#or just power over/'ownership' of someone.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[legalmente-loca]

OKAY COULD YOU DO #1 WITH SOLDIER BOY BUT WITH LIKE A LOT SMUT..?? ALSO CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERSSSSS

Christmas At Vought

Prompts: You dressing like a cowgirl

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You and Ben have a relationship in the shadows, even if he doesn't agree with it. Will he be able to resist you in disguise at Christmas?

Word Count: 1,623

A/N: Oh, darling, I couldn't just make a drabble of this

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, cowgirl inverted, dirty talk, language

You and Ben had a complicated relationship. In fact, according to everyone else, you didn't have any kind of relationship other than professional. You hid your relationship knowing that Vought wouldn't approve. After all, he was with Crimson Countess for popularity reasons. But you didn't have powers. You worked at Vought as the director's secretary and interacted with superheroes, but what would the fans of the first hero think when they saw that he were dating someone inferior to him?

So the two of you had a discreet relationship, in the shadows. Whenever you could (and even when you couldn't) you would sneak out to mess up your hair and clothes.

But it wasn't enough for Ben. Ben wanted to show ownership over you, to place his hand on your ass so that others knew you belonged to him and kiss you whenever he wanted, without worrying about who was watching.

But that was how things had to be.

It was normal for Vought to have parties every month, each with a different theme. This time, for Christmas, Vought had decided to have them dress up as a bygone era, so you didn’t think twice.

You had dressed up as a cowgirl, a checkered shirt with ripped jean shorts and a belt that held a fake gun. You also wore a cowboy hat.

“Well, look who came as a sexy cowgirl.”

You recognized the voice and turned to look at him. Obviously the great Soldier Boy would come as he wanted without respecting the theme. He simply came in his hero uniform, helmet included.

“Soldier Boy-”

“You know you can call me Ben, gorgeous.” He smiled charmingly and walked over to you, looking you up and down openly.

You sighed and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Ben, you know they can’t see us in public.”

“And you think I care about that?” He moved closer to you and pretended to look around as he whispered in your ear. “I could touch your entire body dressed in that tight outfit and I still wouldn’t fuckin’ care.”

You cleared your throat and turned to look at him.

“You need to control yourself, don’t make a scene.” You murmured.

“But you know I love to make them.”

He ran a finger down your arm, his body radiating heat and burning your skin.

“Ben…”

“Honey…”

You sighed and glanced around. It was a difficult task to resist Ben.

“Listen, later we’ll do whatever you want, but for now, let’s stay away from each other.”

He growled and placed his hand on your lower back possessively.

“I want you now.”

“Well you won’t have me.”

“Who fucking says?”

“Me.”

You pushed him away and started walking, knowing Ben was watching your every step.

An hour passed. Conversations surrounded you and the sound of Christmas carols was low. The whole place was well decorated, well, you had been a part of decorating. And Ben had often come to “help” you.

You had passed him a few times, but he didn’t even look at you. Maybe that was your punishment or maybe he had decided to listen to you for the first time (it was probably the first one).

You were chatting with some other people when he came in, drink in hand.

“Hey, folks.” He said as he patted your coworker on the shoulder, almost knocking his arm out of place.

“S-soldier Boy.”

It was very common for people to turn to look at him whenever he walked into a room. The attention was only on him and everyone wanted to get close to him if he was in a good mood. If he wasn’t, no one wanted to be around.

“Having a good time?” He asked with a smile.

“Very good, sir.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

The conversation continued, your coworkers clearly pleased to be talking to America’s great hero. But at one point, Ben stepped forward and tripped, the contents of his drink falling on your shirt. You gasped and looked at him in annoyance.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, doll.” He grabbed your own cup and quickly passed it to one of your companions before grabbing your arm, not giving you two seconds to think that he was already pulling you away. “Come, I’ll help you get all cleaned up.”

He led you to the bathrooms and immediately pinned you against the door as he took off his helmet and threw it across the room.

“Ben!”

“I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore, talking to other people like you don’t want me to fuck you right there.”

His movements were quick and unexpected (in part). He grabbed your breasts through your clothes and squeezed them, making you moan and arch your back.

But he didn’t even have time to look at you naked. He needed you right now.

He grabbed your arm again and dragged you to the bathroom sinks, sitting on the counter and placing you on his lap with your back to him.

“Since you’re dressed like a cowgirl whore, act like one.” He undid your belt and pulled down your shorts along with your panties and pressed his mouth against the side of your neck. “All this time, watching you like this, imagining you riding me until your thighs ached.”

He grabbed your legs and had your feet placed on top of his knees. He moved his hand to your pussy and began to caress your folds.

“God, Ben...”

He kept moving his fingers, teasing your hole before slipping one in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, cowgirl. But it’s not time to take pleasure, it’s time to fucking give it.” He pulled off the bottom of his suit, his cock springing out, big and wet at the tip. “Now, ride me like it’s your fuckin’ job.”

He helped you up slightly, placing his hands on your ass, helping you down afterwards. Your eyes rolled as you felt his cock enter your pussy, your toes curling in pleasure.

“You like this big cock, cowgirl?” He murmured against your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. “C’mon, get started.” He growled, slapping your clit.

Your hips rocked and you felt more fluid between your legs. The position you were in only caused your insides to stretch further.

You began to move up and down, your hands resting on him to help you.

“Feel so good, Ben.” You let out a sigh.

“I know.” You rolled your eyes at his arrogance, but continued with your movements. “Are you a good cowgirl, babe? Can you ride a good, big horse like me?”

His gaze was locked on the globes of your ass, one hand squeezing your flesh. Your juices were running down his cock and you began to feel your orgasm approaching, leading you to move faster on him.

You heard a countdown in the distance.

“Fuck, it’s almost Christmas and I’ve got a cowgirl on me.” He slapped your ass and you gasped.

“Y-you’re so filthy... I’d rather you kept your mouth shut.”

“Oh, yeah?” He held your jaw, turning your face to look at him. “You love it when I talk dirty to you. And the fact that you’re moving like a sex addict fucking proves it.”

The countdown was at five and you kept your gaze on him. You didn’t even move your gaze or close your eyes when his fingers began to play with your clit roughly. Your legs threatened to close, but due to the position you were in that wasn’t possible. And it was there, the moment the countdown hit zero, that you came. Your insides tightened around him as a wave of pleasure flooded your body and your juices wet Ben’s cock even more. For his part, he brought his mouth to yours and kissed you fiercely as his cum shot out inside you.

“Merry fucking Christmas.” He snorted after a few seconds.

“Same here.” Your breathing was ragged and slowly returning to normal as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“You know what? If I knew this was my Christmas present, I would have wrapped you up and put a fucking bow over your pussy and a cowgirl hat on your head.”

“Oh, God…” You rolled your eyes and lifted your head. “Gross.”

“What? You know you’d love it if I tied you up in Christmas lights like a fucking Christmas tree and spread my cum all over your face.”

“Enough of this dirty talk.” You said as you stood up as best you could and climbed off of him, your legs shaking as soon as your feet hit the ground.

He snorted and stood up, putting his suit back in place as he gave you a look up and down.

“What?” You asked as you noticed his gaze.

“Oh, nothing, I just would love to see you even more in that costume, even with the stain.”

“Well, maybe I will do it for New Years. But only if you’re a good boy.” You pointed at him.

He frowned and slapped your hand, moving closer to you.

“I’ll be a bad man who will give a pretty cowgirl a good beating if she doesn’t do what he says.” He muttered close to your face.

You bit your bottom lip and tilted your head.

“Alright…”

He smirked and slapped your ass before bending down to pull your shorts back into place. You felt Ben’s cum spread across your shorts and you shifted uncomfortably. He stood up straight and patted your cheek.

“Good girl.”

He left a kiss on your cheek which he smacked before exiting the bathroom.

“This costume won't last.” You muttered before rearranging your mind and clothes and exiting the bathroom as well.

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[fantastic-mr-corvid]

i find the genre of 'name a platonic female friend your oc has' posts really funny for Celia and Co because like the Point is that living up to violent and masculine ideals is isolating and pits women [& trans ppl & queer ppl] against each other in a way where only one or two of them can 'succeed' and they are constantly trying to tear each other down. Bc yes my ocs are failing the test but there's a reason why and it was an active choice on may part.

[thelovesofmyentirelife]

.

[misswynters]

Headcanons: Sevika as your partner

Sevika as your lovely partner (lesbian wife)

warnings: nsfw themes below the banner, fluff

She will 100% be loyal to only you and take care of you.

Sevika has a soft side that she only shows around you. She’ll deny it if anyone else mentions it, but you catch her looking at you with a gentle, almost protective gaze. She’s not always good with words, but her actions (ex. making sure you’re comfortable) speak louder.

Sevika’s naturally protective and will go out of her way to take care of you in small, endearing ways. She’ll remind you to drink water, make sure you’re eating enough, and will even get a bit grumpy if you neglect yourself.

Behind closed doors, Sevika loves it when you lean into her or snuggle up on her shoulder. She’ll casually drape an arm around you while watching something together, or pull you onto her lap when you’re alone. The moment anyone else is around, though, she’s back to her gruff self.

After a long day, Sevika loves just lying in bed with you, talking about anything and everything. She rarely opens up, but at night, she’s more vulnerable and lets you in on her thoughts and memories of growing up in the Undercity. Those quiet moments are when she’s the softest and most open.

Sevika has learned a few recipes over the years and will occasionally surprise you by cooking a simple but delicious meal. She loves watching your face light up when you taste her food, and even though she’d act nonchalant, it clearly makes her happy to see you appreciate her cooking.

Sevika has a secret stash of pet names just for you, like “sweetheart” or “love.” Her voice goes a little softer when she calls you by them, and she usually tries to keep them reserved for quiet, intimate moments. But you’ve caught her murmuring them under her breath more often than she realizes.

She tries to keep up her tough exterior, but sometimes you catch her doing little things like gently brushing a stray hair from your face or adjusting your clothes to keep you warm. When you point it out, she just grunts and tries to change the subject, but it’s clear she’s letting her guard down with you.

Sevika gives you these soft, almost awed looks when she thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s as if she can’t believe someone as sweet and kind as you has a place in her life, and she’s quietly grateful for it.

Sevika knows how to take charge, and she’s not shy about it. Whether she’s guiding you with a firm hand or whispering orders into your ear, she makes it clear that she’s in control. She loves seeing you respond to her authority and takes pride in knowing you trust her to lead.

