#maybe also it had to do with men over compensating for not being the ones to give birth or carry a child for 9 months -so womb envy

[iceyrukia]

You see male narcissism really shine through with the whole naming their first-born son after themselves (JR) as if said child is an extension of themselves and their “legacy” rather then their own person.

[jackalopenecropsy]

ok i'll indulge myself....

part 1(?) of biker gang!141 and an interesting fem grunge!reader... if u want more

cw; slight mentions of blood

The streets were pretty quiet this time of night. The only sounds to be heard were barking dogs or tires occasionally skidding in the distance. And the teenagers were never out this late in the fall, as school just started or they were working their dead jobs at the gas station or high school graduates pouring the same 5 drinks at a bar.

You liked walking around- even though it was maybe 1 or 2 in the morning- mainly because you had your scary guard dog with you, (who wasn't even a bit scary, he was just a police academy dropout with a fear of cotton swabs and squirrels) but also because the air this time of year smelled the best. It did wonders for your skin and sinuses, so why not? Walking around in the daytime was a lot more of a chore anyways, teenagers skating sporradically with fruity vapes on necklaces or older men just leaving their blue collar jobs for lunch while staring at you with unreadable expressions.

The northwoods, sigh. You'd told yourself that you'd leave it all the time when you were a kid. Over the years, a mix of the economy making that absolutely impossible and an aquirement of taste for small-town life made it a lot easier to accept the impossibility of it. Bartending and eventually being remote in editorial work kept you afloat in the small house you'd been able to buy flat out in the south side of town.

That part of town was just cemeteries and neighborhoods, neighborhoods and railroads, and gas stations and bars. As most south sides were. Another luxury of living where you lived was the copious amounts of streets and drag-worthy strips of old highway that laid for miles in one direction or another.

You used to work as a freelance flag girl for drag racers on some shitty craigslist copy, but quit l because the only racers that wanted you were full of white-claw drunk young assholes rooting for douchebag car modders who compensated for their dick sizes by throttling so hard that the pop of their exhausts sounded like gunfights. It was too loud and to risky and too tasteless.

But in the ends of the summer, it was taken over by the bikers. Not bicycle-bikers, but motorcyclists.

You were absolutely terrible at hiding your drooling depraved stares at every single one of them. The young women in skin-clad leather and red lipstick with matching sleek bikes, the finer-aged older men in their lean-back harleys with bandanas, the cute guys your age in their blackout helmets and their modestly-modded bikes. Oh, the variety, oh the taste. You had once thought about picking up biking yourself, but when you told your friends they all cackled at the idea. You were too absent minded at times; definitely from all the weed you smoked. Only half embarassed, you agreed.

Tonight was no different than the other nights of early Septembers before. Your dog lapped his tongue in the air catching stray dew drops falling from leaves overhead as you took your time walking accross the street. He swayed his tail so hard that you almost got knocked over a few times. The sound of a motorcyle revving in the distance made you slow your speed to a halt, listening intently, shamefully to see if you could get any bit of eye candy while out.

You recognized the sound of the engine, which soon became engines as the sounds came closer.

'Oh... a group of Kawaskis?? No... that's at least two more different motorcyles, but a few Kawaskis.. Do I hear a Harley?'

You blinked to yourself before shaking your head.

'God fucking damnit, you geek. You should NOT be able to tell what motorcyle model someone's riding from the fucking engine.'

Before you can shamefully walk back towards your house, you feel your dog tug harshly at his leash. You try to hold him back, but he yanks with one solid push of his back paws on the blacktop, and before you know it, you're hands and knees down on the hard ground as he's running full speed towards the sound of the motorcycles.

You groan in frustration as you stand up in a small bit of pain, your fishnets torn to shit as your palms and knees are scraped just enough to bleed a reasonable amount for getting launched by a 90 lb dog of muscle.

"Riley!" You shout and run at him, dodging a few trash cans along the street's edge as you do so. "Riley, goddamnit! Come back! Here boy!" Your converse were broken in enough to give you good ground as you chased him, and you almost grab his loose leash dragging behind him- until you trip over your own feet again just before you do.

You stay on the ground this time, unworried for your dog, as he's a big boy who knows how to not get hit by a car or get lost. More focused on the soul-eating embarassment of being outrun by a dog with more anxiety than a war veteran, and tripping twice in the process. You ignore the growing and stalling sound of engines beside- or in front, you can't tell being face down in the gravel- you as you're grovelling.

"Eh... excuse me miss? Are you alright?" You hear a gruff, dark voice mumble from just above you. You whip your head up to look at 5 people in bikers helmets just in front of you, their motorcyles off or stalling as they stand looking down at you on the ground.

"Oh- oh my- uh yeah- don't worry about me I'm great. I just tripped- nothing serious." You wave them off as you try and cover the growing fluster on your face. You stand and shake the dirt off your hands before swiping it off of your zip up, shaking it out of your gloves too. You look up to see none other than Riley, sitting contently behind the man in front of you, eagerly being pet by one of the bikers with a skull design painted onto his helmet and visor.

"Riley!" The biker looks up and your dog wags his tail hard enough to knock the bikers over too, and barks at you. "You are so not going to get any treats when we get home." He whines and continues barking, then twirls in a circle.

"You're dog's name is Riley?" The man in the skull helmet asks- and you suddenly become hyperaware of how all of the bikers are staring so intently at you. And those that have spoken so far have sickeningly thick English accents.

"Ah- yes, yeah. I was just on a walk and I heard you guys from the other street- but he just loves motorcylists so much, he took off on me. Usually he just waits until they pass us by. I'm so so sorry if he got in your way or anything." You scramble to try and seem somewhat normal as you switch between standing like a deer in their headlights, and holding your arms as the wind blew against your back.

"Ain't that a funny coincidence." The biker next to him stated, his accent thicker, and different. Possibly scottish.

"You watch it- It is a good name for a dog like this." The skull-helmet points an authoritative finger at the scot before patting Riley's head again. The man in front of you laughs heartily and takes his helmet off, revealing an older- FINELY aged man with hair in a short, short pulled back light brown and gray spotted ponytail. His mustache pulled down into a scruffy beard by mutton chops, giving him a real grizzly harley-rider look. You swore your jaw dropped when he took it off, and you were quick to cover your mouth when he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry about that miss- You've got a good dog protecting you. My names John Price." He walked up and took your hand from your face, squeezing it lightly. "My boys back there are harmless. You seem to have roughed yourself up a bit." He tilts his head as he leans back and looks you up and down, still holding your hand. Oh how deeply thankful you were that he was blocking the headlights from illuminating your red face.

"Yeah- I'm fine though, really! I just, can't keep up with Riley if I tried." You laugh and tremble a little as the cold air catches up to you. He raises an eyebrow- and fuck it gets to you because it makes him smirk a little bit too.

"Well, no offense but you look like you're in no condition to walk home like that!" A woman's voice comes up from behind Price's. You squint at the light when she comes up, and you see a blonde woman about his age with smile lines and blue eyes that could knock you down to your knees yet again. "My name's Kate, don't let John here scare you, he's just an old man." They banter a bit as you stare into space, begging any ethreal being to show you a sign that this is real life.

'Fuck being bisexual, god hates me.' You curse to yourself as you smile shyly at her.

"We can give you a ride home if you'd want! I wouldn't feel right letting you have to get yourself home with blood down your legs." Price motions with his free hand at your torn fishnets, rocks littering the cuts on your leg.

"Oh- I don't want to impose or anything, and I'll have Riley!" You struggle to keep yourself still as the wind continually stings.

"Lass, you're shakin' like a leaf in this wind." The scottish man shakes his head in his helmet, leaning back against the flat of his bike.

"You ain't getting home with just a dog draggin' you forward." The gruff voice of the skull-head from beside him made you look away in embarassment. They were all right, you were blocks away from home, and you didn't have your phone on you either.

"Um.. If you're sure you don't mind... but what about Riley?"

"He can ride wi' me!" The scott excitedly patted the flat he was leaning on, shuffling a few top panels to show a compartment on the back of it that had a hooking mechanism for leashes. Assumedly he had dogs too, and how greatful you were for it.

You sigh in relief that you wont have to limp home in your misery, as strong as you are, the chunk of you lost twice to the blacktop actually hurt more than you'd ever want to admit.

Before you can take a step forward, you're lifted off your feet and holding the shoulders of Kate. She laughs as you gasp and sets you on the back of skull-head's bike so you can backpack him, right next to Riley in the odd formation their bikes created.

"I promise he's not as scary as he looks- right Simon?"

"I don't bite." He chuckles deeply and you tense against his back as he does so. "You might want to hold on tho', I'm not exactly the easiest ride." You blush, hard as he says it, and the group laughs loudly as they start their bikes.

"Oi, treat her nice Si." A soft voice jeered from the last bike to Kate's right. "Or else I'll have to take her off your hands."

"Nice try Gaz."

"Boys! Quit scarin' her." Price chuckles and lights a cigar as he revs his engine. "Or else she wont wanna see us again. Now where do you need us to take you, love?"

'Ah.' Was all that crossed your mind as you locked your arms around Simon's waist, and you all shot off down the street.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and babysitting kids

ib the return of superman w svt bc i watched all the eps w jeonghao + junshua recently and it made me soft :((

masterlist

seungcheol:

better with kids than some of the others, but cautious. has the experience to take care of the child, but he's worried about coming off as too mean or harsh bc he's used to dealing with grown men with the mannerisms of children instead of actual children n he's too afraid of making the children cry if he's too strict w them. is very Parent when it comes to looking after the child, like, literally acts like their mom and makes them eat their vegetables and fusses over them when they spill something and makes sure they go to bed on time. the efficient person when it comes to looking after children

jeonghan:

he's so sweet. maybe a little too sweet bc as soon as the child is making the slightest whining noises he's dropping everything and doing aegyo or getting out all the toys or offering snacks bc god forbid a child starts crying in his care :((( good at being all gentle wheedler when he's exhausted out of his mind tho but he's just so weak that he doesn't do it often. lets them stay up half an hour past their bedtime. plays hide and seek with them a total of twelve times in a row. he's exhausted by the end of it, but the parents are smiling and the child is telling them how much they adore jeonghan and really that makes it all worth it for him

joshua:

the adorable uncle!! spends fifteen whole minutes explaining his name to the child, before giving up and telling them to call him jisoo. which leads to even more confusion bc he has two names???? what???? very excitable, but also clueless. he's an only child, what can he say? lets the kid get away with most things. when he inevitably exhausts himself two hours in by going way too hard while playing chase, he speaks in a cutesy tone and tries to convince the child to play some more sitting down activities. it always works, and honestly even tho he's terrible at puzzles it's better than going thru fitness training for five hrs straight

junhui:

eagerly participates in the child's made up games! pretends he's a superhero spy with them, pretends he's a magic prince(ess) with them, pretends they're pirates and encounter a ginormous sea monster with them. forgets to feed the child dinner because they're too busy playing, and so he lets them eat a whole hour after their bed time and because they're so late it takes ages to wash up and tuck the child into bed and eventually, the kid is only just going to sleep and it's three am and the parents are pulling up to the front of the house. but it's okay, because the child had fun and junhui had fun too

hoshi:

loves it the most when the children pretend they're animals. or if they have animal toys. managed to get into a fight with one of the kids once bc they wanted to be a tiger and soonyoung insisted that only he could be a tiger. almost made the child cry before eventually agreeing that they could both be tigers. gets hungry really quickly, so he ends up eating half of the child's dinner, then gives them loads of junk food to compensate for it. bad idea though, because now he has a child that's bouncing off the walls and it takes him hours to convince them to Not try and be spiderman and climb the walls and to Please get into bed because your parents are going to be home any minute and they are going to Obliterate me if you're still up

wonwoo:

he's chill. acts like a ghost that's simply observing the child's movements. only speaks when they start doing something they shouldn't or when it's time for dinner or when they should go up and get ready for bed. sometimes plays with the child if they ask him really nicely, but most of the time he's zoned out and staring at the wall, letting the child do whatever they want (so long as it's within the rules that he's been given)

jihoon:

awkward with children. doesn't know what to do. introduces himself and then holds out his hand for the child to shake. sits on the couch like he's ready to bolt any second. ends up putting the tv on for the child so that the silence in the room isn't too deafening. definitely warms up more as the night goes on, and ends up engaging in conversation with the child about how their life is at school. he forgets the names of all the children that the kid mentions though so he has no idea who has drama with who and how they're all connected but he nods and frowns and gasps in what he hopes are all the right places

minghao:

he loves children. so eager to play with them, encourages them to introduce all their toys to him and their histories and their relationships. shows them his cool hand tricks, has them gaping at him in awe for several minutes after. he's very shy, surprisingly, so desperately wanting to be all hyper and loud with the child but worried it will come off as too excitable. tries to teach the child better habits, too, talking to them about handling emotions and how emotional manipulation w tears will Not work on him, nice try. makes sure they eat their greens, and helps them brush their teeth as they get ready for bed. reads them a book and does one last finger trick before patting them on the head goodnight <;3

mingyu:

dramatic. big baby. literally acts like a child too. by the end of the evening, he's made a new friend and has pinky promised thrice that he'll come over some time for a proper play date with them. lets the child do whatever they want, with him and just in general. doesn't force the child to eat their greens bc honestly he finds those yuck too, and lets them go to bed later bc they gave him the most adorable puppy eyes and he's weak for that. reads them like five bedtime stories, acts out two of them, and would have definitely sung a song as well if he hadn't gotten a text saying the parents were coming home. rated 10/10 by all the children he's looked after

dokyeom:

the sweetest :(((( literally the most adorable with kids. treats them as if they're his younger siblings. is unintentionally doing aegyo the entire time he's with them bc he's just being influenced by so much cuteness all around him that he does it too. lets the child play with his hair, his clothes, his fingers. does the child's hair for them when they ask, and throws them into the air so many times that the child is almost sick all over him. plays hide and seek several times, two of which he was the one hiding from the child. almost forgets to put the child to bed, but then tucks them in really nicely and sings to them so sweetly. can't leave the room until the child falls asleep tho bc they insisted on grabbing onto his fingers and won't let go bc they're afraid he'll go away :((

seungkwan:

very fussy over children. dotes on them like he's a rich musty aunt, pinching their cheeks and calling them adorable every five seconds. participates in their made up games, but is hit with reality minimum three times every game bc even though he loves pretending he's a princess dressed in a pink and purple dress, it does feel weird when reality slaps you across the face. very good at Following the Schedule, and becomes almost sergeant-like while the child is brushing their teeth, standing over them and measuring the time to make sure they're doing it correctly. kisses the child on the forehead goodnight, giving their cheeks one last squeeze before tucking them in for the night

hansol:

kinda just there to have food. he's good with children tho, paying the right amount of attention to them and making all the exaggerated facial expressions that they adore. finds kids rlly adorable, but also just kinda sits there n munches on snacks half the time. asks the child how much english they know, quizzes them on the numbers from 1 to 100. all in all he's pretty good with children, feeding them on time and getting them to bed on time. ends up being so good that they fall asleep a long while before the parents come home, so he's just kinda sitting on the couch n staring at the wall for a while

chan:

literally acts like a child too (2). great with kids and matches their energy immaculately. isn't really into dressing up or chasing, but he's great at made up games and board games. once spent the entire evening playing snakes and ladders, bc it was a tense match okay and he was sure the child had to be cheating bc how were they always ahead of him?? makes sure they eat their food properly + very good at convincing them their veggies taste delicious. watches the child jump on their bed for a solid ten minutes, despite having been given express instructions to Not let the child jump on the bed, but really, how can he say no when theyre so adorable?

request guidelines

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[howtofightwrite]

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

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[zoewrites]

Your Price (Joel Miller x F!Reader) 18+

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, smut, alcohol, prostitution, dirty talk, daddy kink, pet names, rough blowjobs, cumplay, grinding, overstimulation, size kink, creampie, unprotected sex, negative attitude towards sex work, rude grumpy joel

Wordcount: 4k

Even from a distance, you could sense the ever-present air of grumpiness that exuded from Joel Miller’s being. And it made your heart beat faster. He sat alone at the bar, his narrowed eyes fixed on the glass of whiskey in his hand. He only ever raised his head to flag down the bartender for more. 

