#which sometimes happen to come together in women too

[whinlatter]

sorry if you've discussed this before, but do you think ginny's quidditch talent came out of nowhere? it's a common criticism I see about her but I feel like that kind of overstates how much of a quidditch "star" she was at the beginning, like she was consistently described as good but not great until partway into hbp and I also think it makes sense she'd keep it a secret from her teasing brothers. but maybe they're right and I'm just biased towards defending ginny

thank you for the question, anon!

the short answer is - no, i think it's (just about) plausibly rendered in the books. i think the series gets away with it because:

the story is told from the perspective of a teenage boy aka peak obliviousness in corporeal form, so we see what harry sees (and harry notices big fat nothing)

there is an entirely adequate narrative explanation for ginny's sporting skills that most readers not operating in bad faith* can put together, as you suggest: ginny comes from a sporty family who are all good at quidditch; she is of middling-to-good seeking ability when she first joins the team in ootp; she then has a good few months flying several times a week where she would necessarily grow in confidence and experience, leaving her perfectly able to blossom in hbp in a high school sport where she is competing against other children. fine and dandy in my book.

also quidditch is a broadly dumb and pointless plot so ginny being good at it is just a fun extra that we don't need to deep too much because - let's be real - quidditch is a waste of page space.

*i say this because, most of the time, these takes come from those who don't like hinny as a pairing. which is entirely their right and prerogative! it personally doesn't float my boat to spend my days doing worst faith readings of the text in order to make the case against canon ships i don't like, but as this is a race to the bottom - we are all adults dissecting children's books written by a nasty spiteful woman rotting in her mouldy castle spouting slurs, after all - who am i to judge.

(i also suspect the 'ginny is good at quidditch out of nowhere' takes have enjoyed such a long shelf-life on eg. reddit because the films are still most people's primary reference for HP takes so complaints about them then get cast back on the books - and, in the films, ginny does in fact rock up in film 6 like she's mbappé, if mbappé had the charisma of an extraordinarily soggy bath mat.)

with that said... could it have done with a bit more foreshadowing? yes, probably. people who don't like hinny as a pairing and prefer another are never going to be convinced - that's fine! but here i am, a paid-up hinny supporter, and even i think ginny's character development is sometimes wanting, to a frustrating and problematic extent. good writing (usually) means showing not telling, and it's weird and lazy of jkr to be so slapdash about revealing this and other character details about ginny and other (often female) characters. i think it's particularly striking that jkr underserves characters (again, usually women) who exist to serve the emotional development of characters (usually men), rather than the mystery plot(s) that drive hp as a series. (wanted! tonks' personality! last seen making fake pig noses and being the only auror mad eye moody mentored as his successor, for no plot reason!)

while i'm not a die-hard adherent to the chekhov's gun principle, i think one of the strengths of many novels du jour - especially the nothing really happens postmodern novel that crowds the bookshop shelves these days - is that their conventions allow authors to add colour to characters without each tiny detail being pregnant with meaning and in service of a driving plot that must be marched forward at all times. that can be really nice! as readers, we like to get a sense of characters as well-rounded living breathing people who go for a wee and take the bins out and stick on an album because it slaps every now and then; in these novels, we're also happier with the idea that things can happen to characters beyond the protagonist that don't directly impact the plot or demand the protagonist knows more than their own very limited vantage point. you have more room to play with character as a result.

jkr, ofc, isn't that kind of author. jkr is in fact an author for whom everything about her characters serves the plot. this, after all, is the brain that brought you 'remus lupin' the werewolf, and named the bad-guy-turned-good-guy in a book using a big black dog as a red herring omen of death 'sirius black'. jkr wants her audience to notice clues and remember little details about characters because they might be significant later on. this is entirely her wont and - lupin and sirius aside - she's often very good at it. the hp books are all standalone mysteries, and, when they land, those mysteries slap. ginny being the culprit in CoS is a genuinely satisfying resolution to the whodunit plot: this was reflected in critical reception at the time and was part of the reason why hp was able to be marketed as a children's book adults would also enjoy thereafter. there are also very satisfying foreshadowing and mystery plots that straddle the entire series and that reward the reader with reasonably good pay-off at the series end. (my favourite is the foreshadow within the foreshadow - e.g. regulus black barrelling back from ootp in DH, but then regulus' plot turning out to ultimately exist to foreshadow snape's own double agent status... delicious).

for my part, it's also what i want out of the fiction i read and the stories i try to write. i want everything to mean something. i want the weather, clothing, setting, body language etc to all do heavy lifting. i want character work to do work. it makes it fun for me to write and (i hope) it can it a bit more fun for the reader.

the problem is that while jkr is good setting up some mysteries, she is bad at others, and the romantic plot is one she falls down (a bit) on. she sets herself up for this: she wants to be a plot-centred mystery writer, so she does have an obligation to do better in how she deploys character details. jkr does to try to write the harry/ginny romance like a mystery, with little hints throughout the series up to the reveal of harry's feelings for ginny in HBP. (even ginny's full name is nominative determinism, finally revealed in DH once the reader has been told her place in the plot - ginevra, so guinnevre, the hero's queen). and while i will never not tire of pointing out to all of reddit that harry/ginny didn't come out of nowhere, and there is some satisfying foreshadowing knocking about here and there, i think it's fair to say that the harry/ginny build-up is not as satisfying as it could have been because jkr is basically lazier about the clues that ginny is the character harry will ultimately fall for, while she is much better at dropping clues for the series' central plot. that ginny ends the series with no real resolution of the primary tensions that motivate her other than her love of harry is probably the most acute example of this. but there's lots about her character where jkr phones it in a bit in fleshing her out or taking it to any logical conclusions or interesting plot directions. a smattering of examples:

ginny is the character who spends the entire series demanding to be included and not underestimated ends the series... with no real major role in the battle other than causing harry panic, while all other central characters receive a satisfying narrative arc that speaks to their central motivators across the series as a whole. (for an interesting discussion of what should have happened with ginny and the horcruxes, see here. i didn't even pay @saintsenara to write this!)