She doesn’t flaunt it, but Sevika can be a little possessive. She’ll wrap an arm around you in crowded places, keeping others at bay with a glare. When she’s with you, she makes sure everyone knows you’re hers without saying a word. There’s something reassuring and thrilling about her subtle displays of ownership.

Sevika exudes a quiet confidence that makes you feel safe and wanted. She’s incredibly attentive, learning every little thing that makes you melt and using it to her advantage. She’s slow and thorough, making sure you feel every touch, every kiss, knowing exactly how to leave you breathless.

Sevika loves taking her time. She knows exactly how to make you flustered with lingering touches and meaningful glances, enjoying every little reaction. Whether it’s a hand on your lower back or a low whisper in your ear, she’s a master of the slow burn, watching your anticipation build until you’re practically begging for her attention.

Her voice drops an octave when she’s in a dominant mood, each word wrapped in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. She knows the effect it has on you, and she’ll use it to her advantage, murmuring softly but firmly as she takes her time with you, savoring every moment.

Sevika may be strong and powerful, but she’s also incredibly careful with you. She holds you with a gentle firmness that makes you feel secure, as if she could shield you from the world. Her hands move with precision, every touch deliberate, giving you the perfect balance between strength and tenderness.

Sevika is unafraid to give you all her attention. She watches your reactions as you take her, focusing on what you need, and isn’t satisfied until she’s sure she’s left you thoroughly happy and exhausted. It’s an intense, almost possessive attention that makes you feel cherished and adored in a way that leaves you craving her touch.

Oh! also she has a playful side to her dominance, often teasing you just to see how much you’ll blush or squirm. She loves making you flustered with a smirk, reveling in the way you react to her touch or voice. It’s her way of showing her affection and keeping things light-hearted even when she’s completely in control.

Like in my previous writing, she’s into biting! it don’t matter where you bite her. on her shoulder, hand, etc. SHE WILL ENJOY IT!! (trust me!)

Her favorite positions (with strap) would be the mating press and missionary. If it’s a quickie then i’d say standing up. AND 69. can’t forget about that. She be eating you out more than you would. Absolutely wild

Using a hexcore strap whenever she wants to, though there could be an occasional switch where she would ask you to use it on her. Especially when she’s feeling lazy.

taglist: @444fernz @kylorey25 @prentisslove @lilfroggyy @kissyslut @ab2ysw1fe @xxblairslairxx @cestlaprincesa

banner: @cafekitsune

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Everyday homeowners are human shields for Wall Street’s Internet of Shit slumlords

The American Dream, such as it is, used to be two dreams, one based on work and solidarity, the other on asset appreciation and disconnected individualism. We killed the first one.

As the New Deal gave way to the post-war social safety net, Americans discovered two paths to social mobility: they could join a union, and they could buy a home. Joining a union meant that your wages would rise with productivity, and that the democratic ideal that you were meant to approach once every two years at the ballot-box could follow you into the building you spent more waking hours in than any other: your jobsite.

Labor unions used their political power to win labor rights, so that even workers who weren't a union couldn't be arbitrarily fired, or maimed on the job with impunity, or harassed or abused. And while the labor movement was mired in the same racist legacy that every American institution brought forward out of genocide and slavery, where racialized people started unions of their own or demanded representation from the unions who nominally represented them, they thrived.

Then there were houses. On the one hand, owning your home insulated you from the petty tyranny of the landlord, the threat of eviction, rent hikes, indifferent or dangerous building maintenance, and all the other miseries that arise when you think of a building as your home and someone else thinks of it as an asset, and the board is tilted so that they win every argument.

But homeownership wasn't just sold as a way to get out from under scumbag landlords: it was primarily sold as a way to build intergenerational wealth. Your house wasn't just a place to live: it was an asset, and it appreciated.

And if the dividends of labor protection were unevenly distributed between white people and racial minorities, the dividends of home ownership were almost entirely hoarded by white families. Federal policies – redlining – combined with racist lending at the local level, meant that Black families and other racialized groups were stuck in tenancy, while white families build wealth thanks to federal subsidies:

https://web.archive.org/web/20170220005558/https://www.demos.org/sites/default/files/publications/Asset%20Value%20of%20Whiteness.pdf

Those were the two American dreams: a good job and your own home. We killed the first one, and the second one devoured us whole.

Without a strong labor movement, wages stagnated. Corporate power waxed, and with it, the power to pollute, to poison, to maim and to defraud. The labor movement wasn't strong enough to stop Reagan from killing free UC tuition when he was governor of California. It wasn't strong enough to hold back spiraling health care prices. It wasn't strong enough to block the business lobby from neutering antitrust and ushering in four decades of market concentration, market capture and corruption. Workers couldn't save their defined benefits pension and were railroaded into market-based 401(k)s, forcing them to play the stock casino against their bosses, ever the sucker at the poker table.

With stagnant wages and out of control medical, educational and end-of-life bills, homeownership – the thing you do as an individual, where your gain is someone else's loss – became the American secular religion. Your house wasn't just a place to sleep and keep your photo albums: if it appreciated enough, you might be able to liquidate it on your deathbed and pay off your eldercare, your healthcare, your kids' college debt, and leave enough left over for your kids' downpayments.

And so every American who had a home became the enemy of every American who didn't – including one another's children. Every home built threatened your own property values. The racist, batshit American school funding formula, which sees schools funded out of property taxes, meaning the richest kids get the best schools, turned out to be a great way to increase your property values.

Protections for tenants, meanwhile, threatened the entire American way of life – the American dream itself. Every protection a tenant got – protection from eviction or rent hikes, the legal right to a safe and well-maintained home – reduced the value of every home in town.

After all, the better a landlord has to treat their tenants, the less money a landlord can make from a rental property. The less money a landlord can make from a rental property, the less they'd bid on a house like yours if it went up for sale.

And since anyone planning to buy your house to live in it has to outbid a landlord who might want to rent it out, giving tenants any protection threatened everything – the one asset you owned, which was your plan a, b and c for paying off all that health, education, and assisted living debt:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Today, the house-as-asset scam is breathing its last. There are millions more people who need homes than there are homes available. Sure, homelessness is a fantastically complex problem, but you could address every aspect of it – addiction, mental illness, joblessness – and millions of people would still be homeless, because there aren't enough homes for them to live in:

https://headgum.com/factually-with-adam-conover/myths-about-homeless-people-with-dr-margot-kushel

70% of all inflation in 2024 came from the cost of housing; a quarter of that came from illegal collusive behavior by landlords to hike rents:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/up-to-a-quarter-of-rental-inflation

Wall Street landlords have raised gigantic war-chests and are buying up homes at a rate never before seen, converting every available single-family home in many cities from an owner-occupied home to a rental. Private equity and hedge fund landlords have elevated charging junk fees to an absurdist theater project: you pay a "convenience" charge for paying your rent in cash. But also for paying your rent by direct transfer. Oh, and also for paying in cash. When Wall Street is your landlord, your home is a slum, dangerously undermaintained, sometimes lethally so:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Capitalists hate capitalism. The best thing to sell is something your customer can't live without, and that no one else has for sale. That's why "the market" loves private prisons so much:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

The vast sums Wall Street is putting into buying up all of America's available housing stock is a bet that they can establish regional monopolies over having a home, and charge all the market can bear.

That's the plan at Invitation Homes, a company that was just targeted by the FTC for a slate of eye-watering crimes against the tenants in the 80,000 single-family homes they've acquired:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/09/ftc-takes-action-against-invitation-homes-deceiving-renters-charging-junk-fees-withholding-security

Invitation Homes purchases homes as they come on the market, and they're also a leading customer of the "build-to-rent" housing industry, a fast-growing segment of new housing starts.

Writing about the FTC's enforcement action against Invitation Homes, Matt Soller brings in Starwood Capital Group, who manage Invitation Homes properties, and own 14,000 more homes in the sunbelt. Invitation and Starwood hate the anti-monopoly movement, and Barry Sternlicht, Starwood's billionaire CEO, really hates FTC Chair Lina Khan:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/monopoly-round-up-corporate-slumlords

The FTC complaint lays out a suite of just comically sleazy things ways that Invitation abuses its tenants, starting with false advertising. The company lists its houses at relatively low rents, then charges a large fee to apply to live there. When you pass the application process, you're told the rent is actually much higher, and if you walk away from the deal, you forfeit your application fee. That scam's netted Invitation $18m since 2019.

Stoller really hates junk fees, calling them "convenience fees without any convenience, service charges without any service performed." He lays out Invitation's long list of junk fees, which honestly sound like a list that Chatgpt would spit out if you prompted it for fifty junk fees that wouldn't pass the giggle-test: "utility management fees" "Lease Easy bundle fees," "air filter delivery fee," "smart home technology fees," etc etc.

"Smart home technology fee?" Yeah, Invitation's gone in hard for Internet of Shit smart home tech. The SVP who oversees Invitation's smart home fee program was ordered to "juice this hog" (you guys, juice doesn't come from hogs).

After decades of recruiting everyday American homeowners to demand anti-tenant policies that benefit giant corporations, American tenants have few rights on paper and even fewer in practice. That's left the door wide open for Invitation to abuse their tenants in a myriad of dismal and unimaginative ways: stealing their deposits, trashing their credit reports to retaliate against complaints, illegal evictions, busted appliances, mold, vermin, insects – the whole slumlord playbook.

As Stoller writes, there's a twist: "this landlord isn’t just a random slumlord, it’s one of the biggest Wall Street players in housing."

There are vast fortunes to be made in converting the human right to housing into an asset class, but those fortunes end up in the hands of a very small number of billionaires. On their own, they wouldn't have the political power to dismantle protections for tenants.

Realistically speaking, most kids who grew up in their parents' owner-occupied homes are going to end up tenants, thanks to undersupply and housing inflation. But those kids' parents have spent decades demanding policies to make their homes as valuable as possible – including mortgage tax breaks (but not rent tax breaks!), looser eviction laws, and less enforcement of what few protections tenants have.

Middle class homeowners are the useful idiots and human shields of the billionaires who are determined to force every American under 40 raise their kids in a rented slum full of spiders, ratshit and black mold, which will still cost 60% of their take-home salary.

That's why the FTC's action against Invitation Homes is such a big deal. And as Stoller points out, Chair Khan is really just implementing Kamala Harris's campaign promise to get Wall Street out of the landlord business.