Since his arrival in the community last month, you’d heard plenty of gossip about the man. That he was a dangerous smuggler, having committed unspeakable acts of violence - and not just for survival-

And that he was cold to even those who had reached out and tried to help him settle in-

 And that he seemed to revel in his reputation as a tough, unapproachable man, only ever softening for that daughter who “wasn’t actually his daughter.”

“Ungrateful son of a bitch,” Your friend had described him in a huff after a particularly unpleasant encounter down at the stables, “He’s damn lucky that Tommy is his brother…”

But all the rumors did was fuel your curiosity and crush. There was an undeniable allure about the mysterious older man. The combination of his rugged looks and the intimidating energy surrounding him made him undeniably attractive to you, drawing you in despite the barriers he put up. On the third fill of his glass, you decided it was your chance to approach him. 

You sauntered over across the busy saloon, taking a seat beside him. Not a shred of acknowledgment upon his face as you cleared your throat, leaning in slightly. 

“Hey cowboy,” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, letting it fuel your determination.

Joel turned his head to glance at you, his eyebrow raised but his expression remained guarded. 

“Mind if I-”

“M’not interested.” His low voice shut you down and he turned back to his whiskey.

You felt a pang of frustration at his immediate dismissal. But you also felt another kind of pang, one that settled deep down within you as you finally got a close-up look at the man. His features were weathered, with grey patches in his beard and lines of experience framing his eyes. It made you wonder what all he had seen out beyond the walls of Jackson where you’d spent most of your life.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” You maintained your composure, smirking at him.

“I know who y’are, what you do,” He grumbled, still not facing you.

“Do you?” You questioned, curious as to what exactly he knew. It was true you had a bit of an… “arrangement” going on with some of the men in the community. You were a pretty girl who liked attention, and in a town where bartering was the new monetary medium, what was wrong with receiving a little… “compensation” for your time? You had no shame, it was a win-win for all involved.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his jaw clenched even more and his thumb and index finger met the bridge of his nose, sighing in annoyance.

“Long day?” Not one to give up easily, you egged him on.

“Long week. S’Why I’m here. Trying to relax.” He punctuated the end of his sentence by setting the glass down and glaring at you. 

“And how is that working out for you?” He watched as you swiveled your bar stool towards his, stretching your long legs out and crossing one over the other, giving him your full attention. The way his eyes flickered to the exposed skin on your thigh where your dress rode up didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it ignited something in you.

“Was workin’ real nicely till you interrupted.” You were indeed beginning to understand why he was so disliked.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, “Because you were lookin’ real lonely over here to me.”

Joel scoffed.

“But maybe I could help you.”

“Help?” He frowned.

“With relaxing,” You teased, leaning in a little closer, “I’m good at that kind of thing.”

You maintained his eye contact as you slowly wrapped your lips around the straw of your cocktail. You swore you could see redness bloom on the apples of his cheeks when he shook his head. The craving was building, you wanted to see this man come undone.

“Jesus Christ, woman.” He murmured under his breath, almost too quiet for you to hear over the rowdy Friday night crowd.

You shrugged innocently, turning your stool back to face the bar. You began to wonder if he really was as impossible to crack as everyone said. But he was still sitting so close that you could feel his body heat against your right side. And you could smell the leather of his worn jacket. You swallowed hard as the two of you sat in silence. Just as you were about to excuse yourself and give up for the night, he cleared his throat.

“How much?” Joel asked quietly and you felt your eyes narrow in disbelief, surely you’d misheard him.

“Hm?” 

“Your price.” Oh? Oh. Your heart slammed against the walls of your chest.

“Oh really?” You couldn’t control the teasing grin that spread across your face, you had Joel Miller right where you wanted him, “Now you’re interested?”

“Forget it,” He muttered and went to stand.

“Hey, wait,” You reached for his arm, eyes shining bright with delight, “Yours or mine?”

--

You passed by Joel’s home most days on your walks to the greenhouse or the stables. You'd always hoped to catch a glimpse of him out on the porch, sometimes talking with Ellie, sometimes strumming a guitar. Though you’d never spoken to either, it always felt like you were being let in on a little secret, getting to see just a glimpse of who Joel was underneath that cold exterior.

And now here you were, standing on that very porch, following him inside. It was tidy aside from a few pairs of boots and some comic books strewn about. Better than you were expecting for a single father and a teenager.

“Your kid out for the night?” You'd asked, letting your fingers dance across the mantle of the fireplace, eyeing a drawing she must’ve done for him. It suddenly felt so intimate, being let into his private world.

Joel shot you a look that said ‘of course she is.' That he was offended you would ever even consider the possibility of him bringing you here if she wasn’t out. He made it clear he didn’t have you over to simply ogle the ornaments on the shelves.

 After locking the door, he stood at the entrance, looking down and fidgeting with his gloved hands. You began to wonder if he was nervous. What a sight, the gruff and tough Joel Miller…. timid in your presence.

“Well…” He began and then trailed off. 

“Well…” You repeated and stood behind the couch, letting your hands rest on the backing as you leaned forward, giving him a full view of your cleavage in the low-cut dress another man had gifted you.

“Dunno how this usually goes…” He admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck and shrugging his jacket off, leaving him in that wrinkly plaid button-up, “D’you uh-”

“We can do whatever you want,” You assured him, giggling at his sudden apprehension, “Come sit.” 

He ambled over, a little confused as to why you were still standing behind him until he felt your hands move over his shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscles. You applied a gentle pressure, digging in with your palms, and he couldn’t help but let his head fall forward as you worked.

“You’re so tense, Joel,” You whispered against his ear, fighting the temptation to bite at it, and all he could do was groan, “Let me help.”

As you progressed, kneading at his flesh through the faded fabric, you could feel his muscles gradually loosen and his breathing become deeper. Slower. You wondered when the last time, if ever, he’d been touched like this. When was the last time he had someone help ease the ache, helped bring him some peace? He made a sudden noise that pulled you out of your thoughts.

“There.” He sighed as your fingers worked in circular motions at the base of his neck.

“Here?” You smiled, pushing harder, and the sound his throat made sent a flood of heat throughout your entire body. His deep moans had you tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore the hot throbbing between your legs. “See I knew you just needed someone to help you relax.”

You could practically feel the pain and frustration leaving his body as his large hand covered your own, pausing your movements.

“Sit with me.” Joel’s voice was husky, the deepest you’d heard it tonight. He let out a heavy exhale when your hands left his body and you rounded the couch to straddle him. His thighs were strong and sturdy beneath you, giving you a nice seat. 

His large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, and you let your own hands trail up his solid chest and into his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy wisps of gray. Finally, they wrapped behind his neck and you pushed your lips to his.

It started slowly, a little hesitant on his part until you reached down to guide one of those large hands on your lower back down to your ass. Then it was more. 

You never enjoyed the taste of whiskey until you tasted it on the tongue he had inside your mouth. He groaned, low in his throat, and it made your head spin. His hands squeezed at you through the fabric of your short dress and you pressed yourself closer, feeling him harden beneath you. You kissed him deeply then, sliding a hand lower as you did. Your tongue dipped into his mouth at the same time you curved your fingers over the shape of his cock, feeling the swell of it under his jeans.

When you pulled away breathlessly, Joel chased you with his mouth until you were too far out of reach, slinking down to your knees. You gazed up at the entirety of him, at the hard rise and fall of his chest, at the way his glossy eyes stared you down as you made quick work of his belt.

“Starting to feel bett-” Your taunt was cut short by the surprise of his thumb in your mouth. One of those large hands slid down his thigh and up the side of your face, pressing his thumb inside, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth. He pushed down and forced your mouth open. You trembled at his sudden dominance and the vulnerability of it, feeling your pussy grow wetter and wetter. You were glad you were already on your knees because your thighs shook and his pupils blew wider.

Joel’s other hand met your face, framing your cheek. He slid the roughness of his fingertips down against the shape of your lips before pressing another thumb inside your drooling mouth. His eyes grew darker and he leaned in like he was inspecting you. He then pushed both thumbs down on your tongue, pushing back until you gagged.

“Gotta make sure there’s enough room in there for me, baby.” 

You whimpered as he pulled your mouth wide.

“But you take cocks all the time in here, don’t you? Bet you’re a pro by now, huh?”

He let you go, giving you a chance to catch your shaky breath. 

“Does that bother you?” You hissed, playing into it, “That this is what I like to do?”

“That you like bein’ a slut?” Your heart pounded at his words. You’d heard it all before but never the way Joel said it.

You answered by eagerly reaching back out for his hands that had gone back to resting on his thighs. You pulled both thumbs back into your mouth and sucked. You swirled your tongue around them, getting nice and sloppy, letting your drool run down onto his wrists, giving him a show of how good it felt to have something big and solid in your mouth. He let you have your fun for a moment until he was pulling them out again and you couldn’t help but whine. 

“Fuckin’ needy girl,” He groaned under his breath as he rubbed your spit over your lips, playing with them until you were absolutely aching to have him down your throat. Your trembling hands traveled to the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down. The noise he made when you finally got a hand around his thickness was guttural and you wanted to hear more. Fuck, you knew he’d be big. You stroked him slowly, wanting him to ache just as badly for it as you were. It was already so hard, the head wept with pre-cum as you fisted him the way you knew men liked.

You hated to let go but you needed him to use you right fucking now. You rested your hands on your knees and parted your swollen lips, presenting your face for him to take. Joel slapped the tip against your mouth. You tried to lick out at it but he pulled away, smirking when you whined in complaint.

“Please,” Your eyes squeezed shut, your cheeks burned in embarrassment when you realized how quickly he had you beneath him, yearning for a taste of his cock. But god, this was precisely what you’d been craving since the moment you'd seen Tommy going around and introducing him that very first day.

 “You gonna beg for it, sweetheart?” He held what you desperately wanted in his hand, just barely out of reach, teasing you so meanly. Want quickly squashed any embarrassment and you didn’t care how pathetic it made you sound when you mewled out for it.

“Yes,” Your voice was meek, “Daddy, please let me suck your cock.”

His eyebrows raised, “Daddy, huh?” He brought his cock back down your face, smearing pre-cum down your chin, “Ya call ‘em all that?”

You shook your head fervently. And it was the truth. None of your usual encounters had ever had you this strung out before they even started fucking you, none that you would’ve ever even considered calling “daddy.” None of them ever had you on the verge of tears with need like this.

“Say it again,” He ordered and you could actually feel the arousal dripping.

“Daddy,” You moaned sweetly and something in him broke. All hesitancy, all the apprehension within him was gone. He finally rewarded you as he thrust inside your mouth. You heard him hiss above you as your lips wrapped around him. God, he was so big. Bigger than you’d taken before. But as you’d made clear by the events of tonight, you loved a challenge. You moved your hands to curl around the back of his calves, holding yourself steady as he pressed deeper inside. 

"Shit," He cursed, "Fuckin' look at ya, such a pretty little cockslut.” Saliva dripped down your chin and all you could do was take it as he started fucking your face in earnest.

You were gagging but it only made him go faster, his fingers thread through your hair to pull you back and forth. The noises you were making were depraved and you’d be surprised if you weren’t dripping onto the wood floor beneath you with how wet you were. He used you like a toy, barely able to breathe, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you tried your hardest because the sight of him looking down on you in awe as you took all of him, calling you a whore… it was beautiful.

He lost himself in it, throwing his head back, making those delicious noises. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he pulled you in hard one last time, holding you right there, pressed up against his base. You forced yourself to breathe through your nose, to not break, to surrender to him as his cock pulsed against the back of your throat.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time he’d finished ruining you and pulled out. The filthy choking sob you gave when he did set him over the edge, releasing ropes of cum over your tongue and chin. 

“Daddy too big for you, baby?” Joel groaned, sounding wickedly amused as you gasped, attempting to regulate your breathing. He pulled you back up into his lap and you crumpled against him. He brushed stray hair from your tear-soaked cheeks, cooing something about being a good slut. He wiped his cum from your face, holding it to your lips for you to lick from his fingers. His cock twitched again as he watched how desperate you were despite being this wrecked already.

“Y’alright girl?”

“More,” Your throat was burning so your plea came out as a weak, hoarse whisper. Your thighs rubbed together unconsciously, the throbbing was almost unbearable at this point and he knew it. 