there are lots of shades of colour to ginny's character that are introduced pointlessly. i have previously talked about my beef with arnold the pygmy puff. we know ginny is popular but we know nothing of her friends who are all faceless plotless nobodies. we know ginny supports the all-womens quidditch team in a way that implies a nascent feminist politics after a childhood being excluded from playing a sport she loves by her brothers - yet we know nothing of it. we know ginny loves the one wizarding band that seems to exist because she has a poster of them on her wall and it just.... is something we just get told about her. now, all of these suggest ginny is a good time gal and a right laugh at the pub. and that's nice! i too am fun at the pub! but why does it matter? it wouldn't, in another series. but in a series where Everything Matters, it really stands out.

now..... i don't think all of this is an unsolveable problem for those of us writing fanfiction about ginny or harry and ginny as a couple. i don't think this makes ginny an inherently bad character. i hope the amount of life i have wasted thinking about this character is testament to this (...) and i personally find trying to cook up some fleshed-out characterisation and a satisfying arc for ginny, and for female characters more generally, from the crumbs of the original source material to be a very rewarding way to pass the time and a fuck you to a woman who thinks she can gatekeep womanhood while writing some astonishingly antifeminist fiction. i think harry and ginny are a deeply compelling and eminently plausible couple, and i think i return to writing about them as much as i do because i think they have a ton of potential as narrative mirrors and as characters with a rich well of tension but also devotion between them. as i say a lot, i think one of the things the harry/ginny pairing does refreshingly well compared to other romantic lead couples in YA fiction is show a couple that, at heart, genuinely get on very well, have a laugh together and enjoy each other's company in completely mundane lovely day-to-day ways (laundry and taxes u know). i think that's a striking and refreshing dynamic that i like to spend time fleshing out and playing with and writing about. but i can also see that there is an inconsistency in jkr's character work here, particularly her character work writing female characters, of which ginny is among the most acute examples.

[mutantenfisch]

I have now gone through the 5 stages of grief with Eskel’s face and am half tempted to just draw the two of them smooching and write the rest as a smol fic. Also, it rarely happens that i feel attraction to a woman but holy cow i want to be picked up and placed on a counter and then gently smooched by Jaromirska too

[corsomondo]

Fuck it, first batch of OUAW moms, because I think about these women more than the actual cast.

More info under the cut.

First up is Genni Grimgrin, Grickos mama. She´s a carefree and kind soul, not unlike Gricko, but more of a pushover, often insecure and unsure of what she wants. She dedicated so much of herself to raising Gricko and mantaining a roof over their heads after her husband walked out on them, that once Gricko went too, she was left behind alone to ponder what she once even wanted out of life. They at least still regularly hear from eachother though and it seems as though shes picking up hobbies of her own.

Next we have Myriani, sometimes also called ´the strange one armed witch from around the corner´, Torbeks mother. A wild sorceress with distant elven heritage, she hails from the Feywild and posesses great magical abilities. She has lived in poverty for as long as she can remember. Never intending to have children, she conceived Torbek with the intent of selling him, resulting in a spiral of traumatic events that left her fleeing after a forced c-section, never learning of Torbeks fate. She wants nothing to do with the child she carried though and now lives hidden away from society.

Last up comes Farheen, Gideons mom. A great Djinn with immense powers, she has lived for eons and tricked many who tried to gain favour from her. When a measly farmer comes to her though, something goes differently. One can´t be quite sure what happened - if he promised her something she couldn´t refuse, if she warmed up and grew fond of the mortal man, but somehow they conceived a child together, which gideons dad was left to raise on his own as Farheen vanished as quickly as she had entered his life. Perhaps she couldn´t handle the attachment she had grown - or maybe she just found something new to entertain her immortal life with.

[ennn]

Things I Liked About the Agatha All Along Finale - Initial Thoughts

Wooooo boy. Hey look I'm a bleeding heart shipper but I'm old and have been in enough fandoms. Let's process shall we?

Alice! Alice echo-ing what so many fans are saying about her lost potential. Rio actually being kind in reminding Alice her death did have purpose. "You're a protection witch, you protected someone."

The development of Billy's extremely complicated relationship with Agatha. Kid's not loyal to Agatha, he's understanding her, or starting to at least. He sees her being a relationship with Death and he's curious about the story there. He cares enough to connect the dots and see Agatha as a full person. And we see that developed as the finale goes.

"That's it? That's all the time that I get?" The show reminds us that death sometimes just happens – "Sometimes boys die" – I wonder if one of these writers is a Sandman fan because I immediately clocked a parallel to Death of the Endless taking a baby's life in her first comic appearance.

Death of the Endless is of course much kinder than Rio is with her (iconic) reply to that eternal question. "You lived what anyone gets... A lifetime."

That whole convo we got in the preview clip. And then them just sitting down and talking more? Albeit with layers of manipulation but y'know that's them.

Agatha telling Rio that she'll hand over Billy if Rio leaves her alone: essentially making Rio once again choose between her duty and her feelings towards Agatha. The deepest cut Agatha could make – which we see echoed with "If you do this I'll hate you forever." They know each other and the best ways to hurt each other.

I laughed waaaay too much at Agatha ragging on Jen's last vegetable name.

Jen's unbinding ritual was powerful and a fantastic moment for the character. She recognised and embraced her power. Agatha's mask slipping a little at the end as well. Amazing. Sasheer killed it.

The whole scene with Agatha working with Billy to bring Tommy back was beautiful and emotional and well put together and showed the side to Agatha that cements her as a great mentor (when she's not being the biggest murderous asshole).

Agatha using what she learnt from her Alice and Jen – and what Lilia told her – to hold her ground with Rio... okay it lasted like 10 seconds but it was a nice callback! Agatha's such a shameless survivor.

Incredible kissing. We knew Hahn and Plaza would deliver and they did. When it comes to kissing women, these two absolutely go for it.

Rio looking absolutely gutted with having to take Nicky away. Plaza really delivered with Rio's pain in these eps. Agatha calling her "my love", cursing and then begging.

Rio being soft about Nicky despite her job. Nicky willingly going with her with no fear, no hesitation – suggesting that they did bond somehow? Nicky knew she was a friendly face and trusted her. It was really a good death, all things considered. He wasn't sick, he wasn't in pain, he wasn't scared he simply fell asleep and just went.

Rio reminding Nicky to kiss his mom goodbye. She cares so much, as much as a personification of death can. It's funny how some people thought Rio was going to be this manipulative big bad but no, Agatha's the more toxic one in this relationship.