Wall Street's raid on your bedroom and kitchen has inspired a generation of "finfluencer" copycats who buy and flip apartment buildings, sucking ever-larger amounts of cash out of them until they're unfit for human habitation, with mountains of rat-infested garbage ringing their crumbling walls:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/22/koteswar-jay-gajavelli/#if-you-ever-go-to-houston

Any future worth living in is going to get housing right. We need to stop thinking of housing as an asset and realize that it is, first and foremost, a human right. That's the premise of my 2023 solarpunk novel The Lost Cause, which just came out in paperback:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865946/thelostcause

You can't protect yourself from rising seas or rising healthcare bills through individual home-ownership. Solidarity – the kind of solidarity that once powered the union movement, and that is powering it again – is the only way to defeat the housing profiteers. The New Deal wasn't perfect, which is why whatever we do next has to be bigger, further reaching, and more inclusive than what FDR did almost a century ago.

The only minority that should be excluded from the next New Deal is billionaires.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/01/housing-is-a-human-right/#rentier-tech

Image: Sam Valadi (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/132084522@N05/17086570218/

Carlos Delgado (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wall_Street_-_New_York_Stock_Exchange.jpg

CC BY 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[bunny-jpeg]

toto the terror

toto wolff

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, spanking/punishments, team prinicpal!toto, age gap (20s/50s), teasing, dirty talk/degrading language, rough sex, mean!toto, collars, dom/sub behaviors, power dynamic, kinky

a/n: like the fic? suggest your own! really like the fic, leave a comment!

you should've known what was coming next when you saw you results of the weekend. you got p16, you were basically in last. and you boss didn't like being at the bottom of the grid. he paid you a lot of money to win, so do to so horribly was unacceptable. toto wouldn't allow this.

when you got yo your hotel room with your metaphorical tail between your legs. you saw a familiar box on your bed. made of sturdy wood with the mercedes logo painted on the top. as much as you belonged to the team.

you belonged to toto even more.

you swallowed as you opened the box. you gazed inside its padded interior. a black leather collar with a gold tag glared back at you. you expected it to be there just as you expected to be punished for the infraction of the weekend. you'd have to learn for the next race.

toto was an interesting man. he could be so stoic, but also abrasively passionate. his anger could be felt through any room if someone caught him in the wrong mood. and while the anger was something to avoid, especially in the tension of racing. there was nothing worse than the silent disappointment. there was a tension in the air of his own room as you knelt in front of him while he fastened the collar around your throat.

despite it being an act of punishment, this was also an act of trust.

"i'm sorry, sir."

"apologies won't save you now. if you were truly sorry you would've done better this weekend." his tone was flat while he tugged on the collar to make sure that it was securely on you.

you whined and toto patted your head, you tried to go for the belt around his waist but he stopped you. you looked up at him with a sad expression and he laughed.

"the puppy dog eyes won't work on me, you know that." he said sternly, "not tonight. you need to learn and i'm afraid i have been lacking in my lessons with you."

you whined when he patted your cheek with a little more force than normal. he'd never hit you with a closed fist, but he'd leave another pair of cheeks bruised. you swallowed then said, "please."

"no." he said lowly as he got you across his lap. there wasn't a stitch on you except for the collar around your throat. a symbol of toto's ownership over you. he squeezed the roundness of one of your ass cheeks and you moaned. he gave it a rough rub before he laid a smack across the skin.

your back arched as you hissed through your teeth. you held onto a pillow on the couch . your jaw tensed when he laid another smack across your skin. it made you buck against him.

"don't make me pin you down, slut. you know i will tie you up like a hog and tease you until you cry." his words were a promise as he continued to land smacks across your ass.

his hand covered a lot of surface across your skin. you hissed when three more slaps cam down. but he kept you down against him.

you weren't going anywhere toto didn't want you to go.

"you are so useless to me. useless on the track. i can't believe they allowed you get a license. you don't belong anywhere near a car or a track, my little failure of a driver." his voice was tense and it made your bottom lip wobble. he laid down more smacks across your behind. you knew it would be purple come morning.

maybe being unable to sit properly for a while would do you some good. maybe the sting of it would linger until you won another championship.

he grasped your cheek once more and the pain made your toes curl. he heard your groan and it made him chuckle. your curse words in your first language made him laugh.

"you'll behave now? you'll finally understand how much i've invested in you. you are my most expensive purchase. and i expect returns. either with your wins or your body."

you swallowed before you said meekly, "i'm sorry, sir. i won't fail you again." your hips rolled when you felt another painful smack.

when he was finished giving you your punishment, he pushed you onto the carpeted floor of the hotel room. you fumbled and whined when you got carpet burn on your knees from the impact.

"don't cry over that. i've done worse to you than a little carpet burn and you moaned." he said as he took off his branded button up and got his cock out of his slacks. he remained mostly clothed in a white undershirt in his slacks. no need for a messy girl like you to ruin his work shit. (someone had to work around here).

toto wolff was a man who loved control. while he usually kept his drivers on a loose leash, not you. he needed total control over you. he needed you on a leash that nearly choked you.

so when he kept you on the floor by the couch, your knees bruised like your ass. you felt the heat in your core. you felt the fire in your gut from the power he held over you.

he rubbed his cock up against you. he briefly teased your cunt before he sank himself into you. you tried to find support from something, but the rough carpet just hurt your fingers while your boss fucked you. "you're no good. only good with your mouth. maybe if you didn't run it so much for the press, you could actually use it for it's real purpose. getting me off. being my stress relief. you being in a car is a mercy i could take away. you're a seat warmer when you should be my bed warmer."

it made your toes curl. his words burned in your brain and you heavily panted against the rough carpet. your heart raced as he had you almost bouncing on his cock.

"you need to learn to behave, you need to learn to win. you need to be the best. if you're not the best, then you're nothing to me." he groaned.

the movements were rough and you felt the pleasure between you two. your short nails dug into the carpet, unable to grab leverage of anything. you were at the mercy of your lover.

your boss.

the movement continued and you felt all rationality leave your head. there was little left in terms of thoughts as toto made sure to push you further into the carpet. he pressed your head into the carpet. he shifted his knees to go at a quicker pace. he noticed the shake of your ass with each heavy movement. he curled over you as he hit against the right areas.

"please sir, i'll win the next one. i'll win all of them!" yur back arched. you felt the rush in your system. your head felt a buz while he remained balls deep inside of you.

"promises, promises." he grunted.

you were at your lover's mercy. you were under him and it made you core swim. you eventually pressed your cheek against the carpet, you accepted the carpet burn across your skin. you were pushed further into it with each hard thrust.

you whined, "i mean it! i'll make you proud!" your bottom lip wobbled more as he continued to roughly fuck you.

he shook his head and clicked his tongue, "i hear the words, but i've yet to see the action, you know i'm a man of results."

you knew that, you knew that painfully well. toto expected the best out of you. that was why he collared and spanked you. he said things that often made you ears burn

the pace was rapid and rough. he didn't stagger despite his age. he didn't pull his cock fully out, he made sure that every inch was shoved inside of you. that you were familiar with him, that you could taste him in the back of your throat due to how hard he was fucking you.

"you feel so good. taking my cock is more nature to you than driving. maybe it's time for a new career path."

"no, please sir! i want to drive I want to win it all! i want to be your champion!" your mouth hung open for a moment as you felt the inferno in your guy.

toto muttered something in german and you felt the pleasure flood your head and with a few more thrusts, you finished around him. you clawed at the carpet and arched your back. your noises were tight as you came.

toto muttered something against your heated flesh as he continued. he fucked you roughly against the carpet, he left you needy. he left you wanting more. you were greedy for him. he let himself fully take you, he heated noises grew before he slammed his cock as deep as it would go as he finished inside of you.

you panted heavily as you tried to come back to reality. toto came out and admired his work as he got his sticky cock back into his slacks. your bruised behind with cum dripped out of you achy cunt. he rubbed you behind and you whimpered.

"now, you'll be good, right? next week will be better?"

you croaked, "yes, sir."

-

"you've done it! first place yours!" you heard toto's voice over the radio. you cheered as you drove the car back to the garage. you beyond happy, this put you back in the league to get the wdc.

"let's go! let's go!" you cheered.

"careful now." toto said, "remember the rules. don't want community service after your win!"

you laughed, "of course, sir, of course!" you couldn't contain yourself. you believed this was the start of a winning streak. toto gave you a good luck charm before the race. his cum inside of your slick pussy after he fucked you in the driver's room. you believed that your boss' training would make you a true winner. <3

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 23: Breeding

Summary: Alastor hates October, postively abhors it due to his more...animalistic inclinations. Luckily for him, you just so happen to be near by and smell divine. Warnings: P in V sex, breeding kink, ruts, possesive, ownership, marking, cum, reader has a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @kewpikayo GO CHECK THEM OUT!!! Love you my kew!

It’s the middle of October. Skeletons and cobwebs line the walls, orange and black posters of all kinds hang from balcony’s, and Charlie’s excitement over the possible bond through the upcoming holiday was unmatched. All the resident’s of the Hazbin Hotel, despite some occasional hesitence, join in on the festive spirit. Except for Alastor. Even a creature as powerful as he could not escape the cycles of instinct. Alastor found himself in an uncomfortable predicament during this supposed festive month: he was in rut, a state that left him feeling restless and agitated.

Hiding away in his lavish room, adorned with vintage radio equipment and eerie memorabilia, he tried to ignore the urge that pulled at him. His usual confidence was replaced with a sense of vulnerability, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone discovering him in such a state. This time of month had always been a chore, normally he could try to wait it out. Hiding himself away till it passes and it normally does. But not this time. His cock strained against his trousers, that familar uncomfy feeling settling in his belly. No amount of smooth, languid strokes can bring him any ease and he’s been at this for hours. 

Sweat peripherated his brow, his jacket long discarded in favor for his simple white button up, sleeves cuffed at the elbow. The world was unbearably hot. He had always relished his independence, his power over others, but now, he felt trapped within his own skin. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed something, someone to sink into. To rake his teeth over the soft supple flesh of their neck, pump his cock in and out of tight velvetly walls till he came undone and sat knotted within them till his seed took. Such thoughts flooded his mind, till he finally decided to give into his baser inclinations and hump a nearby pillow in erotic and pure desperation. 

With each press into the fabric, precum weeped from his angry tip to no avail. It was not the same, would never be the same. With each passing of an orgasm, rushed and heated, his cock only stood at more attention and ached with need. Nothing could satite the desire that filled his entire being, mind whirring with one and one thought only: breed. He wanted a mate, needed one.

