters, and Biden 2024 was just the latest and greatest indicator of exactly how bad that's gotten. The fact that the party has been able to make such an unconventional decision in response to what their voters actually want gives me a little bit of hope that we might be able to influence more change with them going forward than we have been.

[just-a-bean-babes]

Not to engage in controversy, but let me defend my anti Edwin/Cat King stance for a moment.

Let me cut y’all off and say that I think the Cat King’s deal is an excellent plot point. It falls perfectly into classic fairy tale patterns; mess with a powerful being’s domain and receive a cunty little riddle on how to get out of your new life destabilizing curse. It’s wonderful, it’s fascinating, it has a distinctly Neil Gaiman spin despite him not writing the show, I love it.

However, that does not make it a cool moral premise to begin any sort of relationship with. There is an explicitly demonstrated power imbalance; the Cat King is shown to have powers way beyond Edwin, and is using his power to put him in danger. His offer to remove the curse if Edwin fucks him, then, is not an offer that could be truly consented to.

Even though we see that the Cat King cares for Edwin in many ways. Even though we know that Edwin is physically attracted to the Cat King. The offer is nonetheless made in a quid-pro-quo, tit-for-tat manner (sleep with me and you’ll get that promotion, your grades will improve, I’ll make a recommendation for you). Regardless of the presence of attraction or care on either side in any case like this, it is still exploitative because true, reliable consent cannot be given in the presence of coercive power imbalance.

Let me be clear again, I love the presence of this dynamic in the show. It adds enormous complexity to the Cat King’s character and to Edwin’s journey with his sexuality. It makes the offer all the more interesting as we learn about the Cat King’s care for Edwin’s well being. It makes it satisfying and offers an insight into Edwin when he gives the Cat King the accurate cat count in Port Townsend, even though he’s attracted to him and genuinely intrigued by his offer.

Narratively it is excellent. Morally it is still an exploitative relationship founded on power imbalance. This is something that could be worked through, if they so decided to! And I would be on board in that case (though my PayneLand heart would shatter). But it is something that would need to be worked through, and as of yet has not been.

TLDR; Cat King, it’s neat that you care about Edwin and that Edwin’s attracted to you, but the options “fuck me, or you and your friends will probably die while you try to complete an extremely difficult and tedious (though possible) task” is not a healthy starting point in a relationship.