Okay like imagine Agatha finally dying and just straight up BOOKING it before Rio pops up. Rio hates ghosts. The number of times Agatha deliberately pissed her off this finale was amazing.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you for... whatever you did." Aw Billy is a good kid. Just like Nicky was. Agatha needs that reminder, that anchor to not be the Worst.

Chemistry aside, Agatha and Billy being mentor-pupil makes a ton of sense because these Maximoffs do the most fucked up shit (unintentionally) with their magic and Agatha's got the knowledge, charisma, cynicism, and the morals of a spinning compass to support him.

Alright when are they announcing the sequel / spin-off? I know there's a rumour of it happening. Rio's got 2 abominations and one endlessly aggravating ghost of an ex to deal with now.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐈𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥~

Pairing: Husband!Damian Wayne x Wife!Reader

Word count: 759

Warning: suggestive at the very end

People know you and Damian belong together, no doubt about it. With making your relationship public and years later your marriage, which was also the talking gossip around Gotham for a month or two, everyone knows. But some people are too stubborn to the fact, you learn that very early in your relationship when women would just throw themselves at your lover's arm clinging to him as he tries to pray them off with an annoying expression, thinking that the son of Bruce Wayne would have the same Playboy persona just like his father, but they’re wrong forgetting the Damian Wayne is in fact, the most loyal man when it had came down to your dating and now marriage.

He would rather be with you than any other woman on earth, and for some, it was hard to face reality. You’re grown used to it over the years. But sometimes it just grows a spark inside of you. Much like tonight, in the Wayne manor that now belongs to the two of you. After Bruce’s retirement, it’s now Damian’s job to throw those galas and charity events, much to his dismay.

Secretly you do the work because he wasn’t given the gift of organization at all. So now you stand back, watching everyone. Happy with the way the nights going as you sip on your glass of champagne, it’s different front the rest. Damian thinks you deserve better than the champagne and wine that’s given out to the others. You spot his brothers in the crowd and other familiar faces that belong to a few close friends. The last face you spot was your husband, chatting away with men from his workplace. A forced smile on his face. It makes you chuckle, as a kid he hated them, and even as an adult he still does. But it’s more tolerable, well kinda.

You spot a random woman stumbling towards the ground of men, obviously sober as she tries to act intoxicated for the hell of it. She leaps for Damian’s arm that’s on his side, ignoring the one that holds his drink. He doesn’t shake her off, instead, he lets out a fake laugh along with the others around him.

That’s new you thought.

This went on for more than ten minutes which was a surprise. Normally it would’ve taken him less than five to shake them off, but instead, he’s standing there letting it happen. Which was a surprise. They’re having conversations, sometimes other people would chime in here and there.

Damian says something you can’t hear, and the woman laughs, giggling loudly to the point where you can hear her from the other side of the room. She laughs like it was the funniest thing she’s heard all night.

The horrendous laughter dies down, and she stares. Directly at you. She stares at you with a sly grin that paints her red lips. You frown and glare, gripping your glass. Almost breaking it until one of the servants comes up to you and offers you another drink, which you gladly take without a second thought.

The glare you send is hard, most people can sense it, the chilling aura that spills from you. Damian’s quick to sense it, he’s good at it, with a quick look towards you as you stare down at his arm— he gives you a genuine grin. He shakes off the women.

“Apologies. My presence is needed elsewhere” he gives a side eye down “with my wife” The woman was not happy, pouting as he watched her target leave her sight. But she puts on a facade and leaves, probably off to find another arm to cling on.

There’s a shit-eating grin plaster on his face when he walks up to you, and all you could do is roll your eyes—taking a big sip out of your drink in your hand.

“Zawjati?” he called out “Why are you here all by yourself?”

“You just seemed a little busy with your groups of friends” you hum “I didn’t want to ruin it”

The grin on his face softens, arm stretched out towards you, and you take his warm hand without a second thought. “Don’t be jealous” he chuckles “Everyone knows I’m all yours”

“Why would I be jealous?” You scuff, he was right but you would never admit that to his face. You lean into him closer, bringing him down to your level—lips brushing up against his ear “When I’m the one that ends up taking you straight to the bedroom right after every time”

[mellowsadistic]

“What are you doing, baby?”

Ashley rolled her eyes as she lifted her legs into the air. “What does it look like I’m doing, Daddy? I’m getting ready for you to change my nappy."

"You don't need changing just yet, little girl," her Daddy said, trying to sound firm. "Why don't you go back to playing with your friends, sweetie? You're only a bit soggy, and the other girls all look wet too."

Ashley gave him a sour look. "I don't care if their nappies are dragging along the ground, Daddy. I want to be changed now."

"Honey, please..."

After the new laws came into place stripping women of their adult rights and privileges, most of those with bossy temperaments underwent quick and significant changes in their attitudes - often at the end of a hairbrush - but not all of them gave in so easily. Despite her youth, Ashley had been a high-ranking executive at a successful company, and after some initial shock and horror at being demoted to diapers and adopted by her former assistant, she soon learned to adapt.

Spankings and other punishments proved to be totally ineffective, and only encouraged her to show her new Daddy just how much of a little terror she could be if she didn't get her way. She screamed loudly in the middle of the night, she threw tantrums in public, she trashed expensive furniture and ripped up important documents, until eventually her Daddy realised the truth; even if she ate her meals in a highchair, slept in a crib, and wore thick diapers and plastic pants 24/7, she was still in charge.

Sometimes, however, he needed a little reminder. Ashley took a deep breath. "Daddy... Here's what's going to happen. In a few minutes, I'm going to go back out there with a clean nappy, so all those dumb brats understand that I'm the queen bee of this park. Then later, when you and the other Daddies are sitting together talking about whatever it is you like to talk about, I'm going to come over and sit in your lap and say how much I wuv sucking my Daddy's big dick, and they're all going to think you're the luckiest man in the world, which you are. We're going to have cuddles, and you’re going to tell me how much you love me, and I’m going to say I love you too, because I do, and it will be a perfect afternoon. But first, before we do any of that, you are going to change. My. Nappy!"

"Alright, princess..." her Daddy said resignedly, but as he started pulling off her plastic pants, there was the faintest smile on his face that suggested he wasn't entirely unhappy with the situation. "You’re the boss," he sighed.

“That’s right, Daddy." Ashley lay down on her back, smirking. "I am.”