A rapture of knocks at his door were the only thing that broke him from his ruminations. 

“Alastor? It’s me, Y/N. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence before Alastor’s voice filtered through the door, strained yet familiar. “One moment, my dear.”

That one sentence had sealed his whole fate, leading him to where he was presently. He had let you in, opened the door to view your bright and smiling face beaming up at him with a curious desire to help. Of course you had noticed he was missing, you always did. Following him around like a stray puppy since the begining of your stay at the hotel. At first, he had found your presence bothersome, an nusiance to his daily musings and whims. But when you had one day asked him so sweetly to show off his records and radio tower, in total awe of his power, he could not help but fall for your antics. Never failing to see some strand of good in him, every request was a command you followed though he did not own your soul. You were his to protect, to cherish, and now as you stood before him, to mate. 

You had held your hand to his brow, taking his temperature when you noticed his paled state. You smelled so sweet and his inhale was nothing short of sickening as he brought his nose to your hand. Coming kiss your palm as his own brought your hand to his lips. Oh, how soft your skin was against his chapped lips. Like fresh rose petals in spring. From that point on, he could not stop himself. Bringing his lips down your forearm, up to your shoulder, the valleys of your neck. With each kiss and nip, your body shook with shock and anticpiation. His teeth grazed the crevice of your collarbone, leaving a small mark in its wake that drove him wild. You were his, all his.

And now, here you lie. Dark marks marring your once soft and clean skin with the clearest sign of his possesiveness, his ownership. Laid bare before his hungry eyes and desires, his cock came to be inside you with one thrust; your cunt wet and ready for him like it was made for this purpose. Conceptually, rationally, by all means of logic, Alastor knew it would never work. Except, in this very moment, cock pounding into your wet and inviting cunt, he couldn’t help but pray to whatever power was listening that his seed would take. That you would grow warm and full with his child, glowing and basking in the obvious sign of his claim over you. 

Growling, his voice passed huskily through your ears. “Gonna be such a good mate for me….going to be so round and perfect full of me darling—“ Alastor’s words were not his own, his body and mind completely consumed by his arousal and need. Not that you minded, despite being confused as to where this suddent attention was coming from. You had always found Alastor attractive and now to see him so feral only added to the slick that pooled out of your puffy pussy. 

Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thrusts becoming short and sloppy as his release fast approached. Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, spilled hot ropes of cum into you. His cock head swelled into knot, the added weight and size barrelling you into your own release. Alastor then collapsed, chest pressing on top of you as his cock twitched, the amount of his release too great for your body to hold; marveling as it spilled past his member and out your greedy hole. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with pleaasure. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged you in on the bed; pushing his cum back into you as he drew himself ontop of you overstimulated body. His eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black, his signature smirk now coming to form a dark and possesive sneer. 

“Now we wait my dear…and I will wait as long as it need for it to take.”

[flokali]

Hi!! I am brainrotting and cannot get it out of my mind, so I thought to share. A very simple thought.

Accolyte Zhongli. Very willing to please et cetera. But biting him? Like come on, biting a Dragon? Is it ownership? Is it playful bite? You know, the sudden urge to bite someone (or is it just me?). So biting a very willing Zhongli.

Sobbing. This will haunt me for a while.

Slight NSF_W

Thinking so many thoughts... happy belated valentines day every1 ><

Warnings: NB! Reader, yandere!Zhongli, SAGAU, implied Dom!Reader/Sub!Zhongli, unhealthy relationship dynamics, biting, soft-violence (?), possessive behavior, jealousy, ask to tag!

Dragons in Liyue are known to be loyal, fierce, and elegant; the stories always describe them as powerful beasts who are to be respected, with sincere hearts and wisdom beyond a mere mortal’s understanding.

In a way, such behaviors did translate to your acolyte, Zhongli. He was one of your oldest followers, not just in age but time serving you, over six millenia he has existed and can proudly state he’s worshiped you for most of it. You would think that the years would have mellowed him out, polished up the edges of his devotion, soothe the tempest in his heart into a much milder dribble, and yet – you knew very few of your acolytes who could rival the passion he seemed to hold towards you.

The relationship between you and all of your followers was strange, at least to you — going from a normal person to being worshiped as a God was not an easy process, much less in a world as different from your own as Teyvat was to Earth — however none were perhaps as strange as the relationship between you and Zhongli.

He is always at your side, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. At first, his insistence on being your attendant had been met with heavy resistance from the others but his stubbornness greatly overpowered their annoyance; no matter what rotation you were in, Zhongli was always by your side.

You knew of his vessel, Morax, the large dragon that he’d used to fake his death, and you knew that “Zhongli” wasn’t his true form – you just hadn’t guessed some traits would have seeped into the other form or maybe it was simply part of his personality.

He was possessive and overprotective over you, it was like an internal struggle between submission and the need to monopolize you was constantly going on in his head, yet he refused to outwardly admit it.

“I am simply concerned for you, Your Grace.” He’d say whenever you’d bring up his overbearing nature, considering that he and the rest viewed you as an all-powerful being, you’d think he’d have more trust in your ability to protect yourself. And yet, whenever he’s allowed, he’ll always attempt to deter you from leaving his side. At some point you realized it was probably for his sake rather than your own, but by then you had grown endeared to the man and decided to allow it anyway.

Even as your most loyal follower who you spent most of your days with, Zhongli had his quirks and habits about him that simply baffled you – no matter how many days you’d spent with the former Archon, there were just things he’d do and say that’d leave you questioning all you knew about him prior.

All you really knew about him before was reduced to what had been revealed in game, from the Traveler’s perspective and the NPC’s who’d speak about him. Meeting him and interacting with him quickly let you know that his personality, at least when directed towards you, was quite different from what you had assumed from your previous observations.

An example of such discrepancies was his obsessive need to please you.

The traditional Liyue clothes you once complimented him on? Most of his wardrobe has changed to include such attires more frequently. The hair accessory you bought him once when you traveled to Fontaine? You don’t think you’ve seen him without it since. That one time you complimented him when he wore warmer tones? It seems his closet has been rid of any other color.

It was unsettling if not a bit cute, who wouldn’t be a little bit flattered to know their opinion held such weight to a man such as Morax; but it was only a matter of time before it all escalated

Somewhere, at some point, your relationship with Zhongli changed – morphing into something more complex than you would have expected. You would soon wonder if he was classified more so as a lover or some sort of concubinus than a mere helper, his role as an attendant seeming more like a guise so he could spend his time with you each day.

Fleeting touches now lasted longer, the feeling of his hot gaze on you burned stronger with every passing moment, it was a natural escalation; kisses now were no longer restrained to the hand, they now landed on your lips, your cheeks, your neck, wandering hands found their home in your waist and the small of your back.

When he told you he loved you, you knew not if he spoke as a devotee or a lover.

It was during a heated make out session that you found out his weakness to being marked and claimed, much to your surprise. He’d been quite insistent on not leaving a single mark on your person, not a hickey or bite, you guessed it must have been a preference but never asked about it either. You decided that, for the time being, you would avoid the topic until it naturally came up - and up did it come.

You had been on top of him, sitting on his lap and caressing his hair as your lips danced with one another’s, his golden eyes were shut tight in pleasure as he let you use his lips and body as you wished. His hands rested on your waist, tightly gripping at your robes and skin as he desperately clung onto your body. Soft whines left his lips periodically, his breathing was quick and you could feel his heart beating where your chests met.

You playfully decided to trail kisses across his face, at first he whined when he felt the loss of your lips on his but he soon fell quiet – other than a few moans and whimpers – as you left open mouthed kisses into his skin and down his neck.

It’s there that, in the heat of the moment, you decide to bite his neck, leaving a small hickey on his flushed skin. His reaction is immediate; his head falls backwards, his whole body heats up and you feel something stiffen below you, his face burns a bright red as a loud moan escapes his lips. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin to a point you are certain it’ll leave a mark, and his heartbeat quickens; pleasure basically radiates off of his body the minute your teeth nib at his neck.

You stop, teeth sunken into his skin and hand tangled in his hair, his reaction so lewd and surprising you become flustered and stop dead in your tracks.

Zhongli, however, only pulls you tighter into his body, using a hand to press your face deeper into his neck, as if urging you to use more force in your bite – timidly you give in and nibble into his flesh, further deepening the imprint of your teeth in his skin. His whole body feels hot to the touch, his mind feels hazy, your soft bites into his skin send shockwaves through him.

You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? Or else you wouldn’t have been so careless when picking the spot, but it doesn’t matter, in this moment of intense pleasure, the former Archon decides to give into delusion and believe you knew the meaning behind biting a draconic being such as himself — and in the neck of all places as well.

Old traditions dictate that a bite mark, especially in the jugular or neck, was a sign of ownership. It was often that mates would mark each other in the neck with enough force to leave scars, sinking sharp teeth into one another with ironic tenderness. It showed trust and care for the other, both to be marked and leave a mark, as it required vulnerability and care from both parties. It was a deeply intimate act, one that would be reserved to life-long partners and mates, it was a gesture of possessiveness and devotion tinted with love.

If he were to be honest, Zhongli would have thought himself to be the one to mark you instead of the other way around, it’d been something he’d often fantasized at night before your arrival, and yet, as he felt your — significantly duller teeth — bite into him he could feel his admiration and love for you grow as he became yours; even if you may not have known.

He’d always imagined himself on top of you, your naked form beneath him, as he sunk his canines into your flesh until he tasted your holy blood. He’d imagined himself cradling your pleasure stricken body while you moaned his name, a sinful sound coming from a divine being. Instead, it is himself that lays within your grasp, panting in ecstasy as he holds himself back from coming completely undone and showing a depraved side of himself even he did not know of.

If he was honest, he almost wishes you’d draw blood, sink your teeth so deep into his skin it breaks layers of flesh and leaves a deep scar that could never heal – a sign of your favoritism and ownership, one that he could proudly say was unique to him. If only you weren’t so careful with him, so scared of hurting him; he means no offense, but your current form is significantly weaker than his and he’s survived wars most have not heard of; even if you wanted to sink your nails into his skin and carve your name into his body, he thinks his strength and shear devotion to you alone would prove the pain to be nonexistent.

A gasp of your name leaves his parted lips, it’s erotic - the way his pink lips let a symphony of pleasured sounds - a wave of hormones rushing through his body, sending his brain into overdrive.