“More?” His laugh quickly turned to a groan as you gathered the strength to pull your sopping panties to the side and shifted in his lap, dragging your hot pussy against the length of his shaft. Your clit ached from the friction and you slid an arm around his neck to give yourself the leverage to start rocking your body back and forth on top of him.

“This pussy’s fucking starved baby, thought this whore would be satisfied, taking cock on the regular.” He tutted. “S’fuckin’ crying for it.”

A loud wail tore out of you as you increased the pace, about to cum before he ever even got inside you. But he stopped. Hands at your waist, halting you just before you reach your peak and your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Joel, no…” Your head fell in despair, too far gone to care about anything but needing to cum. He lifted and situated you above the head of his thick cock. ‘Yes, yes, yes’ is all you could think as you realized what he was doing.

You both gasped, mouths against each other, stealing each other’s breath as you sank down onto him. You took every last delicious inch, letting it stretch you until you were fully seated on him. 

You couldn’t control the tears that ran down your face from how fucking full, how fucking good it felt having him breach the deepest part of your cunt. Your mind went fuzzy when you looked down to see where you were joined, seeing how his slick cock split you open. 

“Look at you, baby,” Joel mocked you when he saw the way your mouth gaped open, “this what you needed? For me to fuck you stupid?” 

“Daddy,” You babbled, fluttering all around him as he held you down still, molding your insides to his shape, “P-please, please, please.”

“Fuck yourself on me, use it, baby, let daddy see you cum.” He growled, his southern accent so deep, “Show me how pretty you and this pussy are when you cum. Must be good, the way you’ve got all these men lining up to share ya.”

A high-pitched squeak left your mouth when his hands finally released you, letting you move. They went to lift your dress up over your head, exposing your bouncing tits for him. 

With your nails scratching sharply into his neck and shoulder, you raised then lowered yourself again and again and again. The obscene squelching sound and his glazed eyes on your tits brought you right to the edge once again.

“There you go,” his fingers dug hard into your hips to help you move once your thighs started shaking uncontrollably.

“Joelllllll,” You hiccuped, bouncing yourself harder and harder, chasing what you needed.

“Thought I was daddy,” He panted, his hands moved back to your ass and he gripped at you, slamming you down on his cock.

"D-daddy- fuck! Fuck!" You held onto him for dear life, your muscles turned to jelly as he thrust into your weeping pussy, letting him take over fully, just like he did to your mouth. 

Then your cries went silent, mouth went slack, breath ragged. You came hard around his cock, harder than ever before, squeezing him until he was gasping against your lips. You swore you could hear him whimpering before you could only hear your ears ringing. Your entire body shuddered with white-hot pleasure. 

“Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me,” You chanted through the aftershocks as he continued to rut into you, so fucked out of it you couldn’t even hear your own voice, “D-daddy, please, please, please...”

And then he was filling you, hips bucked up and cumming hard until he physically couldn’t anymore. He was at your ear, desperately moaning for you as you twitched around him, squeezing him, “Nghhhhh… hah, fuck, baby.”

His skin was burning, his eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched, pulsing so hard in your cunt, overstimulating you almost to the point of pain. Almost. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, this pussy…” He gasped, equally as overwhelmed as you felt when he slid out.

“Oh my god,” You held onto him tight, your bare tits pressed up against his still-clothed chest, just breathing him in as you attempted to calm yourself. 

“Let me see it,” He exhaled heavily.

“Hmm?” You shook, face buried into his neck, feeling his sweat on your cheek. 

“Need to see it leaking out. Show me.” He rasped.

You whimpered at his order when you realized what he wanted. He didn’t give you any time to regain your strength, he simply flipped you over the arm of the couch. He groaned as you bent yourself over the edge, widening your legs to give him a full show of just how good he’d fucked you.

“Spread yourself for me, baby.” He breathed, his chest still heaving.

You did as he said, your hand reached underneath you, spreading your lips apart. You keened at the feeling, so overstimulated that you could barely handle your own delicate touch. His eyes followed the cum dribbling out of you and down your thigh.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that.” Joel watched as he pulled his pants back up, buckling his belt. He reached out, sliding a hand down your lower back, making sure you stayed just how he wanted. You felt so incredibly naked in front of him like this.

“Fuck… can’t believe I just came in you… fuck,” He groaned as realization dawned on him. The spell broken.

“M’clean,” You moaned, head still fuzzy, “n’safe, I swear.”

He just sighed. 

“Joel, I promise. I never let them do this.” You tried to move but his hand held you in place. You didn’t know if he believed you or not but it was true. It was your rule. You were always safe. Your heart pounded at the thought of how different it had been with Joel, how easy it had been for him to take full control of you. Breaking your rules without him even realizing it. You didn’t regret it one bit though. And you hoped desperately that he didn’t either.

Joel didn’t reply, only asking what he owed you. You almost forgot what the hell he was talking about.

“Don’t worry about it,” You sighed as he let you back up, stretching in exhaustion. There you went breaking another rule. They always paid you. But with Joel, it felt like you should be the one paying him.

“Tell me what I owe you,” His features hardened.

“Joel, I-...” You were taken aback by his quick shift, “It’s fine. I wanted this, you don’t have to-”

“That’s not…,” He ran an exasperated hand through the tousled hair you’d just had your own hands in, “I wouldn’t have done this, otherwise.”

You wiped at your thighs with your discarded panties as you tried to make sense of his frustration, the dizziness still in your brain making it difficult. You wondered if you should feel insulted by his statement.

“Jesus, it’s not a big deal,” You pulled your dress back over yourself before facing him, “Get something from the Outfitters or whatever. I don’t care.”

“You should leave. I’ll get you your payment but you need to go now,” He backed away from you, avoiding your eyes. 

Before you could begin to try to wrap your mind around what had just happened, the sound of the front door being unlocked had both of your heads shooting up in time to see Ellie.

“Joel! I forgot-” The girl stopped hard in her tracks as she took in the scene of you and Joel standing awkwardly in the living room. It was silent between the three of you as she made no attempt to hide the way she was staring you down. Your face warmed again as you mentally thanked whatever God was out there that she hadn’t entered a minute earlier.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ellie turned to Joel, her brow furrowed.

“Ellie,” He scolded her language but failed to attempt any lie about who you were or what was going on. And you took this as your cue to escape because you had nothing to offer.

“Yeah…I’ll, uh, see ya,” You grabbed your bag off the coffee table and it took everything in you to walk and not sprint out the door.

[aliesbienish]

Love at first swipe

Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader. Modern Au.

Warnings: Cheesy AF. Innuendos.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cute smile. Check.

Kind eyes. Check.

Well written profile with no misogynistic undertones. Double check.

This guy must be to good to be true. Definitely a bot. Or married and cheating on his poor wife. Plus what girl hasn’t been screwed over by a ‘Ben’, maybe he’ll be yours.

Still against better judgement you swiped right on Mr. cute smile, and then called it a day. Closing tinder and setting down your phone, reluctantly getting up to make yourself dinner. Honestly having a partner to share the cooking load was just as appealing as the romance at this point.

Basic spaghetti made and glass of wine in hand you plopped back onto the couch to continue your next rerun of pride and prejudice, the tv show of course. At least you could always day dream of life with Mr Darcy, and if he was always looking like he just emerged from the lake then so be it.

Grabbing your phone to enter into some simultaneous mindless scrolling you saw a notification from Tinder pop up. Oh boy a new match. Maybe you needed more wine.

Of course you couldn’t help being intrigued, so you opened it up to see a new message from the definite robot himself.

Ben: Good evening [y/n], to what do I owe this pleasure?

You: Bit early to determine I’ll be a pleasure isn’t it?

I’m actually only here because I am convinced you are a bot and honestly chatting with a bot is almost guaranteed to be more exciting than chatting with a man.

Ben: I’m nothing if not optimistic. I promise I am not a bot. And before you say it; I know that it’s exactly what a bot would say but it’s also exactly what a human would say.

You: Touché. Alright Ben, prove it.

Ben: Do you interrogate all your matches or am I special?

You: You’re special. But don’t get sappy about it, I’m just suspicious that your profile doesn’t have a photo of you fishing or in front of a car.

Through many years of observation I’ve hypothesised that each human man must show one or the other.

Ben: And have you hypothesised why that may be?

You: It’s almost certainly something to do with their hunting and gathering skills. That or compensation.

Ben: And how was this concluded?

You: Well fishing is obviously a modern (and frankly boring) man’s hunting and gathering.Least amount of work and blood involved. These men want to prove they can provide, but will likely never actually do the real hunting and gathering ie. Grocery shopping.

Ben: Science seems sound. And cars?

You: Well that’s obvious. The bigger and shinier the car the smaller the 🍆.

Ben: I quite agree…but that might be because I own a mud covered beetle.

You: Haven’t you heard it’s best to keep expectations low?

Ben: And risk losing out? No thank you.

You: If you’re real, which the jury is still out, I’m sure that’s not an issue.

Ben: Still? I’m flattered. And while it may not be an issue let’s say why would I settle for bronze when I can have gold?

FYI that’s me saying I think you’re gold

You: thanks for the clarification. You’re really into calling this early aren’t you? 10 minutes and you’re obsessed.

Ben: It’s actually been about thirty minutes if you count when I first came across your profile and haven’t stopped thinking about you since.

You: That is either incredibly honest or an amazing line.

Ben: Oh it’s both. But first and only time I’ll use it, cross my heart.

You: So what next?

Ben: Coffee, tomorrow hopefully if that’s not too soon?

You: Tomorrows great. Meet in the city? Say Leicester Square at 11am?

Ben: Done. I look forward to it.

You: You’d better be real or I’ll hurt you.

You were standing in the square outside of the cinema, your agreed meeting place. Despite the anxiety in you wanting to call the date off you’d made it. It was likely a good thing you only had 24 hours or so to think about it. Ben had been funny and endearing and so damn sure he wanted to meet you. He seemed so lovely that it defied belief, but you were willing to suspend reality.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you spun around to come face to face with Ben. In the flesh, as handsome or in fact even more so than his profile photos.

You meet his eyes and suddenly you felt lost in them.

“Hi,” You muttered, a goofy smile plastering your face. “I’m [y/n]”.

“Hi back. My real names Benedict. But Ben is fine. Long story. It’s lovely to meet you properly.”

“Thank god we’re both real,” you laughed.

“To be honest I never had any doubt. When you know you know.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Maybe I’m just trying to manifest my own luck on the dating apps 🤷🏻‍♀️

[lebensmudewing]

I know that women hate when people implies that feminists are emotional and ideological and irrational. But I really don't see how it is not true.

Feminists spend every single day of their lifes complaining, protesting, feeding other women's fears and paranoia over men, they say mindlessly "I choose the bear" and then go to bed with their husband or boyfriend anyway.

In what world is that not irrational? Most feminists in the west are not in limit situations, they are free to not have any kind of romantic relationship with men.

I have talked to feminists and nothing seems logical to me. Like, men have created an entire system to opress and exploit women, that is cross-cultural and has existed for centuries and thousands of years. But they, somehow, are part of the few generations of women who have had the idea of trying to educate men to not be bad with women. And, without any proof of it, they believe it will work.

They think that if they tell men that women are people, if they educate them, if they teach them, if they cure them, if they show how feminism "benefits them too", they will give up and dismantle the whole thing.

But what is actually more benefitial to men than:

Not having to compete with half of the population, so it becomes easier to thrive.

Having a cook, maid, surrogate, prostitute, nanny for the price of a minimum income.

Not having to actually being held accountable for rape.

Not having to actually being held accountable for abuse.

Believing you are superior.

Policies and any cultural norm favoring you at every step.

What feminism offers?

Having to compete with everyone, so it becomes harder to shine.

Having to do an equal amount of labor while also paying bills.

Having to respect "sluts" and being accused of rape for having intercourse with women without honor or virginity. Having to give a damn about consent.

Having to give a damn about your partner.

Being force to believe that people who they see as inferior are equal to them.

Culture and policies being more gender neutral, or "favoring women".

It's seems like a joke, feminism is trying to sell a common stone at the prize of a diamond, while patriarchy is the opposite: the minimun amount of effort with the higher rewards.

Men are not more receptive, they don't see how it benefits them. "Being able to cry" doesn't compensate losing his job because a woman does it better than him. They see how they have to moderate themselves, to contain themselves, to put up with the "political correctness" and watch how women are still angry for some reason.

And they see how women, who are so angry with men, still have benefits from patriarchy. "They win most custodies", "They win alimony", "Other men favors them over me", "They exploit men", "They have to option to lay down and earn a lot of money, while I have to go to work". They think the game is rigged against them, women didn't work out their asses to pave the roads, but they still enjoy them while they condemn the men who did that.

They see how women say that men are rapists, beaters, abusers, and also how women engage in sex with strangers, have male friends, drink or drug themselves with other men. It seems schizophrenic to them, women complain about men and still engage with them in the most revolting ways. Such incoherence only have one possible explanation: women are irrational man-haters, women are like entitled children, women are destroying society.

Feminists don't seem to have a real problem with men, their hatred/fear/outrage is a mere performance. Maybe they have a problem with abusers, wife beaters, pedophiles, discrimination, but not men, not with male nature. They still benefit from the "good ones", their bills are being paid, their cellphones upgraded, their shelfs full of male written books. They don't seem to despise their husbands and boyfriends.

They can feel a lot about women's condition worldwide, but they don't act accordingly.

[pupkinpumpkin]

Headcanon time!