[girlgenius1111]

flipped

ingrid x mapi x reader smut 18+ mapi + r turn the tables on ingrid after a stressful week.

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If there was one thing that practically everyone knew about your relationship, it was that Ingrid had you and Mapi under her thumb. One word from her, and the two of you would abandon whatever ridiculous idea you were plotting, smile guiltily at her, and do as she said. It was assumed that this was how things went in… other aspects of your relationship. 

That assumption would be correct. 

You and Mapi did what Ingrid wanted. You fucked when she said you could. You came only when she allowed it. You took any punishment she decided on, though not without complaint. And while Mapi definitely had some power over you too, you were the true, definitive sub in the relationship. Most of the time spent with your girlfriends in a sexual way was either Mapi and Ingrid taking you to pieces together, or Ingrid taking you and Mapi to pieces herself. 

What never occurred, though, was Ingrid allowing herself to submit to either of you. She liked to be in control; in her life, she so often felt such little control, that when she had the opportunity for it, she took it immediately. And normally, this was fine. Everyone’s needs were met, everyone got exactly what they wanted. For Ingrid, that was being in charge. For Mapi that was toeing the line between bossing you around, and listening to Ingrid. For you, that was doing whatever the 2 other women told you too. 

Recently, though, you and Mapi got the feeling that although she would never admit it, Ingrid needed something different from you both. She was stressed, beyond belief. You were out with a concussion, which you were almost fully healed from, though the club was being cautious with you. Mapi was recovering well from knee surgery, already walking and back to normal, non football activities. Yet Ingrid continued to hover and do everything for the both of you like she’d done when you both first got hurt. It seemed like she was struggling with not being able to control your injuries, not being able to fix it and make it all better. 

She was under so much pressure at work, putting so much pressure on herself at home, that it really was only a matter of time before she snapped. And, of course, this snap came in the form of a screaming match between her and Mapi. Mapi was generally grouchier because she couldn’t play, and she’d get into moods sometimes where it was just better to leave her alone, and let her work through it. She’d always come to the two of you later, apologize for her behavior, and allow you both to make her feel better. Ingrid knew this, but she wasn’t having the best day either, the team having an awful practice after a less than satisfactory win over the weekend. She was tired, and annoyed, and had absolutely no patience for Mapi’s attitude. This all very quickly dissolved into an argument. You all didn’t fight often. Mapi was a short tempered person, though, and recently, Ingrid was too, increasingly so. 

You’d arrived home after both girls, having gotten lunch after training with some of your teammates. It was… eerily quiet when you walked into the house. No music playing, no show playing on the TV. You didn’t know where Ingrid was, but you could see Mapi’s head peeking over the edge of the lounge chair in the backyard. You headed that way, rather cautiously, confused as to what had caused such tension in the house while you were gone. 

Mapi was still pissed, you could tell that the second you caught a look at her face. She was holding Bagheera on her lap like a Bond villain, and scowling at the sky above her. 

“Hey.” You said quietly, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Hi.” She grunted. 

“What happened?” You asked. 

“Ask your girlfriend.” 

“I just did.” You reminded her, smiling a bit. Mapi shot you a glare, clearly not appreciating your attempt at humor. “What’s wrong?” you asked, a bit kinder this time. 

“Ingrid is in a mood.” She complained. And so is María, you thought to yourself, knowing better than to say it out loud. You reached out, taking her hand in yours, glad when you saw her body visibly relax at the contact. 

“What did you fight about?” 

“I do not even remember. I came home and said I wanted to be alone and she just started shouting at me and I yelled back and then we both stormed off.” Mapi admitted. 

“Maybe Ingrid didn’t want to be alone.” You suggested. 

“Well, I did.” Mapi said shortly. You rolled your eyes. 

“María, I love you very much, but sometimes I think you forget that Ingrid is just as emotional as you are, she just does a better job hiding it. She was probably upset, or stressed, and wanted you, and you probably blew her off because you were focused on being grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy,” Mapi began. You silenced her with a single raised eyebrow. Mapi groaned. “Fine, I will go apologize.” 

“No, not yet. I’ll go talk to her. You can come in in 10 minutes, and then apologize.” You declared, ignoring Mapi’s frustrated huff in favor of kissing her forehead and walking directly back inside. 

You found your other girlfriend in the bedroom. Well, you didn’t really find her. You found an Ingrid sized shape under the covers, and carefully crawled onto the bed next to it.

“Ingrid,” you called softly, only hearing a soft sniffle in response. This was your first clue that something was really wrong, more than just the fight. “Let me see you.” You insisted, pulling the covers off your girlfriend’s head. She was curled up into a miserable little ball, cheeks tearstained, a frown set on her lips. 

“Hi.” She said stiffly. 

“Do you want a hug?” You asked, opening your arms when Ingrid nodded, and practically threw herself at you. Her larger body landed on top of yours, and she settled her face against your shoulder. “Hey pretty girl.” You murmured, pushing some hair out of her face. 

“Did you talk to María?” She asked quietly. 

“Yes.” 

“Is she upset with me?” Ingrid wondered. She sounded so unlike herself, so insecure and vulnerable. 

“A bit, before. I talked to her though. She isn’t mad anymore.” 

“She should be mad. I was horrible.” Ingrid sighed. 

“I think we’re both just worried about you, baby.” You told her, still holding tight even when she tried to pull back a bit. 

“I’m fine.” Ingrid replied in a monotone. 

“I don’t believe that.” 

“I do not either.” María spoke from the doorway. Ingrid stiffened against you, but Mapi was across the room in a flash, crawling onto the bed next to you both. “Ingrid,” she sighed, noticing when the brunette started to cry again. 

“I’m sorry, María,” Ingrid sobbed, shifting off of you to push her face into Mapi’s sweatshirt. 

“Hey, shh. Estás bien amor, todo está bien.” Mapi whispered, pulling both you and Ingrid in as close as you could get. “I am not mad, cariño. I am sorry I was so grouchy earlier, I should have made sure you were okay.”

“I’m just so stressed,” Ingrid said, so quietly it was clear she was reluctant to say anything at all. “I don’t remember what it’s like not to be stressed.” 

You and Mapi exchanged a look, wondering if this was the right time to set your plan into action. The plan that you’d been discussing for days, with no clear way to get it started. This seemed like the right time. Ingrid needed this, even if she would never ask for it. Never know that she needed to ask for it. You and Mapi knew just how well it could work, though. 