You look up at him, not having expected such a lewd reaction, but the sight of his half-lidded eyes as they burn into your own sends a hot-buzz down your spine. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bloodied as he bites them, his bare chest is heaving up and down; the expression on his face is orgasmic. His loose hair sticks to his forehead as sweat runs down his temples, clearly your gesture had taken quite an effect on him.

You slowly remove your lips from their spot, about to question his reaction - wondering if you’d perhaps crossed a line, but he stops you with a crooked smile and warm hands against the back of your head.

“It is okay, Your Grace,” he whispers, tongue darting to wet his drying lips, he guides your head back into his neck, “bite me all you want, my neck is yours for the taking.”

You giggle a bit at his eagerness, feeling his hard-on press against your ass. You playfully adjust yourself in his lap, softly nipping at his neck before biting down in a new spot.

“Ha-ah,” he moans once more, you feel him startle beneath you, “don’t be afraid to draw out blood, either… in fact, please, feel free to do so.”

He can only hope you take on the challenge, eager to flaunt your lovely bites to Neuvillette and any poor soul that even so much as thinks of questioning his position in your life.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || eyeless jack || maid!reader (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: freaky ass demon sex, overstimulation, breeding kink, size kink, marking kink (?), jacks a freaky fuck with his tongues, choking, humiliation, ownership kink if you squint

You stared up blankly at the ceiling, your head throbbing with stress. Since your incident with Toby, you had been notified of Trenderman’s request for you to transfer to his mansion instead. Of course Slenderman declined, an action you were extremely grateful for. Despite your constant affairs with the mansions residents, you always found yourself craving more. Sure, your time with them was fun and hot, but it always left you desiring something more. You felt as though your pleasure wasn’t prioritized. You wouldn’t expect it to be, nor would you request it to a bunch of killers.

With all of that in mind, it left you aching with desire. An unscratched itch keeping you up late at night. It was a Wednesday, the one night a week Slenderman opted for you to sleep like a normal human. He said it was good for you to participate in traditional human behavior every now and then. The moon hung high in the sky, the mansion presumably vacant besides you. Even with that theory being very likely, you still hid in your bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You tucked your lip between your teeth, recounting the memories with the proxies. The way Masky fucked you with his gun, how Toby’s fingers felt around your throat, and how Hoodie thrust into you. You felt like a dirty perv, the way those thoughts turned you on so desperately.

Those thoughts alone were what made your hand slither underneath the band of your shorts.

Surely you were no saint, but the idea of getting off on just thoughts alone made you feel more filthy than anything else. It wasn’t like you had many options, porn just out of reach and your vibrator long forgotten at home. You slowly fluttered your eyes shut, dipping your index and middle finger in between your folds. Gathering your slick you drew slow circles around your clit, allowing yourself to let out a sigh of relief. Finally, your pleasure was being prioritized. Even if you would’ve rather done this with someone else, you were sure this would feel better, right? No one else could know your own body better than you did. You dipped your fingers into your cunt, your gummy walls clinging to your small digits. You whimpered at the sensation, out of pleasure and frustration.

As much as you wanted them to, your fingers just couldn’t reach where you wanted them to go. It was like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch, your patience now growing thin. Deciding you just wanted to cum and get this over with, you brought your other hand to your neglected clit. Biting your bottom lip you exhaled, a soft whine clawing its way out of your throat. You had finally found a decent rhythm, your fingers going as fast as they could to power you through your orgasm. It was then an abrupt knock ripped you from your pleasurable facade, causing you to sit up. “Just a minute!” You called. Panicking you sat up, throwing your blankets off of you. You wiped your hands on your silk shorts, hoping and praying Slenderman of all people wasn’t on the other side of the door. Gripping the doorknob and swinging it open, you couldn’t conceal your puzzled expression at the sight of Eyeless Jack.

His own expression was hidden by his mask, his presence more ominous than anything. It was the first time you said seen him without a hoodie, a tight t shirt clinging to his muscles. “Is now a bad time? I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Jack said. You felt yourself become flustered, awkwardly clearing your throat. “Of course not, what’s up?” You sputtered. Ahh you were so naive, so adorable. Jack was surprised he had managed to keep his hands off of you for this long. “May I come in? I have a question,” Jack explained. You hesitantly took a step back, gesturing for him to come inside of your room. He was the first creep to ever be in there, your bedroom your one safe place hidden away from a group of serial killers. Jack seemed to realize this as well, modestly sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Lovely room. Suits you,” He commented. Unsurely you shut the door, clicking the lock. “You said you had a question?” You inquired. Jack leaned back on his hands, his mask tipped up just enough to where you could see a lazy smile form across his lips. “Why yes of course. I was going to ask you, how is it you get the most sexual interaction around here yet, you’re playing with yourself at night?” Jack asked, cockily tilting his head to the side. You felt your face turn red, your jaw slightly dropping. “Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You lied, trying to sound offended in your tone. Jack was quick to hop off of the bed, towering over you as he pressed you against your bedroom door. “I can smell you whore, don’t fucking lie to me,” He snarled. An animalistic growl had formed in the pit of his throat, the sound so feral it made you freeze in fear.

The terror dripping off of you was a divine smell and sight. But thankfully for you, Jack was the mood for more of a taste related ordeal. He cupped your small face, dragging his thumb mockingly down your bottom lip. He looked at you like he was examining you. “If I were you i’d answer the question,” He purred. You were speechless, the tall demon before you practically oozing with sex appeal. You could feel yourself growing wetter at the sound of his words. Jack grew impatient, sliding off his mask and tossing it aside. You stared up into his empty eye sockets, the black tar substance nearly dripping down his cheeks. “I’d start talking little one, you don’t wanna know what i’ll do if you don’t,” He purred. He relished in the fear in your eyes, your body frozen under his warm touch.

“I-I just get horny. It’s a normal human thing,” You babbled. Teasingly Jack stroked your cheek, grinning at the sight of goosebumps spreading like wildfire across your skin. “Your behavior either believes me to believe you’re part rabbit, based on your sex drive and adorable heartbeat,” Jack began. His fingers were warm against your skin, your body beginning to relax under his touch. “Or all of your sexual partners aren’t keeping you satisfied. So do tell. Which is it pet?” He asked. You swallowed nervously, the situation a little too lewd for your liking. “No they do it’s just-” You started, Jack placing his hand over your head abruptly cutting you off. He stared down at you with his soulless gaze, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer to you.

“Just what? Tell me pet, do they not make you cum?” Jack questioned, curiously tilting his head to the side. You blinked, your mouth running dry at the lewd question. “No they do and they have but I just, it’s hard to explain,” You rambled. Jack was now observing you like you were an experiment, instead of an enticing off limits meal. “Try,” He pried. You nervously toyed with your hair, pulling down your shorts. “I know it doesn’t matter but my pleasure isn’t prioritized, you know? Do you understand what i’m saying?” You confessed. Jack leaned back just a bit, enough to give you some fresh air to inhale that didn’t smell like his cologne. “I’ve spent many heats alone, I understand the desperation all too well,” He admitted. He strayed away from his position, resuming his place sitting on the end of your bed. He patted the space next to him, signaling for you to join him.

“Are you in heat right now?” You asked, hesitantly joining him on the bed. Jack chuckled, his laugh sincere. “No pet I am not. Trust me if I was you’d know,” He explained through his laughter. You raised an eyebrow. “I’d know? How would I know?” You asked. Jacks laughter came to an instant halt, his gaze somehow darkening. “Your cunt would be leaking with my cum if I was,” He said, seriousness lacing his words. You felt your thighs tighten at his words, your core throbbing. You couldn’t help but curiously glance down at his jeans, his cock halfway hard but visible through his pants. Woah.

“I don’t do much talking when i’m in heat. I become more, for lack of better words, animalistic,” Jack explained. You found yourself giving him an awkward smile. Of course the tall demon goes into animalistic heats. Why wouldn’t he? Makes complete sense. You mentally spited the creator of Craigslist. “Pet, i’ve come here with a purpose. And although I do enjoy genuine conversation with someone of your kind, I think it’s time I cut to the chase,” He proposed. He gently pushed your hair behind your shoulder, examining your bare neck. “Your arousal is so intoxicating i’d dare to compare it to the heroin your kind fonds over. You have your cravings and I have mine,” Jack continued. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, inhaling the crook of your neck. “I propose a trade off. We take care of one another,” Jack purred. He slowly licked a hot stripe up your neck, causing you to whimper.

“W-wait, what exactly is your craving?”

Jack chuckled darkly as he leaned close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “To fill you to the brim with my cum, pet,” He huffed. He pressed a kiss against your ear, leaving a trail of pecks down to your neck. His lips became heavier, threatening to suck at the skin. “I leave you a squirming mess and in return you allow me to have my fun at the end, sounds like a good deal, no?” He asked. You whimpered loudly as he began to suck at the skin, covering the marks Toby had left not too long ago. You wanted to maintain your dignity and pride. To tell him no, that you were more dignified than your previous actions made you out to be. But as he sucked a hickey onto your skin, his large hand dancing dangerously close to your dripping cunt, your mind swayed in the opposite direction. “Deal,” You breathed, the creature grinning into your neck.

“I thought you might say that,” Jack mused. He quickly grabbed you, tossing you onto the bed. He undid the buttons of your silk pajama top, halfway tempted to rip the fabric off all together. “Be careful what you wish for, pet,” Jack grinned. Your bare breast were a sight for sore eyes, the demons assault beginning harshly. Palming you through your panties he began sucking hickies on your breast, covering the sensitive flesh with marks. You whimpered at the sensation, your hands finding his hair as he littered your flesh with bruises. “I must admit, seeing you come out of that closet with Toby did something to me,” Jack confessed as he released your skin with a pop. He took your right nipple in between his index and middle finger, harshly toying with the sensitive bud.

“I’m not quite sure how to describe it, jealousy, perhaps?” He rambled. He kissed down your chest, pulling down your thin shorts and panties in one swift motion. “After all, Slender has never allowed me to have a pet before,” Jack snickered. He pushed two of his long, thick fingers into your aching cunt, causing you to whine at the sudden stretch. Jack was physically much bigger than anyone else you had fooled around with. Glancing down at his hard cock, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t going to fit. Jack noticed your unease, giving you a cocky smile. “Relax, i’ll make it fit. Just need this tight pussy to loosen up a bit first,” He purred. He seemed overly confident in his abilities, his fingers curling upwards and brushing against your g spot. You gasped, his fingers hitting all of the places you weren’t able to. You groaned as he continued to finger fuck you, a devious grin spreading across his lips.