Thinking of my Lavellan learning when Cullen's birthday (or name-day I think) is during their little chess game before they enter a relationship

She keeps the info tucked away for later until a bit before In What Pride Had Wrought, where she realizes Cullen's birthday is coming up and wants to do something for him

So, the plan-

- Ask Cassandra if it's possible for her to take over Cullen's duties for a day (she's reluctant, but Lavellan begs, and she can't say no to being part of a romantic gesture, so she agrees, but she makes Lavellan promise to tell her all the details the day after)

- Ask Josephine and Leliana if they don't need Cullen for the day and if they're okay with Cassandra running the show instead (They give the okay and Leliana has her scouts inform Cullen's men)

- Ask the main cook if they can whip up some classic Ferelden meals, desserts, any other foods she knows Cullen likes, etc, for which they will be compensated for working outside their hours (she's very grateful, pays them way more sovereigns than she probably should've)

- Stands at Josephine's door for 5 minutes afraid to knock on the door, finally does, Josephine invites her in, and it takes Lavellan a few moments of blushing and hyping herself up to ask if Josie knows any places that may sell good wine or...lingerie. Josephine tells Leliana and Vivienne (mostly for advice on good stores, but also because of that sweet sweet gossip), Vivienne tells Dorian, Dorian tells Iron Bull, and guess what, they're all going with her on her secret shopping trip and giving Cullen funny looks when he asks why they're all going with Lavellan just to buy cheese

- I think she would have already been using her magic to help dull pain when he has headaches, but she'd be researching a lot more possible ways her magic could help with any negative effects just in case

- Buys a transportable chess set (those nifty ones that fold and hold the pieces), commissions a very nice Ferelden looking sword (with a mabari face as a hilt) from Harritt, and, after badgering Cullen about how, yes, don't deny it, you absolutely do use hair products, which ones specifically do you use, she buys a bunch of hair care stuff, because as much as she adores his curls, she knows how particular he is about it

The day comes and she doesn't sleep with how nervous she is over getting everything just right

She's learned Cullen's schedule by heart at this point, so about an hour before he usually wakes up, she gets ready (wearing a quite well-fitting dress) knocks on his door and he invites her in

She gives him the hair care as his first gift and sits on the bed as she watches him do his hair and generally just get ready for the day. When he makes the small remark at how even on his birthday, he's working, she oh so subtly tells him "Well, actually..."

She smiles at his disbelief, and when he starts stressing over all the reports he needs to finish writing or instructions he needs to give Cassandra on what to do, Lavellan calms him down and tells him that Skyhold will still be here when he gets back and she made sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything today, giving him the sword as his next gift

They travel to the same lake where he gave her the lucky coin and have a picnic full of food freshly prepared by the cook. They walk, talk, maybe even swim, she gives him the chess set, and they leave again for Skyhold, arriving just when it gets dark

She takes him to her room, gives him one last present, and then she immediately falls asleep because Creators is she tired. That lack of sleep got to her eventually.

Cullen just holds her in his arms, running his fingers through her hair, and thanks her, whispering that an entire day spent with her was the best gift he could've asked for

[seven-meds]

A few interesting Letters to the Editor published in various adult magazines between the 50s and the 90s. Transcripts and sources below:

1: Future Sex (Issue 6, March 1994)

I love your magazine. The articles are well-written, and it's refreshing to see adjectives other than the words "throbbing" and "turgid" being used. Bless you and your thesaurus as well.

I particularly enjoyed Kim Teevan's essay, "Self-Service" (Issue 4), but some of the terminology was used improperly. One woman commented on the power of her 12volt vibrator being powerful enough to bore her with men. Well, that may or may not be true, but it's not voltage that determines the output power of vibrators. (I am an electrician by trade so I'm quite familiar with how vibrators work.)

The "vibes" or "pulses" that come from a vibrator are dependent on its rate of electrical cycles, expressed in hertz. A really good vibrator will have a "rate of fire" of about 60-180 pulses per minute. That translates to about

1-3 hertz. Other good rates lie in the 3003,000 pulses per second range. If this sounds a little fast, don't worry about it. Three hundred to 3,000 hertz is the average frequency of the human speaking voice. It's a nifty little vibration but it doesn't carry as far as the electrically generated vibrations due to limitations in the body's ability to maintain a sustained tone.

If I can make a personal recommendation to heavy vibrator users, you can get about a 40% increase in output power on your vibrators by bypassing the resistors that send power into the vibrator itself. Just solder a little wire around them and you'll soon be able to come so hard you'll shatter windows all up and down your block.

Charles Harris San Francisco , CA

--

2: Night and Day (November 1952)

Dear Sir:

It's wonderful to pick up your magazine a letter from a fellow uniped such as Beth O. I, too, think it is about time we were being heard from. 1 am 27 years old, blonde and not bad looking at all. I lost my left leg at mid thigh in an automobile wreck. Also I have never been able to wear an artificial limb. I use one special crutch, and my boy friend says I get about as well as a girl with two legs. I wear a 6B shoe and would like to swap with any girl that wears that size. Maybe Beth O. wears that size.

I have been walking on crutches for over ten years, I play tennis, dance and bowl. Can anyone top that? I don't believe there is a one-legged girl in the world that can get about better on crutchés than me. I challenge all comers. It is quite a nuisance being one-minus, but as Beth said, it has its compensations. I haven’t bought any hose in years as my friends give me all their odd stockings. I am waiting with bated breath for your picture spread of us one-legged girls — might even send in one of mine if I can find a good one.

E.C. CONCORD, N. C.

--

3: Eqqus Eroticus (Spring 1997)

Dear Sir,

I’m a middle aged white male living in the Cleveland, Ohio area. I took an early retirement from the Federal Government over a year ago. But I stay in good physical condition by doing my exercises such as walking, bike riding and playing golf. So I can keep up with if not ahead of just about everyone my age and usually guys who are years younger.

I want to be a cart pony and I could be a cart pony, if only I knew of someone who could train me.

I have almost always been in control. I usually am in charge of what¬ ever I am involved in. At work, I was always the boss. Usually when I joined any club and social activities at some point I became the leader. That may sound great, but it is not easy being the one who has to make the decisions, to be the person people wait to hear from, to always be the responsible one.

Through it all or maybe because of it all, I have always had a suppressed interest in bondage. To “be” in bondage, that is. To be tied strapped, shackled or whatever into complete submission. But there was no one who could or would control me, and I still yearn for bondage. I want to know at the deepest level what it is like to be controlled, forced to respond to any whim of the person who controls me.

In my spare time I found a newsgroup that had all kinds of photos of people in bondage. What attracted my interest most was the pony girls, especially the cart ponies. They were totally controlled, physically and mentally. They weren’t just in bondage; they weren’t held in one position. They were forced to behave and obey just as their masters or trainers instructed them. They were in body harnesses, stiff high collars, with a bit in their mouths, and harnesses holding their heads just right. You might see them in a corral, practicing their gait. They might be shown in a stall, chained to a wall by their neck or ankle or pulling a cart with the whip ready to give them extra incentive to obey. They were always total slaves with no will or choice.

I want to be the one who is being trained as cart pony boy. Held by my reins in a stable or my bit secured above me, holding me straight as my trainer works on my gait. To know that the littlest mistake would be rewarded with a crack or two of the whip. A whip crack I have yet to feel. Taught patience by being left chained naked in my stall, to wait for whatever would come next. I even long to be the one locked to the cart, my head held high by collar and head harness, reins telling me where to go, proudly pulling my trainer. To know that when the trip was done I‘d be back secured in my stall, left alone to await my trainer’s next pleasure.

I’m not interested in appearing in public, or being in competition. I just want to experience what it is to live the training of a cart pony. Maybe out there somewhere is a trainer who would give me what I am looking for. I want this experience so much and I would be forever grateful. I’d prefer female, but since sex isn’t the object, a male would be acceptable. If there is anyone who would train me, they can reach me at my e-mail address shown below. Please help me fulfill my desires.

PonySlaveX@aol. com

--

4: Eroticon (Fall 1980)

Dear friends of Eroticon,

I read porno magazines secretly, because my husband would not like having such “dirty” things in the house. Couldn’t you show more close ups of the male models muscular buttocks? I also would like to see cocks being soft and nice before the erection. I would really love that!

Finally! A lady with desire. We shall try to get some of the models to overcome their vanity and show “him” in a relaxed state. I definitely agree with you — not only womens asses are tempting.

--

5: Divinity 7 (1994)

I am enclosing a cutting from the DAILY TELEGRAPH of the 8th September. This indicated the flogging of a bishop.

There are no details and I would be very interested to know more about it, there is no doubt that it was a severe thrashing, but the culprit did not need to have hospital treatment afterwards, and he was fit to sit and walk next day, therefore no real injury.

I think that many of us would like to have details, such as how was he dressed for the flogging, did he have pants and shirt on? Was he standing or laying down?

It would also be interesting to know the conditions for flogging in other countries like Pakistan, Arabia and Turkey, with descriptions of the faults for which one can be flogged.

A photo or two would be interesting or better still a video of an actual flogging in public or in private.

This being an item siutable [sic] for the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the true record of a news event I would think that a video or photos would be quite OK and legal imports, am I right?

As you are In touch and a publisher, I would like to hear from you on this subject, you may already have information or know of videos available.

Douglas Finlayson Essex

--

6: Transformation (Issue 6, 1994)

Dear TRANSFORMATION,

| recently picked up your Magazine #2...it’s great! | like what I’ve read in your magazine, especially a story titled “Dominant Lady Turns Boyfriend into Crystal” on page 10. | have this fantasy...about a dominant lady dentist who has a thing about a trampy TV, and fetish PVC or latex clothing.

Sometimes | am the patient, all dressed in shiny PVC. Other times I’m the nurse, in a white PVC uniform, long blond hair and a shiny nurse’s cap. The dental equipment is an old belt-driven drill and a sit-up chair.

If possible, I'd like to get in touch with Karyn R. and Crystal. But anyone...please write me!

K. Johnson

--

7: High Heels (Vol. 2 No. 7, 1965)

Dear High Heels.

I would like to see more pictures of handicapped girls in high-heels... I am enclosing some of mine, showing my 6" heel—some also show my peg. I have other pictures showing me in 7" heels...

Thank You,

U.N.A.

[neptune-scythe]

one thing about me is I will headcanon any and every character as some form of asexual, aromantic, or aplatonic because let's face it, there just isn't enough representation and canon content to satisfy

and because honestly any character, regardless of their canon interactions with sex or romance or friendship can still be on any of the spectrums, so there's literally no character that couldn't be a-spec

BUT

asexual Buck

i've got two headcanons that bounce around inside my head and make me feral

so first is fraysexual Buck who is only interested in sexing it up with strangers, people he doesn't know all that well or have any type of emotional connection or attachment to. This Buck probably doesn't put much thought into it or know enough about it to use the label, and even when the relationship does go farther and that attraction fades, he probably ignores that and just does it anyway because the romantic attraction is still there and he doesn't know enough to understand the nature of his attraction and accept it. So he just keeps at it for the sake of his partners even though he has no desire to do so for his own self.

I like to think this Buck also doesn't separate romantic and sexual attraction, so to him they're the same thing, which is why in a romantic buddie scenario, he doesn't understand those feelings (I prefer them as queerplatonic/alterous but there's something about them being romantic in this scenario that makes my brain go brrrr). Because whatever sexual attraction he had towards Eddie he turned into jealousy and was convinced was actually just all negative feelings and dislike (and complicated more by him not understanding his bisexuality yet and that he could even be attracted to a man in that way), and then they got close so fast, their emotional bond and connection formed so quickly that the attraction faded very soon as well, too soon to put much thought into it or realize what it actually was. And because in his mind, romance and sex are one and the same, he can't be romantically attracted to Eddie because he is definitely not sexually attracted to him.

Thus why even upon realizing he's bisexual and capable of being attracted to men romanticly or sexually, he doesn't include Eddie in that revelation at all, or have any clarity there.

but my personal favourite headcanon

asexual Buck who never knew that was something people could be or that it was okay to be that, so he just did it because he thought that's what people were "supposed" to do, and even though he didn't like it, never felt the desire to do it, somehow it made him feel normal because he was doing what everyone else was.

And somewhere deep in the back of his mind he knew he was asexual, knew he was different, and he felt broken and wrong because of it. So even though he didn't actually enjoy it, it calmed that fear in the back of his mind that there was something fundamentally wrong with him, so he just pushed aside whatever discomfort he had in the process in favour of being "normal". But he over compensates, he's searching so desperately to be normal and ok that he goes to far, he throws himself at strangers and anyone who will have him, anything to silence that voice in the back of his mind that knows that's not who he is.

And to make matters worse, its attention, what he always wanted but rarely got, it's the feeling that he matters, that he can make other people happy, that he'll have value.

It's not just that he throws himself into those situations, it's that people welcome him into it, they choose him. So yet again, even though he doesn't actually like it, doesn't really want to be doing it, he does ... because the feeling of being wanted, being chosen, and accepted if even for a moment is better than his physical discomfort and the voice in the back of his mind that begs to just be true to himself. But he can't listen because this is the only way people want or need him.

Maybe this Buck is greysexual, or aceflux ... or even apothisexual, but he definitely doesn't feel that attraction, he has no desire for that relationship other than for the attention and the fleeting feeling of being important to someone, or that his life has value because he's letting himself be used for the benefit of those around him.

And one day he'll realize he isn't broken because he doesn't want that type of relationship or never feels that attraction, that he doesn't have to fit some mold or perform a fake life to be okay and normal and acceptable.

[mariamariquinha]

Bossa Nova (Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x f!reader) - Ten

Nine | Eleven

Summary: Benny's pov (my boy is so stressed).

Word count: 7.482.

Warnings: Bad words, slightly talks about cop corruption, violence, crime, talks about mental/physical health, mention of use of pills, hospital environment and police work.

Author’s Note: I like my men like how I visualize myself: stressed and in need of a fucking break.

I'm also on AO3 now!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

If someone asked any woman who was involved with Benny at some point in their life about him, there would always be a universal phrase: he's complicated. Not 'complicated' in a 'he has a difficult and unstable life' way, because he did, but in a 'he hasn't known how to be a nice guy for a long time' way. 

Daddy issues. Classic. 

He was committed to the Major Crimes guys, especially Nick, because there was a part of him that hated to disappoint. Aside from ego or personal compensation, Benny saw a lot of his own father in Big Nick, so despite the two being almost the same age, the position of power gave O'Brien a very complex image of a patriarch – flaws and all. When Debbie left, it was clear that Nick would follow the same path as that father, with the difference that he would at least try to spend weekends with the children; Benny wouldn't be able to recognize what the 'head of his family' should be if he had to. 

It had been years since he was just Benicio Ramirez Magalon and not Benicio Ramirez Garcia Magalon, as if he erased every particle of his father from his own history in an arbitrary way, but still having that ghost on his shoulders with O’Brien. 

He didn't think much that night, but he knew it would be natural for him to walk away. It must have been the most genuinely decent thing Benny did for any woman under those circumstances. Maybe it was the fact that you knew how to set limits, that you recognized your weaknesses with an ease that Benny couldn't.