“You know what helps me when I’m stressed?” You asked quietly, wiping a few tears off Ingrid’s cheeks when she turned to look at you. 

She cracked a faint smile. “I do. I don’t know that making you come until you can’t think would help me, though.” 

She was joking, but looking between you and Mapi, she realized she was closer to what you were insinuating than she thought. 

“No, but letting us help you might.” Mapi smiled. 

Ingrid’s face was blank, but there was a flicker of interest behind her eyes.

“You both want to… me? You want to…” She trailed off. 

“Fuck you? Yes, we do.” Mapi said easily. 

“Very much.” You echoed. 

Ingrid looked baffled, completely shocked. Neither of you had ever expressed interest in doing this before, until now. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want it, not really. It was just… scary. But she trusted you guys, and it was this that had her pulling you both a bit closer. 

“Only if you want us to, Ingrid. If you don’t, we can just talk, just relax. Whatever you need.” 

“I want it.” Ingrid said, though it was clear in her tone that she hadn’t given in, not completely. She still held both of you like she was in control, like she was in charge. 

“Let me take care of you, bebita,” Mapi whispered, nuzzling her face into Ingrid’s neck and beginning to kiss at her skin. “Let us take care of you.” 

Ingrid still looked unsure, though she tilted her neck slightly to allow Mapi easier access. Her eyes were fixed on you, vulnerable and desperate, when she responded.  “I don’t know how to not…” she trailed off. What she meant was clear. She didn’t know how to not be in control.

“We’ll show you.” You promised. “We’re very good at it.” 

“You are. I can show you,” she began, but you and Mapi both shook your heads simultaneously. 

“No. You won’t show us anything. We’ll take care of you.” Mapi corrected. 

It was the first real demand that either of you had made, and Ingrid reacted on instinct, grabbing Mapi’s neck in a way she normally loved, before she seemed to remember herself, and froze. 

“Amor.” Mapi said, her eyes locked on Ingrids. You knew she was talking to you, though, and you knew exactly what she wanted. In the time it took you to get off the bed, grab the restraints from the drawer, and return to the bed, Mapi had Ingrid on her back, one of the defender’s hands holding the Norwegians wrists tightly above her head. 

“Really, María, you are going to tie me up?” Ingrid asked sarcastically, clearly thinking that her perfect girl didn’t have it in her. Her body radiated defiance, and you knew then that this would be more difficult than you’d been anticipating. While Ingrid wanted to let go, had agreed to it, getting her to actually go against her instincts was always going to be difficult. 

Mapi was quick to correct this defiance, though, her hand gripping Ingrid’s jaw as you began to tie the woman’s hands to the bedposts. “I will do what I want, and you will listen.” 

Ingrid still didn’t look like she was taking her girlfriend very seriously, and she was shocked at the way Mapi suddenly yanked you closer. The Spaniard grabbed you by the back of the neck, pulling you towards her. You were both leaning over Ingrid’s extended legs, a fact that she was viscerally aware of. 

When Mapi pressed her lips to yours, you could tell she wasn’t completely over her frustration from earlier, and that she was only putting it aside for the sake of the woman underneath you. You knew, too, that she would also benefit from taking control, and you let her completely take over the kiss. She tilted your head back to get a better angle, absolutely ravishing your lips, kissing them, biting at them, pushing her tongue into your mouth, until you were breathless just from her ministrations against you. 

“Mapi, I want her,” Ingrid said lowly, both of you clearly able to feel her burning gaze. You pulled away slightly, as if to move down to the Norwegian, but Mapi shook her head, pulling you back in until her words were whispered against your mouth.

“Eres mía. No de ella.” Mapi told you. 

“Yours,” you agreed easily, returning Mapi’s soft grin

“María,” Ingrid complained, now fighting the restraints on her hand, clearly very unhappy with being ignored. 

“Tan impaciente.” Mapi rolled her eyes, but leaned back, pushing you down towards the apex of Ingrid’s thighs. “Come.” 

Eagerly, you pulled Ingrid’s shorts and underwear down, tossing them without regard off the bed, before you buried your face in between her legs. 

“Yes, there,” Ingrid sighed, relaxing slightly back into the bed as you licked at her. You knew what Ingrid liked, and you knew what Mapi wanted from you. To build her up fast, and pull away, just as fast. You supposed the Spaniard was somewhere near the bed, getting the strap on, but you were much too focused on the task at hand to think about anything else other than the taste of Ingrid on your tongue, and the way her wet heat dripped for you. 

You focused on her clit, gently taking it into your mouth and suckling, before returning to broad strokes over her entrance. You added two fingers, her walls stretching easily to accommodate. It was only when she tensed under you that you opened your eyes, glancing upwards to see Mapi kneeled by the Norwegian’s head. 

“Open bebita,” Mapi told her. Ingrid looked frustrated to say the least, but allowed Mapi to press the strap into her open mouth. “Que buena,” 

The praise evidently did something to Ingrid, because as you returned to focus on her core, you could hear the wet smacks and light gags as she took Mapi’s length into her mouth. 

“So pretty with my cock in your mouth, sí?” 

Mapi’s words only turned Ingrid on more, and she only grew wetter as you continued to work her up. You focused your mouth up to her clit, flicking your tongue over it rapidly, fucking your fingers into her hard, using your free hand to hold Ingrid’s hips down against the mattress. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” she mumbled, releasing Mapi’s cock with a loud intake of air. And although you were slightly shocked by how fast this had happened, Mapi didn’t seem to be. The Spaniard seemed to know exactly what she needed to do to get Ingrid where she wanted her. 

Ingrid let out a groan from deep in her throat, and you heard Mapi shush her lightly. You could visualize what the Norwegian looked like, saliva smeared across her face, Mapi’s hand laced through her hair, and it only encouraged you. 

You didn’t forget what you and Mapi had discussed, though, nor did the consequences of disobeying slip your mind. So, as Ingrid’s hips jerked against you, and you could feel her muscles begin to tighten, you pulled away, grinning down at her. 

“No no no NO, elskling come back here. Now!” Ingrid whined, her eyes flying open as she glared up at you, a warning clearly evident on her face. And even though it went against all of your instincts, you looked away from her, towards Mapi, a shy smile on your face. She met your look with a grin, before refocusing her attention back on Ingrid. 