“You know usually i’m not so talkative during these kinds of things. But I can feel your walls squeezing me at the sound of my every word,” Jack said. His gaze was daunting and endless as he continued his assault on your g spot, lowering himself down to hover over your folds. His hot breath fanned over your slick, causing you to buck your hips upwards. “Nuh uh pet, not quite yet. Want your first orgasm to be easy before we get into the real fun,” He grinned devilishly. You gasped as he held your hips down with one hand, the other mercilessly finger fucking you. His assault on your core was relentless, the demon above you relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing around his fingers. He could feel that you were getting close, your heart rate telling him everything he needed to know.

“Come on pet, show me how much of a slut you can be and cum on my fingers,” Jack purred. You grabbed at his wrist, your body unable to keep up with pleasure he was giving you. You felt your thighs tremble ever so slightly, your hips attempting to buck as you released on his fingers. You moaned his name as you came, your walls spasming around his digits. Dazed you watched him removed his fingers from you, revealing his three black tongues. Speechless, you stared as he licked your juices off of himself, keeping his gaze on you as he did so. “You taste so good. I think I want seconds,” Jack smirked, diving in between your thighs. You gasped as one of his tongues shoved itself inside of you, the other lapping at your clit. You froze as his third tongue teased your unexplored hole, your body tensing.

“J-Jack wait i’ve n-never-” You stuttered, Jacks tongue slowly pushing inside. His warm tongue made the stretch easier, your body slowly relaxing as he curled it inside of you. With his tongues in both holes you felt like you were floating, both of them abusing each hole. “Fucking shit! Jack!” You moaned, your head tilting back as you shamelessly tried to grind against his face. The pain from the stretch was almost immediately subsided, your thighs trembling as his large hands kept your legs pried open. You felt an unfamiliar sensation form in the pit of your stomach, your eyes screwing shut. “Jack! Feels too good,” You babbled, your orgasm crashing down over you without warning. Jack grinned as he removed his tongue from your clit and puckered hole, instead abruptly shoving them all in your cunt.

You whined as your walls spasmed around his tongues, struggling to accommodate to the girth of all three of them. Briefly he removed all of them, watching your cunt struggle and clench around nothing. “You wanted your pleasure to be the priority right? You’re getting what you wanted, my greedy pet,” Jack purred, his fingers digging into your thighs. He returned his three tongues inside of your cunt, curling upwards to abuse your sweet spot. You were seeing stars, your hands pawing at his hair. You attempted to yank him away from your overstimulated core, your body shaking. “So good, so fuckin, fuck- Jack! Too much, too fuckin much,” You whined, coherent thoughts long discarded as he tongue fucked you. You couldn’t do anything except take it, your body a slave to the pleasure as he brought you to another orgasm.

A silent scream was all your mouth could let out, your thighs attempting to close around Jacks head. The demon finally emerged from between your thighs, your cunt red and puffy. “You’re lucky your cunt taste so good, otherwise I would’ve had your organs instead,” Jack chuckled in a sinister tone. Your eyes widened, the demon flipping you over onto your stomach. You nervously looked up, the creature leaning over you. He rutted his large cock up and down the mounds of your ass, grabbing handfuls of the flesh. His comment about eating your organs normally would’ve scared you, but truthfully your mind was too clouded with lust and hazed with the thrill of what was to come next. You eagerly pushed your ass against him, signaling him to get on with you.

“You just came, what, three times? And you’re already wanting more?” Jack questioned mockingly. He smiled sadistically as he began to push himself inside of you, pain shooting through your body. “The more you fight it, the harder it is, relax,” Jack advised, nibbling at your earlobe. You grabbed handfuls of your sheets as he pushed himself inside of you, your body threatening to split in half. You gritted your teeth together, eyes screwed shut as he continued to make his way inside of your cunt. “There we go. Such a good pet. Taking what you’re made for,” Jack grunted. With one final push he bottomed out, your gummy walls clinging onto his cock. He could hear how fast your heart was beating, as well as the blood flowing through your veins. It only turned him on more, your pain and fear making thrusting into you harder to resist. Nevertheless he began moving his hips, ignoring your painful whines.

“You’ll adjust, I know you will. Just gotta learn to take it,” Jack huffed. He leaned forward on his knuckles, pounding into you from behind. Your painful whines became unholy moans, your eyes slowly blinking open to stare up at the demon above you. He enjoyed watching your face scrunch up in pleasure with each thrust, a demonic grin spread across his lips. “I think I may steal you for my upcoming heat, this cunt is begging me to make you my mate,” He snickered. He could feel you squeeze him as he snapped his hips into yours. “Oh you like that idea? Really? Becoming my mate? Do I fuck you that good?” Jack asked tauntingly. You gripped the sheets, mouth open as you stared up at him. “Yes Jack, shit, so fuckin good. Wanna be your mate, all yours,” You babbled. Jack roughly grabbed your throat, his fingers tightening around your airway.

He continued to abuse your overstimulated cunt, your g spot throbbing as he fucked you. “You fucking slut. You’d tell me anything if I kept fucking you huh? Pathetic,” He growled. He grabbed your face, forcing your lips to shut pucker out like a fish. Jack quickly spat into your mouth, a shiver running down your spine as he did so. “Swallow it slut,” Jack snarled. His saliva traveled down your tongue, before sliding down your throat as you swallowed. Roughly he grabbed your hair, shoving your face down into the sheets. He pounded into you relentlessly, your sinful noises now muffled. You couldn’t warn him you were about to cum, your body snitching on you anyways. He grinned as you creamed on his cock, his thrust not slowing down for a second. “You wanna be the center of attention right? Well now you are. Little cum dump,” He barked. You couldn’t think straight, your vision going hazy as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Mockingly he slapped your ass, the pain shocking you back to life.

“Don’t pass out on me, i’m no where done with you pet.”

[slasherscream]

Hi, sorry to bug but I have to yap to someone about this, and I love your ideas. Do you think Nathan Prescott would take his partner’s last name if he ever got married? Would any of the Crazy Ass Boy Gang?

❥ who would take your last name ❥

Nathan Prescott - He would take your last name so quickly it would make your head spin. You’re the first person who’s given meaning to the world family. His sister tried, but when you’re on a sinking ship, there’s only so much you can do. Try too desperately to save the person drowning next to you and you risk going under yourself. So Nathan drowned alone. Until you, that is. Marrying you, becoming part of your family, is absolution for him. He’s not Sean Prescott’s son. He’s Nathan Y/L/N, your husband. 

Jason Dean/JD - It might seem a little strange for JD to be so willing to change his name. His nickname is just his first and last name together, afterall. This was his mother’s last name. But it’s also his father’s. One night he’ll gently wake you , and in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use he'll ask you if you’d like him to take your last name. There are so many questions he’s asking, in that one sentence: Do you want me to be yours, unequivocally? Will you bear the weight of that ownership? Am I abandoning my Mother, if I leave her all alone as a Dean, with only him as her company? Will you ask me to take it? Please ask. Please take the weight of the asking away. I can’t abandon her. But I can’t stay, either. Put your arms around him and tell him he’ll make one hell of a Y/L/N.

❥ who would want you to take theirs ❥

Sebastian Valmont - He has genuinely doodled your names together in his journals like a middle schooler. Without a hint of irony: Mr. and Mx. Valmont. Y/N Valmont. Since the moment he fell in love he was planning to marry you and give you his last name. The Valmont name carries weight. It’s legacy. It’s old money. He throws his name around and people fall over themselves to get things done for him. He wants you to throw around his name too. He wants you to embrace every luxury he can give you. One of those luxuries is the power of his family name. Use it.

Billy Loomis - His parent’s marriage failed miserably. He doesn’t even know if his Mother kept the name Loomis. At this point, what does it matter? He fights tooth and nail not to live in the past when he has a future with you to look forward to. So he wants to look forward. He wants to do better than his parents did. He wants to wake up in ten years, twenty, thirty and reach for your hand and know you two succeeded. His family name isn’t doomed to failed promises, runaway spouses, and unfaithfulness. You guys are a better Loomis pair than his parents ever were.

David Mccall - Don’t piss him off. If you even try to hint at wanting to keep your original family name, it will be one of the few times you see David’s mask slip. “What? My name not good enough for you, sweetheart? Marriage is for starting over. It’s for building our lives together, not for hanging onto the past. Thought you loved me.” Every dirty trick he has in his arsenal will be used. Whatever it takes until you give in. Sex. Guilt. Moping. Anger. Don’t push back too hard, or go back and forth on the issue for too long. On your wedding day you’re gonna be Y/N Mccall, come hell or high water. There’s no need for anything drastic to take place just for that to happen, right baby? 

Josh Washington - Josh could never be anything but a Washington. It’s the name he shared with his sisters. It’s the only thing he still shares with his sisters. He used to be able to see them in his face, at least. But now… he’s so different, even that bit of the twins has died. It isn’t right that there are so few Washington's left. Most days Josh isn’t even sure if he’s a Washington anymore. If he’s still Human anymore. But you are. You’re gentle, kind, and so painfully human. Just like the twins were. He might have failed them, hell, he probably failed himself. But he won’t fail you. He has a second chance at a family, and this time you’ll always be safe. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Would be so offended if this was even up for debate. Why wouldn’t you be taking his name? Why is it even a discussion? Why does he even have to ask? Will probably say something incredibly mean and unnecessary when you first talk about it. There’s a pit of insecurity in him that no amount of love you can give him will fill. It’s shaped like the love he should have gotten from his father. From his siblings. But the first love he’s ever felt has been yours. But that’s not true for you. You’ve loved people before him. Other people have loved you before he was able to. He needs you to be his. Just his. You’re the only thing in the world that matters that belongs only to him. But there are little pieces of you that will never be just his and it makes him sick. This can fix all that, though! He knows that the security of introducing you as his spouse will be a balm on his soul. He wants tabloids, newspapers, TV, and the radio to all be parroting the words: Y/N Hargreeves. He hopes- no, he knows it will make that hole inside him ache a little less. 

❥ who wants to hyphenate ❥

Jordan Li - Jordan doesn’t want you to give up your identity, who you are, just because you’re marrying them. They also don’t want to change their name, really. Something about not being a Li, despite everything, makes their stomach turn. But marriage is still about coming together. Making two lives so harmonious, so copacetic, that sometimes, if you’re lucky, it becomes one life, shared. Jordan didn’t propose for a long time, afraid of it all going wrong. Of ruining what you have. You helped them believe you two were strong enough to change and grow together. They want your names to reflect that. So, you hyphenate, and you blend, and grow, together. 