In conclusion, he was disappointed to not find you more resilient than finding out Nick slept with informants, which soon enough he caught himself being a fucking asshole. Maybe that's why, because of this lack of cynicism on your part and the excess of the same feeling on his part, Benny concluded that you were destined for good guys. Some who, at least, didn't make the decisions he made.

****

“And we have a fireplace.”

Yeah, indeed, they had a fireplace – one that was basically turning into dust. You stood there with your arms crossed, letting your mother inspect the apartment and make comments about it. While she and the realtor (a small woman named Eidra) went back to one of the bedrooms, you sat on the small bench left behind on the miniscule living room by the last residents, watching your father look through the window.

When you two shared a glance, the answer was all over the place: a huge and big and extreme and frustrated and disappointed no.

****

Listen, it could always get worse. That was life, you know? And you should know better than to expect that the divorce and the whole Isla stuff would pass by you. Well, it passed through you. With a delay, but still. 

Some of this was your fault, you could admit. Your brother had already advised you to negotiate the sale of the house as soon as the divorce procedures were in progress and you were so catatonic, in a way, that you didn't want to add more to what already seemed too complicated. After months, you found the buyers – good price, you made a profit. 

During Christmas, you ended up tripping over the closed moving boxes and spraining your foot, so on New Year's Eve you didn’t enjoy the trip as much as you could. A bad start to the year, but not the worst thing that happened to you in a long time. 

They were organizing a farewell party for Emma; by March, she would be at DEA headquarters leading their forensic team. You had to act surprised, and politely refused to help with the details ('I'm busy with this moving thing'), which she probably took as a bitter departure. Well, it was what it seemed to be. You didn’t call her off with that, but some part of you was feeling that pit of disgust. There was a murmur about whether or not to invite Major Crimes (even though they never attended that kind of thing), which everyone ended up looking at you for clarification. You didn't know, and that's what you said, accompanied by a modest shrug of the shoulders.

“Send an invitation by email, it's less work if they say no.”

Even because you had time to rethink the unfortunate occasions with O'Brien. You felt offended but you also felt guilty, which was a rather cruel conclusion that Nick was indirectly manipulating you. When you told Gina this, she just gave a genuine shrug and sighed.

“It isn’t like he wasn’t that kind of person before, you know.”

You felt bad – you felt used again. Doubted, discredited. And the fact that you thought you wouldn't care if it happened, that you would be as strong as you had been through the divorce, just showed that you had an ability to lie to yourself. Benny left that night and you knew he had the same realization too; you found yourself believing that the opinion of someone who still followed such strict orders from someone like Nick had no opinion value in your life.

You no longer fit into LASD.

****

“You have insomnia and lack of nutrients. I'll prescribe you some pills and vitamins for both, but I need you to pump the brakes. Burnout has been killing people lately.”

Perhaps, deep down, you knew that this distancing also came with your need to hide that your physical health had worsened. It wasn't that bad, but you had barely been eating and… yeah, you really didn't need another surprise with so much going on.

The doctor pondered something, eyeing the papers and you with a serenity that was closer to reticence. You waited, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, lacking energy to ask anything else. 

“... This seems like a pattern. The lack of sleep, your headaches… Have you considered another type of approach?”

Long short story, no. And he probably knew that too, since you were there and not in a therapist's office, so you saw him lean over the desk and give you one of those scolding looks.

“It’s very normal for people in your profession to have this type of behavior. Considering what has happened in your personal life, I would advise a psychological reevaluation.”

“I’m not depressed.”

But he hadn't hinted at it, or said anything like that out loud, which only made it all make more sense. He sighed in defeat, then signed the recipe and, alongside with it, put a flier about mental health just in case.

The medicines would be an unforeseen additional expense, but it should give you some peace of mind. At least you hoped so. 

****

“Yes.”

“Bad time?” Gina sounded quite confused on the other end of the line, so you frowned at her tone and stuffed the pills into your bag irritably, the breeze not doing much to cheer up your mood. It wasn't even summer anymore, but the day still felt unbearably hot.

“I’m not on my peak, no.”

Gina went quiet for a bit. In the background, you could hear the noise of people coming and going, as if she were in a crowded place. Calmly, you backed up the sidewalk until you were under the awning of the pharmacy you had just left, switching your phone from ear to ear to hear her better. 

“... What was it? Did someone die?” 

“Where are you right now?”

“I am…” You looked over your shoulder, then at the sign of the pharmacy printed right above your head. “Had to run some errands.”

“How far are you from the Good Samaritan?”

“Good Samar-Gina, I was joking about-”

“You won't believe who's here.”

****

He had been quiet since he arrived and it was understandable. Apart from the answers he gave to the police, there was not much interest in having any type of social interaction, which was respected: it was not as if he was or should have been accustomed to the context in which he was placed.

It was different from the other cases they had been following, Z mentioned. Maybe a slip, but no one could be sure because they weren't experts in psychological profiles and the idea of ​​involving the feds was out of the question. For a lot, there was intuition, experiences on the streets, informants… Murph had already checked, there was a strong lead and they were almost there.

No one wanted to mention the damn coincidences that led them to that hospital and, more precisely, the crime scene. Gina, perhaps, had reacted in some way that revealed a truth that no one wanted to verbalize, and Nick asked them to keep an eye on her – Emma’s leaving, until further notice these people would be a bit of a smartass. 

But what would Gina do, anyway? If she could? Would she call you of all people and ask you to pray for your ex's life? 

Still, Benny stood guard at the hospital until Gina finished work and kept an eye on the news, or at least Twitter. If you had known about it, there would already have been news on the internet and, if you had appeared, taken by an immaculate concern towards the tragedy, you would’ve already done so. All in all, the reason why everyone was on their last strings was how you going there could be harmful to the case.

Maybe that was the problem, after all: he didn't know that side of you. What kind of wife you were, what kind of friend you could be. Everything was too casual, limited to observations he made and the things he remembered when you talked. There was no more karaoke, nor costume parties or Cosmopolitans in your cards or a brother to rely on; he knew these things, but none of them were valid at that moment.

So when he saw you peeking down the hall right after Gina had left (when he himself was already determined to get out of there), Benny didn't feel so surprised because he had tested the odds. Cautiously, he stood nearby, watching your diminished, secretive posture pass by the nurses' table and take slow steps to where Theodore was at. He was frustrated, in fact, and maybe a little stressed by everything, because he certainly didn't expect you to make the dumbest decision possible.

You stopped at a safe distance from the room and didn't come any closer. With a bag slung over your shoulder, you gripped the strap tightly, standing still there as you saw what was left of a guy after getting his ass beaten up, perhaps processing things that Benny would never know about. 

The girlfriend appeared: Aileen. She also hesitated when she noticed you, holding a cup of coffee in her hand as she came up from behind. At this point, Benny became more alert, ready to intervene. Interestingly, Henderson was also returning from somewhere, certainly to pick him up, and his louder voice calling your attention caused a beautiful disaster, like an announced tragedy.

You turned around too quickly, right when she was already on your trail, and hit your arm on the coffee cup that seemed hotter than expected. It hurt, of course. You screamed as the liquid burned the skin of your hand, leaning down just in time for one of the nurses to come to your aid. Aileen stood there in confusion as the liquid hit her clothes, and before Benny could take any further steps to take action, the reality that everyone was in a hospital dawned on him and he stopped.

He exchanged a glance with you as one of the nurses took you to the emergency room. 

“What the fuck, is she out of her fucking mind?” Henderson asked eventually, even if they both knew he would apologize later. 

Benny didn't answer him, however; he doubted the answer even though he thought he was aware enough of your behavior. He just watched you go in silence, both fists clenched in anger. 

****

You had your head down, your eyes still wet from the tears from the pain you had felt. The nurse had been delicate and, considering it was relatively calm, was going through the entire process in a well-rehearsed way. The emergency room was still lively, with people going from one side to the other. When you weren't watching her clean the burn, you looked up at the other patients waiting: broken arms, bloody noses.

Last time, you saw Benny with his arms crossed near the curtain that separated your space, even though it was the only one far from the others.

You knew at that moment that you were fucked.

“Boyfriend?” The nurse asked, making you eye her then him rapidly. 

“No,” You two answered in unison, to which you ended up averting your gaze in embarrassment. 

“I'd like to talk to her privately, anyway. If you don't mind,” He pressed a little, not minding the rude tone he was using. 

She eyed him, then you. With a small nod of yours, she sighed in tiredness and rolled her eyes, tidying up the bandage before leaving. 

A silence hung in the air, tense and with a hint of the impatience he was clearly feeling. You ignored this, however, glancing at your injured hand here and there before adjusting yourself better on the stretcher.

“You know, when I was a rookie I used to get quite excited with the prospect of being heard just showing my badge,” He commented, so you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, perhaps the biggest problem in America is men with damaged egos because no one cares about the size of their dicks anymore.” 

“You always seem to have a metaphor for dicks.”

“It’s a talent.”

“As is your ability to put yourself in shitty situations.”

You looked into his face for a few seconds and found an anger that, in general, seemed to be the only thing available to you from him. No more smiles or sympathy: Benny had chosen his side of the story and, really, that was fine. Still, you couldn't help but miss the other version of him as much as you did at that moment.

“I'm not going to ask who told you because that would be a really stupid question,” He took one, two steps closer to the curtain, slightly pushing it to cover the both of you. “Let's be adults and then you tell me why you came.”

Good question. Great question, actually. Why were you there? Why did you make the fucking dumb decision to be the bigger person and show up? And, by all intends, to end up with a coffee burn from… 

Yeah, it wasn’t your prime, you could give him that. 

“He wasn't just my ex husband. And I didn't want to come, but I thought I would be an asshole if I didn’t do anything.”

Benny stared at you for a long moment then; he stood there, still, eyeing you as if he was looking for something – to the point of discomfort. You averted your gaze to the floor. 

“I've read your file, did you know that? As soon as you came in and became the talk of the team, I went to find out who you were,” It made you raise your head to him, taken aback by his sudden change of subject. “First in your class, completed a specialization while still graduating. You're kind of a genius, and honestly, you had every right to be a bit of an asshole to people.”

“... You don’t need to say this,” You said.

“What should I say then?”

“I can work with nothing,” And then you snapped at him, seeing his expression shift from serenity to full annoyance. “We’ve been doing this dance very well over the last few months.” 

When he didn't offer any further comment, sighing in impatience from your stubbornness. 

“What I mean is, you're a fucking smart scientist and everything, but you still insist on being naive like that.”

“I know,” You mumbled in defeat. 

“Do you now?”

In other times, there would be a cunning answer on the tip of your tongue; hell, in other times, you wouldn't even let him or anyone talk to you like that. The point was that you were so tired of putting yourself in this position, of facing things that weren't even your business because you had been in that defensive and combative mode since things started to get out of control.

You sighed and ran your good hand over your face, rubbing away the melancholy expression.

“Do you still like him?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise at his question, watching the way he was so serious about it. 

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean?” 

He shrugged. 

“Means whatever.”

“I don’t like him.”

“It wasn't what it seemed.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You don't know anything about my life to insinuate that kind of thing about me.”

“So answer me without sounding like I'm accusing you of something.”

“Well, then ask questions that don't sound like you're accusing me of something.”

And that seemed to have ended the argument (not the conversation), but Benny didn't move or seem willing to do anything to end the topic. 

“... What?” You asked with impatience. 

“The girl who spill the coffee on you, she-”

“Aileen,” Your interruption came with a huff, while wiggling the fingers of your bad hand. “Yes, she’s a stunning woman my ex cheated me with, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“I’m not trying to ask anything,” Benny frowned. “You're the one on the defensive. I don't want to know the details, I just need to make sure you don't put yourself in the front line of something that’s none of your business.”

“He’s someone I know!”

“Are you serious right now?”

“No,” You used a firm tone, watching him go from stern to doubtful in a beat. “I’m a human being and unfortunately I’m sensitive enough to visit my ex who was beaten by a gang of robbers. Do I wish I had done something to her for what happened? Of course, but unfortunately I also like my job. And my ethics, if that matters.” 

“I just don't want to have to clean up any messes again.”

Deep down, if you really cared, you would’ve been more outraged by what he had said to you. In the end, you just became even more pissed off, so it probably meant that you were mad. The audacity, the… That seemed like the kind of thing that put him closer to what Major Crimes really was.

“... You're quite an asshole, you know that?”

He sighed, looking away and probably reevaluating a route. 

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“Sure. How lucky would I be to endure two public humiliations without having provoked them? I really must be a saint.” 

“Then I’ll be the bitch. I meant exactly what I meant,” You both shared a stare. 

In fact, he was right: you were complicating everything. If you had just done what you meant to do, maybe you wouldn't have acted so immature, but there you were, holding your ground because you were an idiot. This was so frustrating, so stupid. You didn't need to do that, you didn't need to try to be something you weren't. No one ever imposed this type of behavior on you, there was no gun in your head telling you that things should be that way. 

You felt defeated. Your physicality, your face, everything exuded the reflections of a woman well out of orbit. 

“I'm going to tell you something very honest,” He took a few steps closer, searching the eyes you’d been avoiding until you could be looking at each other again. “I want you away from this case. Not because I think you're gonna mess something up, but at this point it's clear that your judgment can prevail over the evidence.” 

It wasn't like he was wrong, so you stayed quiet.

“Nick is going to end up being pretty scathing about what happened here today, so believe me when I say that this time I'm really going to let you off the hook. You'll owe me one.” 

Again, you remained silent, which was a bit surprising since you almost always had something to say. He was there, stern, giving you a well-deserved scolding, pointing a finger in your face, and it was as embarrassing as it was incredibly satisfying. It wasn't like what happened in your kitchen or anything like that, because he was truly mad at you, not the circumstances. Without Nick, Isla, Emma; it was you and him. You were the target.

His eyes were focused on yours, because he wanted to say it in all words. They seemed even darker, more powerful compared to yours, and that made you move in shyness. It was a side of Benny you didn't know yet.

“And please wake up. That girl isn’t half the woman you are,” This shocked you even more, since he hadn't stopped looking visibly irritated while passing his eyes over your body. “Nor half-experienced.”

Okay, well, that was… Well… 

He shouldn’t have that right, did he? Why were you blinking several times and not saying anything then?