“Do not complain, cariño, we are just getting started.” She warned quietly, before she guided herself back towards the Norwegian’s mouth. Ingrid wisely chose to remain silent, looking up at her girlfriend with lust in her eyes as Mapi began to fuck into her mouth. 

The Spaniard pushed in far, shushing Ingrid quietly when she whined in complaint and squirmed slightly. “Just take it, bebita, be good for me.” 

At this, Ingrid began to bob her head back and forth as well as she could, a new look in her eyes as she let Mapi fuck her face. You were rather worked up from watching up until this point, and you took your opportunity when Mapi threw her head back, grunting softly as Ingrid’s throat put pressure on the strap, and by extension, on her own center. 

What little Ingrid had appeared to submit up until this point disappeared instantly when you pushed her leg to bend slightly and straddled her thigh. Ingrid loved nothing more than to watch you get yourself off on her, especially when she could tell you when to stop and wait, and when to make yourself come. This wasn’t one of those times, though, as she was quickly reminded when Mapi pulled her attention away from you and the slow grind of your hips against her leg. 

“Is she distracting you? Do you want to watch?” Mapi asked, feigning softness, though Ingrid didn’t seem to pick up on that. 

“Yes, want to watch her,” Ingrid replied breathlessly, her jaw aching slightly from the position it had been in. 

“You heard her, mi niña. Give our girl a show.” Mapi slid down to lay next to Ingrid, beginning to work marks into her neck. Ingrid was almost unaware, her attention completely captivated by you on top of her, steadily working yourself towards an orgasm. Her legs were muscular, and you’d found the perfect spot to rut again, the friction causing you to speed up, and causing slightly breathless gasps to leave your mouth.

It was an unusual sight for the brunette, though, to see you so lost in your own pleasure, taking what you needed without looking to Ingrid for some direction. It wasn’t entirely welcome, and your girlfriend felt the need for the control rushing back into her body. She tensed under you, and under Mapi, pulling at the restraints her hands were in. 

You were getting closer and closer, rocking yourself back and forth against Ingrid’s thigh, showing no signs of stopping. Mapi didn’t seem to be interested in stopping you either, her attention completely focused on Ingrid’s neck. The Norwegian tugged at her restraints once more, before she spoke up. 

“Elskling, not yet” she instructed, frowning when you completely ignored her. She wanted you on her mouth, or riding her fingers. She wanted to directly make you come, when she wanted you to, and not a second sooner. She needed the control, she thought, ached for it. 

It was submission that she really needed, though, you and Mapi were both sure. Even more sure now, having seen how her body relaxed at Mapi’s possessive and bossy words, and tensed when she tried to regain control. 

“Shit, María, can I?” You asked, directing the question towards the Spaniard. 

“No.” Ingrid replied, at the same time as Mapi gave a resounding ‘yes.’

 “Relax, mi amor. Let her make a mess on you.” Mapi whispered, her words a warm breath on Ingrid’s neck. “Do you feel how wet she is? I can see it from here.” 

“Fuck, Ingrid, you feel so good,” you cried, your head dropping forward until your hair hid your face, your hands bracing yourself on Ingrid’s muscular abdomen.  

“She is going to come on your leg, Ingrid, and you are going to let her.” 

“I want to taste her,” Ingrid whined, using a tone of voice you were sure you’d never heard from her before. 

“No.” Mapi told her simply, pulling away from Ingrid to watch as you fell over the edge, your body spasming against Ingrid, low whines falling from your lips. 

And as you collapsed onto Ingrid, so did something in the Norwegian. When she looked at your other girlfriend, it was with a completely new expression on her face. 

“María, please fuck me,” Ingrid whispered, “I’m dripping for you, baby, please. I need your cock,” 

Mapi bit back a smile at Ingrid’s filthy words, knowing she had the younger woman just where she wanted her. For the moment, though, she ignored Ingrid’s begging, tilting your head from where it was resting against Ingrid’s chest so the Spaniard could meet your eyes. 

“You did so well, mi niña,” Mapi cooed, rubbing her thumb softly over your cheek bone. You smiled lazily up at her, feeling Ingrid squirm unhappily under you. 

“María,”

“Shh, cariño, be patient.” Mapi replied condescendingly, her eyes not flicking up to Ingrid’s. “Do you want a reward, mi amor?” 

“Sí, por favor,” you replied almost breathlessly, looking up at María as if she was the only other person on earth. Ingrid felt something she wasn’t used to feeling. Jealousy. She wanted both of your guys’ attention on her, craved it deep within her. It was so unfamiliar, it was almost uncomfortable, and she let out a quiet whine almost accidentally, her body jerking up into yours. 

“Ingrid,” Mapi scolded lightly, finally turning her gaze on the midfielder. “You have to be patient.” She was enjoying this, the almost alternate universe that she found herself in. Ingrid begging her was something that never happened, and Mapi relished it. 

She reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the small vibrator she’d set out a few minutes prior. With both of you watching, she slipped it inside of herself, holding the remote in her hand as she pushed the harness back in place. 

“I will give you my cock. If you make our girl come before I do, then it can be your turn to come, vale?” Mapi rasped, lips lifting into a slight smile at the determined glint that lit up Ingrid’s eyes. 

Nothing else needed to be said, enough talking having been done for the moment. You maneuvered yourself up Ingrid’s body, turning around so you were facing Mapi, and hovering over Ingrid’s mouth. She strained her neck up, trying to reach your soaking pussy, while you stayed just out of reach. 

It was only when you saw Mapi click the vibrator on, and saw Ingrid’s eyes flutter shut as the Spaniard pressed into her, that you lowered yourself down. 

Ingrid had very clearly taken Mapi’s challenge to heart, because even as she gasped and groaned against you, she was clearly working hard to work you up fast. And it was working. It was just that Mapi remained pretty much untouched up until this point, and her sensitivity exceeded yours. 

The motion of fucking one of you always got her, too. The grind of her hips, watching the strap disappear into Ingrid’s cunt, the feeling of the harness pressing against her just right. It was all so perfect. 

So while Ingrid fucked her tongue into your clenching pussy, her nose brushing against your clit, Mapi fucked Ingrid languidly, slowly, casually, all the while the vibrator inside of her was pushing her closer and closer. It wasn’t enough to get Ingrid very close, but you and Mapi were right on the edge. 