Stu Macher - Assumed you would take his last name, but when you pushed back, not sure if you wanted to shirk your family name entirely, Stu had the most relaxed reaction you’ve ever gotten from him about anything. “Okay, why don’t we both change 'em’? We’ll hyphenate! Like Brad Pitt and Angelina, or whatever.” You were expecting a tantrum. Not the easy acceptance that he actually meant for once. The fact is you’re wearing his ring on your finger, and you’re gonna stand in front of all your friends and family and say how much you love him. He’s already won. Why sweat the small stuff? 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Was quite angry when you began to hint at not wanting to change your name. It was the icy, calculated anger that made him dangerous, too. But if you’re marrying him you know how to communicate with him. Reason with him. You don’t want to take his last name because you don’t want to emulate his family. You want to make something of your own with him. You’re not sure how well the words worked until he sets the paperwork down in front of you. Kevin Y/L/N-Khatchadourian. In those small lines of ink, you’ll realize how deep the love Kevin is capable of runs for you. If you squint your eyes those words start to look like: I want us to be different from my parents. He watches you sign the paperwork to change your name, and Kevin has never been more content to give in to one of your demands. Just this once, of course.

A/N: i LOVE a character study question that’s still x reader. you are my favorite person in the world for this one. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[the-alarm-system]

A Guide: Encouraging Separation in Plurality

Hello! I'm Ardyn, and I decided to make this guide because after talking to many systems, I've come to realize that moving from a near medianhood to a full multiplicity may encourage better function for certain systems. For us any identity blurriness brings a lot of pain that has been aided by further separation and amnesiac barriers. Before you put an awful judgement on this, remember that healing is different for everyone, and breaking down barriers isn't best for everyone. This is up to the system, there is no guilt on wanting to do what is best for your system.

RADQUEERS DONT TOUCH

This guide will hold many different exercises and ideas that have been taken from tulpamancy and my own experiences.

first I'd say get situated with identity grounding and also following the "The Body is a Car" exercise within these sources

Identity Grounding

Guide to Switching

Building up Distinction

Separate Journals/Diaries

A seperate journal or diary that nobody can write in but that headmate is a good way to help a headmate build up their identity. They will be able to write down their own experiences and their own feelings, and this seperate space gives reinforces the idea that they are ultimately apart from you.

Separate Accounts with a Separate Feed

Something that pushed for the blur was having similar feeds, seeing my interest would push me to the front and cause issues for Vincent. He ended up making his own account on reddit where he is able to join subreddits that appeal to solely his interest, and it would help keep him at front instead of pull someone else.

Distinct Hobbies

encourage your headmates to pick up hobbies that are not something you may be interested in, hobbies give way to individuality as now they may seek others who share that hobby or spaces online that appeals to that hobby.

Different Clothing and Ownership

Assign different clothing and other items to headmates, let them pick out their own jacket and may they be the only ones to wear that jacket. Let them have their own perfume, let them have their own bag, let them have their own keychain for the car keys. This won't just give you that barrier, but also can be used as a form of identity grounding during a blur. When in blur, you will be able to tell whose fronting based on what clothing makes you feel more yourself.

Different Friends

This option may be more difficult, but it works very efficiently. Let your headmates have their own friend, I mean it. Giving them someone outside the system that they themselves can solely talk to is absolutely perfect in giving that split. Interacting and communication outside the body and encouraging unmasking will do wonders.

Drop Part Language

If you really want to encourage separation, you will have to drop the idea that you are all pieces of another. This is however a preference, speak to your headmates about it. Speak to them about terms they may prefer, maybe customized role names, let them be themselves. Push to yourself too that these are different people, not parts of you. But like I said, if parts language isn't an issue for you, then you might not have to change after all :P but I recommend it for this all to work.

Identity Separating Exercises

Now as you have pushed the formation of these headmates, now it's your goal to start separating them more and more through these exercises

Remember: Fake it until you make it

Being consistent in these exercises will be great, but you also have to make sure you believe that they are working. Plurality is very much a brain game, you have power over yourself and the more you believe these separations the more they will be. Some of these exercises are purely for pushing the belief, I recommend having a collection of proof on your plurality to refer to whenever you get doubtful.

I also recommend joining a tulpamancy community such as a discord or reddit, even if you don't practice tulpamancy, these people have so much trust in themselves and the process that it starts to rub off on you.

Separation Meditation

If you are able to visualize and even after doing all the above you still feel like your headmate hasn't fully left you, this exercise may be useful. In this meditation, you are to visualize the headmate in front of you. Then repeat "___ is a separate person from me" repeatedly for however long you like once a day.

Discussions

Speak to your headmates, ask questions about their lives

Here is a good source on that

The best route to take is to discuss opinions and specifically focus on what you disagree on, this will reinforce in your mind that this person is not you, this person does not agree with you, this person has their own opinion. Focus on those ideas until they really settle, and maybe also record these disagreements in your proof collection.

Affirmations

If you are a bit too busy for these things, constant affirmation throughout the day are both simple and helpful. Here is a good list

"__ is a seperate person from me"

"the system has entirely different and seperate people"

"___ is real and a seperate person"

"the system is noticeably distinct"

at first it may feel silly, but like I said, fake it until you make it. These will reinforce ideas.

Building Up Amnesiac Barriers

This may be more controversial, but for us these barriers help a ton. I would like to say that we already had blackout amnesia to begin with, but these exercises made them "worse". There are many reasons why a system may want to have higher amnesiac barriers, ours being privacy and independence, try to avoid judgement on this decision. The Switching Guide above also has an exercise that will push lost time.

"Cancel Recall"

When a memory from another headmate tries to seep into your thought process, immediately cover that memory and say to yourself "This memory isn't mine to remember". Perhaps visualize a door closing on it or a lock appearing on that memory. Mentally assign that memory to the correct headmate and move on

Affirmation

Affirmations that may help these barriers can be used situationally, just whenever you try and remember a time another headmate fronted think "No, I don't remember"

Headspace Tools

If you have a headspace, try using creation. Imagine cutting memory ties off with everyone else that can only temporarily be connected when agreed upon by both parties. Maybe also set up a headspace memory lock system.

Using Remnants left behind

When I say this I mean use something such as text messages a headmate left behind and when scrolling through them, focus and think "This wasn't me, I don't remember typing this".

Memory Redirection

Most times it's harder to push a memory away than just redirect it. When redirecting memory, for example you start to remember something another headmate did in meatspace, recite "that wasn't me, what did I do during this time" and attempt to recall your time within the headspace instead.

FAKE IT UNTIL YOU MAKE IT, REMEMBER THAT

what do you guys think? any changes we should make? we would love to hear how this guide impacted your system!

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[eldritch-spouse]

Woah hey, you just ran into a fey-

Say hello to Mooncalf !

Do not give him your name.

This not-so-little trickster has been in a deep sleep for a looong long while. It's unclear what got him to stir, perhaps the abnormal phenomena Earth is going through all of a sudden, but now that Mooncalf is wide awake, he has a lot of playtime to catch up on.

Monsters of his kind are some of the most dangerous you could ever find. Short of siadar themselves, these entities often hold far too much power for their immature attitudes. They love games and they hate to lose, to come out unscathed is to have impressive wit. Thankfully, they're quite rare.

Aligning himself with no one's values or goals, Mooncalf lives for the thrill of self-amusement. For deceit, games, music, comedy- His desires as simple and gentle as they can be dark and sadistic. The real consistency of fey like him lies in their worship of the lunar cycles, from which they claim their power is drawn from.

To catch his attention is to reveal yourself particularly unique, or simply stand out at the wrong time in the wrong place. Either way, you're assured a joyride in a pocket space that'll leave you more than a little rattled. Even if you never allow this fey to have ownership over you the proper way, Mooncalf is possessive and adamant that only he may interfere with your life's trajectory, a persistence predator more than anything else. His love for you translates into constant attempts to make your surroundings interesting and exciting, but oftentimes only result in giving you mild to severe anxiety.

Although fey are fond of disguises, many of them will have "go-to" forms, so while you see Mooncalf's bird-legged, hunched visage often, he may appear to you in other ways.

A consequence of staying asleep for as long as he has is that his magic has yet to shake off a certain inertia, which keeps his glamors static and prevent him from shifting back to his natural state. For this reason, Mooncalf avoids taking on his conventionally attractive humanoid disguise. It grows quite irritating to stay in it for prolonged periods of time, causing him to become aimlessly violent.

A non-threatening, rounded form exists to aid him in drained or unsafe states, with the intent of appealing to any perceived predator's emotions and evoking merciful urges. This form is also excellent to preserve energy as a whole. Although presumably weakened when in this state, it wouldn't be a bright idea to just punt Mooncalf against the nearest wall.

When Mooncalf is entering a rut, he will "hunt" a possible partner by using the humanoid disguise and attempting to trick someone into stepping inside a pocket space.

Well. Good luck with bird legs.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Sooooo could I please request a long one shot with Charles x reader I just really fell in love with this pic I mean look at him😍.. I want something by really angsty like maybe reader has made him jealous or he’s giving the reader the silent treatment I want angst and fluff and a happy ending please

A Dance of Jealousy

The club was alive with the pulse of music, the dance floor buzzing with energy as bodies swayed to the beat, flashing lights illuminating the faces of those who sought both pleasure and escape. But for you, the world seemed to fade away, your mind fixated on the sight in front of you—the sight of Vanessa, a woman you barely knew, sitting on Charles’s lap, laughing as if the two of them shared some intimate joke. The very sight of it churned something deep in your stomach, a feeling of jealousy mixed with something far more painful—rejection.

You thought you had a place in his life, even if that place wasn’t clearly defined. But in that moment, watching her cling to him in that bold, confident way, something shifted. The flicker of your heartache turned into a cold, gnawing emptiness. You couldn’t sit there, watch them, and do nothing. So, you left.

As you pushed your way through the crowd, heading to the dance floor, your heart hammered in your chest. The music throbbed in your ears, its rhythm steady and loud as if trying to drown out the bitterness seeping into your thoughts. You moved as though the music controlled your body, the deep, repetitive bass matching the pulse of your emotions as you danced harder and faster. The energy of the crowd around you was a temporary escape from the knot tightening in your chest, but then, Max appeared.