You stayed quiet – you didn’t want to embarrass yourself somehow. And with your silence, Benny just nodded while averting his gaze for a beat too long, passing a palm over his mouth with a tense sigh. 

“She's going to discharge you and I want you away from here, understand?” He murmured, both hands placed on the mattress to cage you. 

If he asked (which he clearly wouldn't), you would explain the details of your drunken confession from that first date. Benny was very intense, definitive; that was his version a little beyond what happened in your kitchen, and if you pushed a little harder, you'd notice that his eyes were darker than normal, putting you in an instant trance, whether out of fear, regret or… something else.

His eyes, at that moment when you just didn't say anything, went from your eyes to your eyebrows and then to your nose and mouth, agitated about how to actually look at you. 

“Am I understood?” Benny pressed with a growl. 

You nodded. 

“Yes or no?” 

“Yes.”

“Great.”

He walked away with some hesitation, but opened the curtain to leave with a brutality that made you jump instantly. You let out a heavy breath, bringing your injured and closed hand to your chest in a somewhat unconscious act of protection, but not necessarily because of him. Benny was right; reactive, but right. 

What the fuck were you doing in that place?

****

“Why did you do that?”

Henderson was driving back to the station when he asked. The car remained silent, with no answer for a long time, and Benny continued to stare at what he had written down of what Theodore said.

“She’s a partner. Big Nick would do the same.”

“I don't think so,” Henderson snorted. “You like her.” 

Benny didn't comment on that either, because there wasn’t anything to add. In any case, the lack of a reply said everything his friend needed to know.

****

Okay, Benny did like you a little. Amicably. At first it was purely sexual, and he even thought about bragging to Connors that he had managed to fuck you first, because he was sure he wasn't going to make it past the first date. But even with all the other interesting women he did the same thing with, the indifference you had made it for him. If it was just that, if you had drunk a little less and gone to bed with him that night, that would be fine to you; maybe you even expected the other guys would know about it. 

Then you two kissed and he didn’t mention anything to anyone. You became funnier and prettier and he noticed the things about you. Benny found out he liked the idea of it being a secretive thing, to remember how you sounded, the texture of your skin and the smell of your hair and keep it to himself. You were an irredeemable nerd, but you were rebellious: you clashed with Big Nick, you had a beautiful, huge tattoo on your leg, you smoked marijuana, you messed with other girls.

He enjoyed your closeness, whether as a friend or as a lover. It was advantageous to have you around.

Since what happened at the hospital, Benny thought about apologizing and saying that he was just upset. They were really close to get that guys, there was a lot of pressure from above after the debacle with the DEA, no one was in the thick of the fucking around. He didn't apologize despite wanting to, though, because he knew things didn't feel easy for you either.

Well, he couldn’t be sure of it, if he liked you as if in a crush or just as a person who he got along with. You made him hesitate to make some kind of mistake towards you, so what Benny could say for certain was that he liked you. Just a little.

****

“Do you know anything about this?”

You and your dad were in the kitchen washing the dishes when he asked. His tone was low, almost discreet to be heard only by you and, hopefully, distant enough for your mother to take note of the question. The room was small, very different from your old house, and the walls provided good coverage so that she, who was on the emergency stairs smoking a cigarette, was at an even safer distance.

Still, you peeked out the small window above the sink and could see the smoke rising from the exact place you saw her climbing. 

Earlier, they arrived talking about how the newspapers and Twitter had reported what had happened to Theodore. You did no more than say that Gina brought it up, but you weren't on the case and it was ethically (as well as judicially) wrong for you to get too close. Still, you tried hard to say that you knew he was okay – which your father clearly managed to see as a half-truth.

“... I went to see him at the hospital,” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the dishes in front of you, not daring to find out how he was looking at you. 

“You two talked?”

“No,” You paused. “But I saw Aileen.” 

He didn't say anything; the tap was still on, but the noise of dishes being moved had stopped. You pretended you hadn't noticed, going to the cupboard and putting away the already dry glasses, trying to stay away from the excruciating gaze you felt on the back of your head.

That silence had meaning; your father could go days without bringing up the subject waiting for you to talk about it. Like it or not, you could let him use this strategy, and you would have more time to decide how to talk about it, but your mother knew this habit better than you and, well, there was a reason why you were talking away from her. 

You closed the cabinet and turned around, moving closer to him before leaning the small of your back against the table, defensively crossing your arms. He turned off the tap, dried his hands; the worried expression never left his face.

“I was in the hallway and one of the detectives in charge called me. I turned around without realizing she was behind me, so she accidentally spilled hot coffee on my hand,” You held up your hand wrapped in the bandage.

“So you two didn’t interact? Aside from this?”

“Like in an indian soap opera, yeah,” Your answer made him hiss. “She apologized, I think. I don’t remember a lot.”

Well, it was a lie – one he could catch from a mile away. You remembered each piece of moment you could grab from that mess: the way her eyes widened at the sight of the coffee being spilled on your skin, the way she raised her hands to reach out, the pain, the step back you gave to make sure she wouldn’t get any closer and, specially, the way Benny and Henderson were watching the whole scene. 

The reason why you didn’t go into a spiral of remorse was this fact, that amongst Z or Nick, the ones who were there were the least worse. Gus was nice, polite and Benny was… Benny. And for days you expected for something, for Emma to give you one last penitence or for O’Brien to spill some shit on your face; God knew you deserved it all. It was a bad feeling. You didn't like the idea of ​​feeling embarrassed, the exposure or even your lack of reaction, but more than that, you felt torn by the idea that you hadn't felt as sorry for Theodore as you thought you would.

“It’s just… I’ve been punching myself for even going there in the first place,” You sighed in defeat, your good hand passing all over your face. 

“Maybe we raised you way too well.”

“That’s not entirely true… But not because of you, that is.”

And you knew you shouldn't have said that, at least not in those words, because then he would come with more arguments about how you should let your mother in, about how she wanted to be part of your life and how it would be better to have her as a support – as a woman-to-woman conversation would be more enlightening.

He didn’t even need to point that out, in fact; you already slipped in before he could open his mouth. 

“I think it's better not to.”

“Because she could be too harsh?”

“Because she could be too honest. I love her, dad, I really do, but I had a hell of a moment with a coworker that makes me ashamed to even look at his direction because of it. I…”

I don’t want to disappoint her again. I don’t want to be a burden. 

It was always much easier for your brother when it came to your mother: she welcomed him and they just understood each other. With you it was always a problem. She said you spent a lot of time with your dad, that you must be like this or that, that, honey, Theodore is a great kid but I don't think he'll come back after college. He returned. You got married. You got divorced and, during all the crises, you were also embarrassed to come back with your tail between your legs to say that she was right in a way. You made your brother swear under professional secrecy that he wouldn't tell her anything, but you still contained details just in case.

So no, it was better not to. It would be another shame, another thing that she would look at you with great pity, and you were tired of putting yourself in that position.

“I'm off the case anyway. Gina doesn't report to me, just like she gave the tests to the person on the other shift. There's no risk of me getting closer to Theodore again.”

“But you were looking for something when you went there. Did you find it?”

You stared straight at his eyes for a long, beating moment. 

“... I did.”

“And what was it?”

For a brief second, you could still feel the sensation of seeing Theodore beaten up, the dried blood and lowered eyes. Could see the way he seemed fine, injured but not unstable, able to still be operative, essential to the industry. 

“Relief.”

****

“I know you.”

You didn't expect it to come out so full of doubt, but you expected him to have some memory lapse in the time you had seen him.

Dr. Cillian Byrne was a professor you had at university just before you changed your major. It was in your first year, at the end of the first semester, and with the changes in the curriculum for your audiovisual expertise, you only had the chance to attend, roughly, three or four of his classes. He was a bit young for the position, people said, and when your academic psychopathy caught other people's attention, they told you the same thing. Unlike him, you never went that far. After you graduated, you joined the LASD and managed to pass the evaluation for field CSI, but with so much bureaucracy in the way, you ended up stationed in the laboratory for good.

Looking at him there, it felt like a full circle moment. You didn't connect the dots until that last name took place and you exchanged glances with Emma from afar, who just shook her head lightly as if to say you shouldn’t mention Ballard. 

“I took some classes with you in college,” You mentioned after saying your name, watching his eyebrows raise in recognition. 

“Right, I remember you. The girl who ran to the second boring stuff in CSI.” 

“The second?”

“It's the rule. First come the academics, then the laboratory rats, then the coroners and only then the self-centered field ones.”

Emma was walking towards you when he said that, so when she got closer and saw that the two of you were sharing friendly laughs with each other, she went from confused to pleased in seconds.

“It isn’t that usual to see a successor at a faraway party, but I feel like it’s going well,” She said.

The hotel ballroom was full (exaggeratedly, but fair enough) and judging by the amount of times you saw Dr. Byrne going from group to group with smiles, you could agree that he was breaking the awkwardness of being there under these circumstances. Maybe it was the mood itself. Everyone was well dressed, sipping expensive drinks they could only have on special occasions, laughing at whoever was on duty and taking photos for Facebook; the boring part could wait until the next day.

“I was telling her she’s the first familiar face I've seen here, which is a surprise,” Dr. Byrne lied, so you sipped on your soda to avoid giving that away. 

“... Oh,” Emma frowned, a confused smile fighting for its life to not make her discomfort so evident. “You do know each other, then.”

“He was one of my professors in college.”

“Almost,” He teased, eyes swiping from you to her. “I found out just after two weeks that she fled to the computers.” 

“You seem to have been upset about this,” She was the one teasing now, on the verge of embarrassment to be honest. 

“Well, when you start hearing how much this student who changed majors became one of the bests… It’s hard not to feel at least jealous, right?”

And perhaps Emma and you would talk about this in the future if it hadn't been in that sensitive context, because it was clear that Dr. Byrne had looked into everyone in the department and was perhaps doing background checks as if he were doing his homework. It was the first time in months that you and Emma exchanged a similar look, raising your eyebrows and understanding the situation right away, sharing glances with an inside joke that you hadn't told each other for a long time.

“She’s really great, I have to admit. Hurts me to leave this whole amazing team, to be honest,” She went the easy and polite way, one hand tapping on your arm. “I'm sure you'll get along great on a daily basis.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Who else would give me a better report on what’s up with the infamous Major Crimes’s gang?” 

This time, the discomfort that had been eating away at the edges and that you were able to overcome came to the surface, which made you step back with confusion close to indignation. Dr. Byrne seemed neutral despite this, smiling from ear to ear as he watched Emma unsure of what to say and then you, coming to the inevitable conclusion that he was an idiot.

“... I’m afraid that I’m not the best person to expect that. Perhaps the sheriff?” You gave one more chance to get away with the topic, but he shook his head and insisted, keeping that smile that started to scare you off a little. 

“Why wouldn't it be you? Emma told me that you all have an extensive professional partnership. Not to mention the quality of your reports on Ballard's cases.”

“Oh.”

“I just told him that you could explore more of your expertise with the complex cases they work with,” She rushed to add, the glare on your face now clear as the day.

“I see.”

“But I believe, Dr. Byrne, that I also added that she knows how to limit herself to technical reports, all personalized for each context. You saw it yourself, as she was an expert on a case with one of our most senior detectives.” 

Only then, perhaps added to the way you were no longer so interested in being friendly around the subject, did Dr. Byrne step back and nod, praising your ability to remain professional in the work environment or something. You honestly stopped paying attention, eyes swiping over your drink in hand to avoid any signs of clear embarrassment. 

“I’m really excited to start this new journey with you all. See you on Monday?” He turned to you, giving just enough time for your reaction to snap your head up and force a smile. 

“Of course. Welcome to LASD.”

You two shook hands, then he left. 

But Emma stayed. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Did you also mention your friendship with Walsh?” You couldn’t help the venom on your voice, which made her sigh. “Very professional, Emma. Very professional.”

“He just did the research, okay? I wasn’t intending to share everything about you guys, but he just came by with a fucking folder with all your names on it. Not to mention what the sheriff told me…” 

Not that you were in a position to speculate, much less to sympathize with whatever she had faced, but Emma lost her neutral posture as soon as he walked away, that you lost some of your irritation and eyed at her suspiciously, seeing her looking around and making sure no one would hear.

“I made a list of recommendations, but he didn't even read them and said that Byrne had already been chosen. Nick came up to me and said that-”

“You talked with Nick about it?”

“See how weird things are,” She rolled her eyes. “I think he feels threatened. Byrne is close to the sheriff, this could undermine O’Brien's freedoms.”

“And is it bad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, when you know how someone operates, it can be easy to guess, but I’ve never been around him enough to be sure of anything.”

“So you’re suspicious because of this,” You concluded and she agreed. With a deep breath, you looked around just as she did minutes before, catching sight of Cillian and Lennon talking. 

“He’s… an academic.”

“He’s a brat,” You shook your head, biting your lower lip while still staring at him from afar. “Older men, high IQs... Just the smell of testosterone bothers me.” 

“It's not like my feminine presence made any difference.”

When you looked at her again, surprised by her condescending tone, Emma was sipping her own drink with some embarrassment. You didn't know if you should give any approval, if you even had the right to do that, but you knew that it was just her trying to have a clearer conscience about what happened. Byrne was going to take over, and she admitted she had misgivings about the guy – it was noble, like a last shred of ethics in the middle of what seemed like a specifically planned transition.

“... You made it easier for Walsh to take over the case once and for all, didn't you?” 

Emma kept quiet, which was enough of an answer. Not knowing what to say, you nodded along in that silence, unsure if you were shocked or just… relieved. 

“I can understand your disbelief in Nick's methods. Take it from me, I had some problems because of it,” You conceded, so she raised her eyes at you sheepishly. “It's hypocritical to say that in parting, but I was upset that you did that knowing that Walsh would somehow throw me into the fire.” 

“You better than anyone could understand that it was an inevitable consequence.”

“I do, that’s why I never tried to make it a big deal all these months. God knows we have a lot to be forgiven for, so… Be careful with Mathias, ‘kay? Just as you’re telling me to be careful with Byrne.” 

It was the closest you and she could get to resolving the problems. In the future, perhaps, you could look at it more coldly and understand that it was too dramatic, but it wasn't the time; at the moment, the two of you have reached a consensus for the greater good.

The kind that included men with a lot of midlife crises.