Ingrid fucked her tongue into you frantically, able to tell from the way you grinded down on her face that you were close. You were fighting it, though, your eyes on Mapi, willing yourself to let her beat you, like you’d discussed. 

It was hard, made harder by the sight of Mapi with her head thrown back, small groans leaving her mouth, one of her hands toying with her nipple. You held strong, though, holding back until you were almost in tears, until moan after moan tumbled from behind your lips. 

Ingrid was furious under you, feeling your muscles clench around her, knowing exactly what you were attempting to do. 

Mapi grew more vocal, though, and you reached out, squeezing tightly to her hand as the Spaniard came. 

“Sí, sí amor,” Mapi cried, and with that, you let yourself go, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you. It wasn’t a particularly strong orgasm for Mapi, which was lucky, because she was able to catch you as you pitched forward into her arms, shying away from Ingrid’s punishing and overstimulating touch. 

“Ingrid, your mouth, jesus,” you whined, feeling Mapi’s chest shake under you with silent laughter. 

“Neither of you are playing fair.” You heard Ingrid complain. Mapi eased you down onto the bed next to the Norwegian, and you forced your eyes open to take in the sight of the woman next to you. 

Ingrid’s face was flushed, covered in your wetness, her dark eyes glaring up at Mapi, who only smiled down at her, situating herself in between the Norwegian’s legs. She released Ingrid’s hands from the restraints, but pressed them into the pillow above the brunette’s head, making it clear what she wanted.

“Neither of us agreed to play fair, mi amor.” 

Without further warning, Mapi pressed herself deep inside of Ingrid, bottoming out in one smooth stroke. 

“Fucking-María,” Ingrid cried, her eyes slamming shut at the sudden influx of pleasure. 

“Do I feel good, niña bonita?” Mapi asked, her hips beginning an unforgiving pace as she fucked into Ingrid.

“Yes, so good,” Ingrid gasped. Her hand blindly reached for yours, and you grabbed it easily, very happy to watch as Mapi took her to pieces next to you. 

“Do you want to come?” Mapi asked breathlessly, although the answer was rather obvious. Her eyes were fixed on Ingrid under her, not wanting to miss a single second of the normally so strong willed woman pleading for her. 

“Yes, Mapi, you know I do.” Ingrid replied, somehow managing to sound annoyed and incredibly turned on at the same time. 

“Beg.” Mapi instructed, her hand coming to rest over Ingrid’s throat, her fingers pressing in lightly, just enough that Ingrid felt it, and just enough that her head fell back, and her body quivered under the Spaniard’s. She readjusted her legs, giving her a better position, and began to jackhammer into Ingrid, knowing precisely where to press her cock. 

Ingrid forced her eyes open, staring up at her girlfriend, as if trying to tell if she was being serious. She could hardly think, not with the way Mapi was fucking her. And when you began to brush your fingers through her hair, cooing sweet words into her ear, she knew she was done for. 

“I can’t take any more, María, please, I need you, please let me come, I’ll do anything,” Ingrid whined, her words broken up by moans and stuttering breaths. 

“Good girl,” Mapi promised, making sure the words were spoken in English, so they had the full effect. With that, Ingrid came, hard. Harder than you’d potentially ever seen her come, until her body was writhing against the mattress, her mouth open in a silent cry. 

Mapi worked her through it, as you pressed kiss after kiss to the side of Ingrid’s face, pulling her easily into you when Mapi finally pulled out. 

Ingrid’s body shook against you, quiet whimpers leaving her mouth as she finally got the release she didn’t know she needed. As she finally let go of all the stress she’d been hanging on to. 

Rather hastily, Mapi tore the strap off of herself, the vibrator removed carelessly, both items tossed off the side of the bed. The Spaniard pressed her bare body up against Ingrid’s back, so that the taller woman was squished comfortably in between the both of you. 

Ingrid seemed to be at a loss for words, only able to hold on tight to you, and tangle one of her trembling legs with Mapi’s. 

“You were so good for me, amor,” Mapi whispered, “so pretty for us.” 

Ingrid let out a deep breath, relaxing even more into your body. You kissed the side of her head easily, tangling your finger’s with Mapi’s where they rested over Ingrid’s body. 

“Thank you,” Ingrid mumbled, her face still hidden away in the crook of your neck. 

“Do you feel better?” You asked, running your fingers through her hair. 

“Better. So good.” Ingrid sighed, still clearly a little fucked out. 

Mapi chuckled behind her. “Good, mi amor. Rest now, okay? We can talk later.” 

And with the promise of a conversation, as was necessary in any healthy relationship, Ingrid let herself drift away for a bit, her body completely devoid of stress for the first time in weeks. 

-----

i admittedly did not proofread this

thinking a second part [who is shocked! who!!!!] where the trio have a conversation about taking care of ingrid, and mapi and r spoil their girl. fluff and a little bit of angst vibes. it that appealing? or should i leave it here? can't decide <3

[faerievampling]

The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort

Summary: These are my random head canons about Ascended Astarion and his vampiric bride, Tav/Durge. What would it be like to actually spend eternity with him?

Warning: 18+, mention of sex.

After the ascension, Astarion is so overwhelmed with all his new abilities that he is a bit distant. (Think Lazslo Cravensworth in that one episode of WWDITS where he barely speaks for two weeks all because he’s trying to make a decision about how he is going to reorganize the library) This lasts for nearly a decade, but once Astarion adjusts to his new body, he is able to come back to himself.

Once you are Astarion’s spawn (bride), he no longer needs to mask when lovemaking. He knows you will never leave him. Your lovemaking goes through many 'phases', from being loving and tender to beastly and rough. But either way, he is raw with you, and only you.

Every night, without fail, your vampire curls up in your arms, holding you tightly as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep or reverie. He can’t fall asleep without being in your arms, or vice versa. 

You, his most prized treasure, are far too vulnerable during your rest, and he insists on being as close to you as possible, with a dagger close by, of course. Over the years, he never relents. If you two are ever apart, which happens so rarely, maybe once a millenia, he spends the night sleepless and aching for you.

One of the first things he does once the tadpole is gone is hunt down Haarlep, if you made a deal with him. He wouldn’t allow his treasure to be violated and used any longer.

Astarion’s possessive love for you only grows as the years creep on. 