Maximilian VERSTAPPEN —a mafia leader with more power than most could ever dream of—had been making his interest in you known for weeks. He was smooth, charming, and manipulative in ways you couldn’t entirely ignore, even though you never let him get too close. But tonight, in your state of heightened emotions, you couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

Before you could protest, he was pulling you into a dance, his hands at your waist, guiding your movements as though he owned you. His touch was too familiar, too intimate, and you felt your body betray you as you let yourself go, your frustration manifesting in a frantic, almost reckless performance. Max’s eyes never left you, his grin widening as he felt your resistance crumble, but then, just when you thought it was enough, his hand slid lower, dangerously so, and his lips brushed against your ear.

Your stomach turned in protest. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t how you wanted to feel, yet the pressure of everything—the jealousy, the feeling of being replaced, of being dismissed—made it hard to resist. The touch of another man, the blatant disregard for your boundaries, was too much. The last straw was Max’s lips at your neck, a move that felt invasive, crossing a line you weren’t prepared to let anyone cross.

That was when Charles arrived.

His presence, like a thunderstorm rolling in on a clear day, swept over the dance floor. His eyes, dark and stormy, locked onto you. His jaw clenched, and in one fluid movement, he shoved Max aside. Max staggered back, confusion and shock in his eyes, but Charles didn’t even spare him another glance. All his focus was on you.

“I take my eyes off you for one second,” Charles’s voice was low, rough with anger. “And you fall into another man’s arms?”

You didn’t have the courage to respond. How could you? The anger in his voice matched the fury in your chest, but it was different—this was the anger of someone who claimed ownership, someone who wasn’t accustomed to being crossed. His gaze pierced you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

Charles’s hand was like iron as he gripped your arm, pulling you through the crowd without a word. You stumbled behind him, the weight of his fury settling heavily on your shoulders. People watched, some whispering, others frozen, unsure whether they should intervene.

You were too dazed to care, caught in the tight coil of your emotions. All you wanted was to escape, to find some corner of peace. But Charles wasn’t done. Not yet.

The ride to the car was a blur. He was silent, his jaw clenched as he led you to the backseat of his car with such intensity that you barely noticed the cold night air until you were seated inside. The door slammed shut, and then, the engine roared to life. You tried to speak, but no words came out.

Charles didn’t look at you. Not once. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. It felt like hours had passed, and yet not a word had been spoken. His silence was suffocating.

Was he mad at you? You knew he was. But the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it became to breathe. Silence was something you feared more than anything else. It felt like abandonment, like being invisible. Growing up, silence had always meant something was wrong—something was about to happen, something bad. A shift in the atmosphere, a tension in the air that signaled the worst.

And now, in the suffocating silence of the car, you were left to stew in your own thoughts, each one darker than the last.

You didn’t realize it then, but your childhood had left a mark. You had grown up in a household where arguments were common, but what truly haunted you was the silence that followed. The long stretches of nothingness that felt like a punishment. No words, no reassurance. Just the suffocating stillness before everything fell apart.

You had always feared being ignored. It made you feel small, invisible, like you were nothing. It had made you strive for approval from others, trying desperately to avoid the loneliness that followed silence like a shadow.

But now, with Charles beside you, ignoring you with such intensity, the weight of that childhood fear crushed you. Had you done something wrong? Was he angry at you? You could feel the tears welling up, a sharp knot in your throat that you couldn’t swallow down.

And then, he accelerated. The car surged forward, the tires screeching as Charles drove faster and faster, the city lights blurring past you in a haze of fear. You gripped the seat, your heart racing, the anxiety gnawing at you. You couldn’t breathe. The speed, the silence, the tension—it all felt like too much.

“Charles, please,” you gasped, trying to steady yourself. “Slow down.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even glance at you. It only made the fear build higher, until your breath became shallow, and your hands started shaking. The silence between you two was deafening, suffocating.

And then, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You broke. Tears started streaming down your face, hot and desperate, your chest heaving with each sob. “Please… I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to…”

Finally, Charles’s grip on the wheel tightened even further, his eyes darkening with a mix of guilt and anger. He swerved the car off the main road and onto a deserted street, the engine growling in the silence as he slammed the brakes, the car screeching to a halt.

The tension in the car snapped, and for the first time, Charles turned his gaze to you—really looked at you. His eyes softened, the anger receding, but the hurt lingered.

“Don’t cry,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. His rough hands reached for you, cupping your face gently, brushing the tears from your cheeks. His touch was surprisingly tender, like he was trying to pull you back from the edge. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I’m scared of being ignored,” you whispered through your sobs, your voice trembling. “Of being invisible. It reminds me of… of my childhood. The silence. When people stopped talking to me, I felt like I was nothing.”

Charles’s expression softened with understanding. His thumb brushed over your skin again, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know it hurt you like that.” His voice dropped to a whisper, the rawness of his emotion evident in every word. “I just… I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. You had never expected Charles to be so open, so vulnerable. It was as if the storm had passed and the silence between you no longer felt like an accusation.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, reaching for his hand, pulling it to your chest. “I’m not leaving you, Charles. I just… I didn’t know you’d be so mad. I didn’t know I meant so much to you.”

Charles stared at you, his face etched with a blend of frustration and longing. Finally, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his thumb across your hand in slow, deliberate motions. “I’m jealous, okay? Of Max. Of anyone who dares to touch you. You’re mine, and I’ve been too damn stupid to admit it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. The intensity of his confession hit you in waves, and suddenly, everything you’d feared seemed to dissolve. He wasn’t angry at you—he was angry because he cared so damn much.

“Charles…” you whispered, the words thick in your throat. “I’m yours, too.”

The car’s engine purred quietly now, the sharp screech of tires and the rush of speed replaced by a lingering tension in the air. The night’s events still felt like a storm, too raw, too overwhelming, but in the silence that surrounded you both now, something had shifted. It wasn’t just the apology—it was more than that. Charles had peeled back a layer of his guarded exterior, something you had never seen before.

The car’s engine idled in the silence, the world outside completely still. It felt like time had stopped. You and Charles were left in the aftermath of the storm, the tension still hanging between you like a thick fog.

But it wasn’t just anger that had brought you here. It was the fear—the kind of fear you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried to swallow it down. Fear of being ignored, of feeling invisible again. It had haunted you your whole life, and it was the one thing that made your chest tighten the most.

Charles, sensing the depth of your emotions, softened slightly, though his features were still tight with tension. He looked at you, his jaw still clenched, but now, his gaze was filled with something else—understanding. Slowly, he reached over, his rough hand brushing against yours.

“I’m not going to ignore you,” he said, his voice low and sincere, his eyes never leaving yours.

You flinched, your body trembling at the words, and a fresh wave of tears filled your eyes. You could feel the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “I don’t want to be ignored,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve felt invisible for so long… like I don’t matter. I just… I don’t want that with you, Charles. I don’t want to feel like I’m nothing.”

Charles’s eyes softened, and for the first time that night, you saw the vulnerability in him. The walls he had built around himself seemed to crack just a little. He reached up, cupping your face in his large hands, gently brushing away the tears that continued to fall.

“I didn’t realize it hurt you like that,” he murmured, his voice a soft contradiction to the fierce man you had known all this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

But then, something inside you broke. It was like all the pent-up emotions—years of insecurity and loneliness—came rushing out in a flood. You couldn’t stop yourself now. You needed him to understand.

“Growing up,” you began, your voice trembling, “it was always like that. The silence. The moments when everything stopped, and I was left alone in it. I would do something wrong, or I wouldn’t say the right thing, and then… nothing. No words. No love. Just cold silence.”

Charles’s expression hardened as he took in your words. “I didn’t know,” he said softly, his voice cracking with the weight of what you had just shared.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the floodgates open as everything you had buried deep inside poured out. “It was always the silence that terrified me. The idea of not mattering enough to even be noticed. I thought… I thought that if I wasn’t perfect, if I wasn’t seen, then I didn’t exist. That no one would care. I’ve always been terrified of that.” Your voice broke, and the tears kept coming, but this time, they felt different. They felt like a release.

Charles didn’t say anything at first. He just held you, his arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you against his chest, as though he could shield you from the pain of your past. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his tone filled with regret. “I’ll never ignore you, not like that. You’re not invisible to me. You matter. You always have.”

You buried your face against his shirt, your fingers gripping the fabric as if you could anchor yourself to him. “Please… promise me you won’t ignore me. Promise me you won’t leave me alone like that.”

He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes, his expression fierce, but there was tenderness in the way he held you. “I swear,” he said firmly. “I won’t ever let you feel like that again. Not with me. You’re not invisible, not to me.”

You exhaled, the weight of the fear lifting just a little. His words, his touch, his presence—it all reassured you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

But then, something shifted in his gaze. A darkness settled over him as he looked at you, his jaw tight once more. “And Max,” he growled, the fury from earlier resurfacing in his eyes. “He’ll never touch you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

You flinched, instinctively pulling away from the intensity in his voice. “Charles… please don’t hurt him,” you whispered. “I just wanted to escape, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have danced with him.”

Charles’s face softened, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “It’s not your fault. Max crossed a line, and he won’t get away with it. He made a mistake, thinking he could have you. And now he’s going to regret it.”

The possessiveness in his voice was clear, and although it sent a thrill through you, a part of you still felt uneasy about the extreme lengths he was willing to go to. But then you remembered—this was Charles. A man who had built his life on power and control. And no one, not even Max, would take what was his.

“You don’t need to do anything,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face gently. “I just want us to be okay. I want to feel like I belong… with you.”

Charles stared at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before his lips parted, his voice thick with emotion. “You do belong with me,” he said quietly. “You’ve always belonged with me. And I’m not going to let anything take you away from me.”

The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent a jolt through you. You knew that Charles would do anything to keep you close, to protect you, but this—this was different. It was raw, real, and terrifying in its intensity. You had never expected this side of him.

But it felt right. It felt like you were finally seen. Finally understood.

As the silence settled again, this time it was different. There were no unspoken fears between you now. There was only understanding, and the promise of something more.

Charles let out a slow breath, his gaze softening as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll make sure you never feel invisible again,” he said, his voice quiet but unwavering. “You’re mine. And no one—no one—will take you from me.”

In that moment, everything in you calmed. The storm had passed, and now, in his arms, you felt safe. You weren’t invisible anymore. You had a place. You had a home, and it was with Charles.

And as the car sat quietly in the night, you realized that you weren’t afraid anymore. Not of the silence, not of the fear, and not of the future. Because with him, you knew you were finally where you belonged.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.