****

Benny had seen the whole scene, from Byrne approaching you, the jokes he made you laugh at and even the moment he made you throw a look of disgust at him. He shouldn't even be there anymore: he had a date that night, one that would probably result in a good fuck and none of Emma's rascality. Still, as he watched you interact with those people, Benny ended up traveling in thought again.

He thought he missed what you had risked before. You were more relaxed, determined; you had no way of deciding what he was because the two of you barely knew each other. The dress you wore there was similar to the one on your first date, but not the same. If he tried, he could still feel your awkward drunken ways or, with more effort, visualize the result of an alcohol-free night like the one you were having at that party.

Deep down, Benny wanted to feel like a good guy because, for some reason, he didn't want to put you in that trophy position like he did or would do with other women. This comforted him; encouraged him. If he got closer again, if you started a relationship again, he was afraid that he would succumb to the boredom of not being able to hold on to that heroic feeling of having spared you from something toxic, that would soon hurt you or he would hurt himself.

“Are you going?” Connors asked as soon as he felt Benny shift beside him. “She’s gonna say some words.”

So he stayed, both feet firmly planted on the floor as long as he could, watching each other as Emma went up on the small improvised stage to test the microphone and you, who remained in the same place, one arm resting on the bar counter as you looked at the scene with a blank expression.

“You know, I never thought I would go through this before I was 60, but I think destiny is something impressive,” Emma said. “Having to say goodbye to you all is painful, but I know that this new phase will be transformative for all of us. In a positive way, that is.”

You passed your hand (the injured one) over your mouth, as if you were hiding a reaction even though no one other than him was paying attention to you.

“Since I'm not much of a talker and since I know I said my private goodbyes to everyone here, I'd like to recite one of the emails I received from my mentor once I got my position at LASD.”

Everyone got quiet. 

“True peace is only truly achieved when we realize that we cannot be all good and, therefore, we will be villains for some and heroes for others. It’s an unfair and cruel measure, but despite being protagonists of our own stories, our moral compass will not always point in the right direction. It’s up to us, as human beings, to embrace our weaknesses and ensure that, within our obligations, we can do our best. Therefore, our sacrifices will soon be seen as choices, which will or will not shape who we’ll be as people.”

It was only for a second, a thousandth of a second, when Emma finished that corny speech and everyone applauded, that Benny looked at you again and saw that you looked back. It shouldn't have meant anything to you, just like it did to him, but he knew that, perhaps, that adventure should’ve ended before it began.

That was the choice you two made.

****

No pressure tags:

@cheesybadgers

@thoroughlymodernminutia

@seaweeden

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@servenas-inner-fangirl

@mysoulisasunflower

[beevean]

Hhhh...Isaac forced to pick between hector and his loyalty to dracula goddd makes me insane every single time. You gotta respect your lord's property sure, but at what cost...

Yessss I love this part of Isaac's hypocrisy 🥰

He's loyal to his Lord, but his Lord isn't loyal to him. Now, don't get me wrong, Dracula respects Isaac and talks affably with him, he is still a General and an important figure, but well. Do you think Dracula would mobilitate Hector and his army to look for Isaac had he disappeared? :)

So it's just... sad. Isaac thinks of himself as a tool...

"If you have a good weapon, you use it, don't you?"

... he ties his identity around serving his Lord...

"I will always be Lord Dracula’s most devoted servant. Even without Hector, I alone will be Lord Dracula’s close aide."

... but by this logic, he should accept that Dracula thinks Hector is better than him. But he doesn't. Oh boy he doesn't. Man, does he crave "getting closer to Lord Dracula" like Hector did. A selfish desire much akin to Hector's desire for freedom :)

And sure stings even more that Hector threw all this praise and appreciation away for something so stupid as "principles" and "morality" and "scruples", right? :)

And this reflects in how Isaac sees Hector. Hector was most likely his only friend in the world, his only peer, and yet he became "the better one" through apparently nothing but sheer talent, Isaac stuck in his shadow. Julia confirms that he respected his friend and rival and that's why only Hector should have the "right" to kill him, but at the same time, he goes through great lengths to get a fair match to win against him and finally prove his superiority, even when it's not convenient for him. He hates him, but he won't just get rid of him efficiently. He resents him, yet he wrote his name under his boot. His plan of revenge is calculated to the detail: he doesn't just want Hector to suffer, he wants him to suffer the exact same pain and loss and feeling of powerless Hector made him feel. He takes great joy in manipulating him, relishing in the power he suddenly has over his former friend, to compensate for all the power he had over him in the past, without even being aware of it.

Isaac is made of complicated relationships with the people he loves, always verging between devotion and resentment, self-nullification and selfishness, brimming with jealousy but not recognizing the source of it. Even with Julia, we know very little but what we know hints at lingering care that nevertheless isn't enough to save him from his obsession.

This is the serious part of the post. Now here come the headcanons:

You gotta respect your lord's property sure, but at what cost…

And this is also why I love to imagine Isaac's feelings in a Hecula scenario where he all but becomes the third wheel for both of the men he loves :) oh he would be so mad! He wants both of them but he can't have either! Unwanted from both sides! What does he even live for?!

Well, that's what he thinks. Hector would dearly prefer Isaac over Dracula. But that, too, would enrage Isaac. How dare you reject our Lord over me! How dare you spit in the food that I want! But deluding himself in thinking Hector loves Dracula more than him would mean accepting his worthlessness, and he can't do that, not after working so hard to prove that he has worth, as Lord Dracula's servant! It's too much!

And he can't even bear to think that maybe, just maybe, his Lord is wrong. He's wrong in playing favorites, and he's wrong in dehumanizing Hector (both in the "golden child" sense and in the "turning into a tool" sense), who inevitably would get to a point where he's sick and tired of this situation. Isaac cannot sympathize with Hector. He can't accept that his God is a flawed man, that He would hurt them just like the humans did.

He can only blame Hector and see him as a spoiled ungrateful brat, because it's easier to blame him, perfect Hector who ruined his life and who is everything Isaac wishes he could be.

Sometimes, I imagine a scenario where Hector attempted to ask Isaac to run away together, if he truly saw him as a friend. But then I tell myself, no. Hector knows Isaac too well, and he's not one to waste his breath. Lord Dracula over Hector. Lord Dracula over Isaac. Maybe even Lord Dracula over Julia. No matter how much it breaks Isaac inside. That's just the stupid human part of him that he has to erase to be the perfect weapon.

Isaac wants a lot. He's all passion, drive, determination and desires, but with none of Hector's self-awareness and self-acceptance. That's why I love him so much.

[cry4vin]

may I request some hc’s for fem ! reader being in a poly relationship with villain ! izuku, katsuki and todoroki <3

Of course!! Sorry this took me a while, it came to me in pieces. But I hope you enjoy!!!!

✧ Katsuki was first.

✧ He had been cleaning up after some of Izuku's men, as he usually did when a job got dirty and nobody else wanted to do anything about it. 

✧ After assessing the situation at hand, he began to make his rounds through the area, making sure there was no unnecessary casualties. They were villains but they had a few morals. While walking down past an alleyway, he heard your weak whimpers and soft cries, he immediately knew you were way different from their current target just by the sounds of your cries. 

✧ It only took Katsuki a few seconds to beat the bastard down when he realized you were being harassed. You’d been pretty shaken up from the guy's actions so Katsuki didn’t blame you for trying to keep your head down when you thanked him, but he did manage to catch a glimpse of your eyes, a glimpse he wouldn’t be able to shake from his mind. 

✧ And he really couldn’t. He tried, he really did, but every time he tried to rid his mind of the thought of you, his pants would tighten up around him. He was only able to take care of the problem when he was alone, but trust me, he was still anything but quiet. 

✧ Then, Izuku finally caught word of the incident.

✧ Izuku wasn’t the type to get caught up in drama going on in the “workplace”, but when one of his men came in badly beaten and swearing up and down he’s quitting, he just needed to know what he did to get fucked up that badly.

✧ Hearing that Katsuki was the one to deal the damage didn’t surprise Izuku, but hearing that it was over a girl definitely caught his attention, so much so that he felt he needed to confront Katsuki himself about this. Yet, Katsuki didn’t give him much to work with, he wanted you for himself too, remember?

✧ Izuku was good at digging around, he knew the city and most of its people like the back of his hand, so it didn’t take long to find you or figure out your daily whereabouts. The issue at hand had been how would he approach you without being creepy?

✧ When he did eventually think up a plan and apologize for the bastards behavior, he asked if you wanted any money as compensation for emotional distress, maybe a few hundred dollar gift cards to your favorite stores, and if not that then maybe his personal credit cards, or roses and chocolate. Seriously, he was so smitten with you at first glance that he told himself if you asked him for all his money at that moment he would have given it to you. 

✧ Not only just his money, or expensive gifts, but his children too. Those few women out there that were lucky enough to know of him would beg and whine for him to give them a chance, proving that they could fit the role of his wife. But a few words exchanged between the two of you secure your spot. He’d become so confident that he would win you over, he wasn’t even worried about the chase anymore, just how quickly he’d put you in a mating press, pushing loads of cum back into you while you begged for him to fuck you more

✧ Shoto was different. 

✧ Anyone who knew Shoto knew it’s not like him to mess with someone else’s relationship, he didn’t care much for relationships anyway, until he had stumbled upon you and Izuku enjoying a private, outdoor dinner. 

✧ Again, he himself knew that he wasn’t the type to get involved with someone else’s partner, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him right?

✧ And that is how you found yourself ending every date with Izuku by pretending to leave, only to make a rather large U-turn to Shotos area of the house. 

✧ Now, you also knew that you weren’t the type to cheat. It was an immoral, unexcusable, and unforgivable thing to do. Yet, why did it always feel better getting fucked by your date’s best friend in the same house they share, moaning louder with each footstep that passes by, the excitement building in your system at the thought that it could be Izuku walking by. 

✧ But, you also knew that if Izuku found out you had been cheating on him, he wouldn’t take it lightly. I mean, how could he? He’s known you for barely a week and already confessed his love for you at least once a day. You weren’t ready to see what he was capable of if he were to get hurt by the thought of you and both his friends.

✧ Yes, both of them, because when Shoto doesn’t pull you to his room, the other one does. “The other one” was also the one to claim your virginity. You’d come back with Izuku from the late first date and Katsuki couldn’t resist the temptation he had to talk to you. So when Izuku coincidentally got an alert of another plan gone wrong and had to leave, Katsuki wasted no time building a conversation with you that eventually led you back to his bed.

✧ Juggling the boys wasn’t as much fun anymore, now that having to hide two relationships from Izuku was starting to rid you of your energy. 

✧ Bringing up the idea of an open relationship to Izuku, now there wasn’t much that scared you but mentioning you wanted a relationship with him and his closest friends, that one would have you sleeping with one eye open. But after some convincing, Izuku surprisingly obliged, he was serious about giving you anything you wanted to make you happy, even if that meant having to share you.

✧ Shoto wasn’t bothered much by the change in relationship status. It was basically the same as it had been for him the past week, except now everybody else was acknowledging it.

✧ Convincing Katsuki was another story. A longer one too. Seriously, it took half a month for him to get used to the fact that he had the same girlfriend as his two best friends. Instead of complaining most of the time, he picked up easier jobs that allowed him to be home more, ultimately giving him more alone time with you.

✧ As for how alone time worked for you guys. 

✧ While being polyamorous meant that you were dating all three of them, you still managed to have alone time with each of them every now and then.

✧ Private time with Izuku happened the most, it only made sense since he had been the leader of the group. When you aren’t resting at home or out with a guard shopping for yourself, you’re more than likely sitting nice and pretty on Izuku’s lap during meetings, or on a late night date that ends with the two of you in a honeymoon suite getting drunk and flirty. Izuku was a sweet lover. He’s gentle with your body and is attentive to what you like, and he always begins slow, with both foreplay and penetration. He figures the more he whispers dirty things in your ear and teases your sensitive spots, the wetter you would be for him. 

✧ Even though you’re wet enough to the point where he could just push himself inside you easily, he made sure to enter as slow as possible. There were pro’s and con’s to this though. On the brightside, you could feel every inch, on the not-so-brightside, you felt every inch, and he had a little too many extra inches for you :( 

✧ As we discussed earlier, Katsuki of course is free to be with you almost anytime, and he does take advantage of this. Of course, each of them have their own room, they do share a bed when everyone is home, but not everyone is always home at the same time. So when Izuku was gone on a “work trip” too dangerous for you, or Shoto had been out of town to visit his older brother, Katsuki had you all to himself. 

✧ Your time with Katsuki was always long, since you usually had him for up to a few days at a time, but that didn’t mean he took his time with you. I mean, he used to, but when he found out you liked getting it rough with him, how could he resist? Though he was quick, his stamina and endurance were higher than the other two, meaning you had more rounds with him. Way. More.

✧ There wasn’t a position the two of you haven’t tried, or hole. A favorite position between the two of you was having you bent over anything and everything. Round after round, he would have you cumming on his cock, limping to the next area he felt like fucking you in, and staying still like a good fuckin’ girl while he lined himself up to your entrance. 

✧ Katsuki was rough in the way that he fucked you hard and deep, not thrusting again until he’s sure he’s hit your cervix, and occasionally speeding up when you beg him to. Any bruises or love bites you left with? You begged for it. Any handprints on your ass you left with? You begged for it. Any cum dripping out of your panties? You begged for it. Anything you asked him for, he gave to you, and he sure as hell didn’t disappoint. 

✧ You experimented the most with Shoto. New positions, new toys, new supplements, new tips, name it and you’ve probably tried it. Before Shoto, you weren’t sure you had any kinks, nor were you aware of half of your sensitive areas or different ways you were able to cum. Shoto wasn’t fast or slow, he could be both if he wanted to, it was a perk of experimenting with you. He could do quite literally a bit of everything. 

✧ Though he might’ve been quiet around others, he was anything but that when you would ride him, he was most definitely the most vocal of all of them. He had always made everyone in the house aware that you were bouncing up and down on his cock, or that you were getting a throatful of it. He also encouraged you to be loud with him, well, at least when there wasn’t a gag in your mouth. 

✧ Having all three boys together is a whole other story. 

✧ The boys weren’t really into each other, they were just friends who happened to share a girlfriend with each other, but every now and then when things get a bit too steamy too quick, they will make out, and pretty sloppy too. 

✧ They all alternate between your mouth, your cute lil’ pussy, and sometimes your ass. I say sometimes because the boys are pervs. They get off to watching each other have their way with you, and you just lay there and take it, conditioned to be their sweet girlfriend in public, and their perfect, obedient fucktoy in private. 

✧ I know I already mentioned that they’re not really into each other unless they’re overly turned on, but I forgot to add that they do love to talk dirty to each other as well, encouraging each other to fuck you harder, telling each other how good they’re doing, how badly they wanna kiss them, how badly they need them.

✧ They made sure to get you on a pill, because they all despised condoms. They loved the way your pussy felt when it would squeeze around them as you came, they weren’t about to let a thin piece of plastic get in the way of that. No condoms also meant you could hardly tell whose cum was whose, and there was way more of it since you didn’t have the one traditional boyfriend. 

✧ As for the aftercare, all you do is relax. You would think that big, scary villains would make you clean yourself up, but these villains were exclusively sweet to you. How could they be mean when you’re just too damn cute? From the moment you mention you’re tired to the moment you're tucked in bed, you don’t lift a single finger. 

✧ Did I mention sleep with them is the best? No? Well, it definitely is. Having all three men cuddle you gives you the best sense of peacefulness, you know they would never let anything happen to you, and they’re actually really soft when their bodies are relaxed. 

✧ In conclusion, I now want this relationship.

[chesters-ocs]

My brain just went "Sylvester is probably scary as hell when he gets really mad." And so now I have this strong need to see him angry.

So I'm humbly requesting Sylvester tearing into someone with his words and maybe his fists. Honestly, it could even be Stone, because God knows Stone deserves to be yelled at. (But honestly, whoever he yells at is put to you.)

hm;; inch resting;;; to be fair, he deserves to be scary. as compensation for being the shortest one. also slight ranch au rewrite up ahead because methinks i can do better now >:3

wc: 1.5k

"Why are you here?!"

The house went quiet as soon as the icy words left the shortest of the bunch, who had went to open the door when the bell rang.

Butcher slowly turned around at the table to face his friend, his face twisting into one of discomfort, as he watched the tail of the man thrash back and forth wildly, hardly a hint of the usually composed energy Sylvester exuded on the norm.

He almost looked ready to tear the other person in the room apart: ears pinned close to the skull, blending into his long-since grayed hair, his pose resembling that of feral animal, with how he was hunched ever so slightly, his shoulders tense, eyes focused only on the target of his fury.

Even from his spot across the room, Butcher could hear the breathing, no, panting, and the way it resembled that of the growls of a feral animal instead.

"Well?" Sylvester demanded an answer, staring up, baring his teeth in the process. Teeth, that were sharp enough to draw blood. And a lot of it. Unsatisfied with the continued silence, he raised his voice further: "Speak when spoken to, god damn it!"

Butcher ignored how tense the kids in the room got, and how his own husband quickly herded them away from the kitchen-living room space, cutting the dinner talk short.

Thinking quickly, the gangster excused himself to quote-unquote "go out for a quick smoke," silently thankful that the household had grown used to his frequent cigarette breaks. In reality, they all knew it was so he remain close by and could intervene if the situation demanded it.

Pushing past the man, he finally saw the poor soul on the other side of the door, who was unfortunate enough to light such a fire in him.

Butcher is not proud of the way his own fist balled, as if ready to throw the first punch.

The woman at the door paled slightly, her confident facade crumbling near-instantly.

To everyone's surprise, Sylvester's arm stretched out to block Butcher. He looked up at him over his shoulder, as he spoke: "If you need to, go trough the back door. I'm busy."

Sylvester's tone of voice left no room for arguments. Accepting his fate, the taller man stepped back inside, closing and locking the door after him, to the dismay of the other men, who were watching the situation.

"Hey, hold on, what are you doing? What if-"

"He's got it handled. That's just a pest. A fucking annoying, shameless goddamn pest," he interrupted, and leaned against the door with a soft thud, effectively blocking both Vikram and Ashok's attempts to unlock the door.

"He's got it handled," Butcher continued, "Keep the kids away from the windows. Sure as hell won't be pretty."

"Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vikram asked, his paranoia spiking, not wanting to leave his husband out and alone with someone he could only assume to be a threat.

"Mean's he's got a shit ton of pent up emotions to get out. Let him, I wanna hear it," Butcher grins, purposefully being vague.

Truth be told, the person on the other side of the door was someone both Butcher and Sylvester knew unfortunately well. That much is evident by how loud the man got, his voice getting trough, despite the door.

To them, it was muffled, but the woman, Līva, heard everything loud and clear.

"Are you going to fucking speak or not?! I don't have all day!"

"Why is he here?"

"None of your goddamn business. And I asked you that question first, sweetheart, so spill it!" the petname was coated in so much venom and hatred that it could almost kill. Almost.

"Well, honey," she finally bit back, but the confidence she tried to put on was barely reaching her eyes, and the slight waver in her voice was instantly caught by him, "I am... just here for a little visit, is all. Am I not allowed to visit my darling dear daughter?" she smiled, but it quickly became a grimace at the scoff that escaped the man.

"Daughter? Daughter?! Are you fucking hearing yourself, woman?!"

Behind the door, Butcher's smirk widened, while the other two men shared concerned glances at each other. The window was ever so slightly cracked open, so they heard everything loud and clear.

"You barely have a fucking right to call yourself that! Not after you disfigured her, not after you left her, not after you left us!"

Vikram's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and he turned to Butcher: "Who is he talking to?"

"A certain, lousy ex wife of his."

There was no time for more questions, as Līva spoke again, faking being indignant.

"What, me? Leave? No, honey, never-"

"Shut up.. Just shut the fuck up! You left me, went off and screwed some bloody Frenchman, and lord knows it's a bloody damn miracle he saw you for anything more than the gold digger you so clearly are! You not only broke my heart, but his one too! And then you have the audacity to pretend Mary's mine! The amount of lies you can spin would be impressive, if it wasn't for the fact it pisses me the fuck off!"

Each word got faster and faster, his temper rising rapidly, ready to blow over at any given second.

The woman paled, unaware how much the man before her knew, before trying to mend the situation, eyes looking around wildly as she stammered.

"U-Uhm, you see- w-well! Remember how you promised you'd b-be there for me? No matter what-"

"That was only true before you dumped divorce papers on me and before you ran off to lead poor Martin on." Sylvester dismissed her near-instantly. "Just... tell me why you're here. So this can be done with, why don't you?"

"Ah, yes, yes, right away, honeydew. I need money. You're still in debt to me, remember, cutie? Nothing personal, but I'm here to collect-"

It was now when the door swung open, with Butcher having decided Sylvester's let out enough steam.

The woman gulped when she saw him once more, aware that her so-called "master plan" is about to be lit ablaze.

"Collecting money, eh?" he asked, gently guiding Sylvester back inside, where Vikram gladly took him away, comforting the man who's voice has now turned hoarse, and the adrenaline leaving his veins making him a bit more sluggish than usual.

"Y'know... It's one thing to lie, and it's another thing entirely to make up a situation... Shame that you're piss poor at lying though," he commented, clearly using his intimidation factor to freeze her in place, as he finally lit that cigarette.

Līva was frozen. It was a pity Butcher could not hear her heart hammering in her chest.

"You may think you're tough shit for playing mind games with someone like him. Someone who clearly loved you and didn't want to hurt you back," he hummed, taking a long drag, as he started slowly circling around her, "But you're really just a pathetic excuse for human scum. I don't even think it'd be fun to kill you. Would feel more like pest control, than a satisfying kill."

"Though," He spoke after exhaling the smoke right into her face, making her cough and rub her eyes instinctively, "I guess I could make it more... exciting~"

The way he spoke was absolutely perverted, and Līva was absolutely sure he was getting off on her unease, her blatant fear of her better (or worse, in this case) version. She never imagined he'd be here too. Never in a million years.

Before she could mourn the world in which she never came to this home, to her ex's house, Butcher started counting down. Ever the sadistic freak.

"Five... Four..."

She made out the slight glimpse of his brass knuckles fit snug on his fingers, as he leisurely reached for his holstered gun.

'Jesus fucking Christ, since when did he have that?!' she thought.

"Three..."

Locking in her fate, she spun on her heel, and ran to her car.

The last glimpse she saw of him was him aiming it directly at her, as if she were now his target practice.

Satisfied at her quick departure, he holstered the pistol and kept smoking in peace. Or, what would have been peace, if his lover had not interrupted him.

There was a hint of disapproval, if not disappointment in Ashok's voice, as he leaned against the doorframe, not caring about the cigarette smoke that was being let in. "Did you have to resort to that?"

"And miss out on messing with that chick? Not a chance, dollface!"

"... I'm giving that gun to Sylvester when you come inside," he threatened lightly.

"Hah, fine by me."

"But you two are so going to tell me who that lady is! Sounded... Bad."

"That's putting it lightly, doll," Butcher chuckled, snuffing the cigarette out on the ashtray, stepping back inside to the warm home, where the smell of the dinner still persisted.

[soniadamasco]

Miri's mom: a breakdown

Warning: sexual assault, mental health related topics

I've seen a lot of opinions in the fandom about Misaki (Miri's mom), in particular discussing if she is to be considered or not a bad person. It's a very complicated topic and I think her character - with the little screen time she got until now - deserves a little more work to be understood.

Yes, she made some horrible decisions: leaving her child alone to wander in a big city, sending her to her criminal father. Yet, there are some small clues in the scene where she talks with Kazuki that I think make her a more complex character than we might think.

At the beginning, we see her slapping Kazuki for hitting her boyfriend, even thought he was just trying to save her from abuse:

But, right after, she offers to treat him, in a very tired tone. This tells me that at least she recognises Kazuki is not the one at fault and deserves to be helped. Her very emotional reaction from before might also be a clue that she's very attached to what she considers "hers".

When we return to the scene, we see her sitting down and talking with Kazuki, telling him how she never wanted to have Miri. She also explicitly says that she was taken advantage of, possibly experiencing sexual assault.

The lack of compensation could also mean that she was at the time a sex worker and, considering the environment she lives in, I have my doubts it was consensual. Maybe she was forced through abuse, or maybe she had to do it to survive. After all, when she "jokes" about Miri being a "cheap date" for liking her store-bought hamburgers, she shows a strange attachment to money, which might as well derive from a life of financial struggles.

All of this to say that I think there is something connecting Misaki's answers and the things they allude to: a lack of control in her life.

She couldn't control her body when she was assaulted by Miri's father, as well as during the whole time she was pregnant with Miri (I suggest reading this post before commenting on her options about terminating the pregnancy). She can't seem to control how other people affect her life, especially the men who constantly abuse her:

That's why I think she got upset at Kazuki when he hit her boyfriend: because he touched something that she feels belongs to her. Living a life where you feel you have no control, you get attached to the few things that you can keep close to you, even those who hurt you. Those attachments, for how toxic they can be, make you feel like there's a slight hope to survive when everything else seems to be crumbling down.

The other reason why she gets upset at Kazuki is because he judges her for not having a "maternal instinct":

Look, we all love our sunshine boy, but I believe she's in the right here. Kazuki is an orphan, who never experienced what a parent is from a child's perspective, and a man whose child died before being born. He's talking from and idealistic point of view, thinking about the families he dreamed of having but never got. For how much it hurts, he doesn't know what it's like being a parent, especially the hardest parts of it, the ones which badly affect your mental health.

Still, he strongly judges her, and it's not a good thing to do even if he's thinking about Miri's well being. Misaki, who has no control over her life, probably sees Kazuki's judgement as another person trying to take control over her, this time over her own worth as a human.

I've said this in another post, but there's another sentence with gives me the most insight on her character:

I think we focus too much on what this sentence means for Kazuki and too little about what it tells us about Misaki's past. This is not a sentence you would say lightly, this is a sentence that comes from experience. I think there is more trauma in Misaki's life than we might think, probably even relating to her own family.

It could very well be that this feeling of lacking control over her life comes from her childhood, or at least a time when she was younger and still developing. It also tells us that she sees the concept of family as something to be wary of, not something that should bring happiness.

As someone who probably didn't have a good experience with her family, I think Misaki sees Miri's existence as another thing that is controlling her life. More than that, something brought by someone else's belief they had the right to decide what to do with her future. It hurts to say, but I think it would be very difficult for her to ever see Miri as something different than another chain.

When you feel like you have no control over your life, you might do the worst things - to yourself, to others - just to feel like for once you're the one who makes the decision. Does that make Misaki less of a bad person? I cannot answer that question, but I can understand how much she's hurting. More than anything else, she reminds us how vulnerable we can be in our lives.

[igglemouse]

Episode 1 ~ Temptations

I was starting to worry that this man wasn't that into me. That perhaps he had approached me just for his own amusement or something. That maybe he was out of my league. The thought alone was crazy, I was the prize, always the prize, but maybe here in this bigger pond things are different? A man with his wealth probably has no issues dating models and other women who think they are the prettiest thing in the world but then I realized that his eyes kept drifting to my titties and then getting stuck right there. It was a little awkward and I’m not sure how I didn’t pick up on it early, perhaps it was intoxicating cologne putting me in a spell? So yeah, he wants a certain something from me then.

"So Araceli, I'm an upfront man who can't afford to waste time and so I figured I'd ask if you want to come over?"

"No," my reply is automatic. I regret it the moment it pops from my lips and am already stammering out my excuse. "I-It's just getting late and I do need to get home." It's also partly true, we've been here chatting for a while. Besides, I know what he wants from me tonight, now that I'm over the shellshock of some likely simmillionaire being interested in me I decide its better to deny him. I'm interested in him, truthfully, but I won't be his one night stand, his conquest to brag about his co-workers with. Just another model he's likely banged and moved on from. That won't be me.

"I understand, truly I do, a woman has to be careful, after all," he says in that deep silky smooth voice of his. It almost makes me change my mind there on the spot. ‘Yes papi take me home and do whatever you want with me’ almost slipped from my lips but I do have some self control, I promise. Besides, I hear rich men aren't as good in bed? Something something compensating something something. That's what I've heard, at least. "May I at least have your number then? You can lose someone easily in a town this big and I’d hate to lose you."

"Yes, of course.” 

I guess we’ll see if he moves on or if he’s really down for the chase. 

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