Sometime during your third century of marriage, Astarion stabs the eyes out of (and allegedly kills) dozens of men and women who he deigned to have violated you (and thus, disrespected him) by looking at you lustfully. It takes two decades of you begging him to stop before he finally relents.

Ask me anything, and it will be yours. On his own time, of course, which you have so much of. You become a very patient vampire.

Astarion certainly values your life and his, but not others. You have to remind him, lest he lose his humanity completely. And you, as well, have to make sure you have a tight hold on your own humanity. You are a vampire, after all.

Watching your friends pass one by one is difficult, and Astarion supports you through it all, despite him not particularly caring about them himself. He cares about his consort, and he does everything to make you comfortable while you grieve. This is where your humanity starts to slip, when your friends are gone from your life for many years.

If you are able to reverie, you aren’t able to actually look through your memories because of your undeath. The years stretch on so long, you nearly forget how the story began at all. But you always have Astarion, and he does his best to help you both remember.

Astarion never takes another consort or another independent lover. The two of you enjoy threesomes and orgies occasionally, but Astarion prefers it to be just you and him. Astarion did particularly like to watch you get fucked by other men and women. But this changes sometime during your first century of marriage. Astarion demands to have his consort and only his consort in the bedroom. He ultimately doesn’t trust anyone else to be intimate with him. He doesn't want anyone else to touch him. You don’t protest the decision.

Astarion creates regular vampire spawn, more for utility than anything else.  He always asks your permission.

After a thousand years, you and your Lord are inseparable. You are not to leave his sight. 

He is very powerful, and has become a threat and a target. The two of you rarely speak aloud anymore as your mind connection is so strong that your minds are melded together. Your relationship is beyond spoken word. As Bride and Master, you are unsure where you begin and he ends. 

Eternity is a very long time. Astarion agrees, but he never wants to die, and he certainly will never let you go.

In your old vampiric age, the two of you strike fear into every mortal you come across. You can't help it. You are both so hauntingly beautiful and pale, and your intense mind connection makes most mortals believe you to be...absent. Oh, how the sheep forget themselves.

Yet your need for blood is so small now. They needn't fear you, not really. You now only drink from Astarion, which gives you what you need. He loves it, being your life essence. 

He doesn't let you drink too much, of course. During your fifth century of marriage, Astarion wants you to feed on him and only on him, as his contempt for others grows and his possessive love for you begins to cause him his own bout of madness.

This causes you to go mad, and Astarion is entirely distraught until you are healed. He spends an extravagant amount of money and a long time healing you.

With the last of your friends dead, you forget to view the mortals as anything but the puppets of your Master. The ways of the world as you knew it slip by you. There is a war, Astarion tells you, but you have no fear. You know he will protect you.

You often go into a vampiric hibernation as you sit on your throne during court. Astarion is still able to put on the mask, but you cannot. Astarion wishes you would try harder, but he also understands.

Even after so many years, Astarion’s body craves you. You are certain you are addicted to each other. You wonder if it is a result of your vampiric marriage. 

He pleasures you every night, and you pleasure him; you cannot remember what sex was like before your undeath, but you know that nothing feels as good as when Astarion makes you come. 

Halsin is the last of your old friends that you can remember, as he lives to be nearly a thousand. You do your best to remember his face, but it slowly starts to slip away from you. 

You feel sad about these things, at times. Astarion cradles you, both your body and your mind, and tries to assure you of your gift. Eternity.

Part 2!!

Masterlist

[bobbin-buckley]

Hi! Could you write some jealous gp!caitlyn headcanons? <3

G!P Caitlyn Kirammin Headcanons

G!P Caitlyn Kirammin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: G!p Caitlyn, basically just headcanons and smut but fluff too, jealous Caitlyn, all mentioned! breeding kink, public sex, praising, orgasm denial

Caitlyn

You

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

-To start off with, I’d say she’s packing a lot. She’s big. I would say at least seven inches

-For awhile Caitlyn never told you that she was ‘different’, than other girls for awhile even when dating. She didn’t want to scare you off or anything, honestly she was a bit insecure about her size. To you was it too big or too small?

-Now after having sex with her for the first time, you felt like you were on top of the clouds. With how big she was she could reach pretty deep in you

-When Caitlyn heard about your past dating experiences, she was pretty jealous that other people have dated you before her. So every time you guys have sex she’s all about making you hers, pounding deeper without thought

-Her hands grip your hips possessively when she makes deep thrusts, she wants to claim you.

-There have been times where she’s admit about wanting to breed you, which really turned you on

“Cmon baby, take it.”

“You can take this big cock right? Fuck you’re so pretty under me..”

“Maybe I outta’ stuff you with my cum, breed this pretty pussy.”

-When you both went to a party together for the first time, you were wearing a pretty revealing outfit that made her rethink the decision of bringing you to that party. She knew damn well other people’s eyes would be on you

-She was right. Lots of men and women were eying you, all dreaming to fuck you but Caitlyn would never even let them talk to you. She was surprisingly possessive, but you found it hot

-After a couple of hours at the party she couldn’t handle it anymore, it surprised you she waited that long.

-Throughout the party you had teased her, talked to other men and women. That bulge growing in her pants whenever you did something that turned her on. She hates it when you put on a show for others

-One time you nearly did a strip tease to someone else because you were drunk af, she dragged you away to a bathroom and fucked you out of jealousy. You’ll never forget that night

-Now after a night of you teasing her, making her jealous and desperate she’ll either fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, crying for her to stop. (Obviously she’ll stop once you give her the red light that it’s too much). Or she’ll deny every orgasm and have you make her cum instead

“Such a slut teasing me in front of everyone, you think you can just show off to everyone?”

“Mmhh…make me cum baby, and maybe…maybe I’ll let you cum too.”

-During a family meeting, you were talking with her mother for most of the time. It was very typical of Cassandra to be questioning you and talking with you the entire family party.

-She was jealous of how your attention wasn’t on her, thankfully she was wearing a dress so her hardening cock wasn’t visible. That’s how jealous and desperate she was

-Now you weren’t always the one being punished, she would get punished by you from being so impatient

-The first time that happened, you’ve never seen Caitlyn so…submissive. She may come off as a silly but concentrating woman when it comes to being an Enforcer but damn she’s honestly so hot as a bottom when she is

-Teasing her swollen tip as you tell her how bad she’s been, how she should be more patient next time.

-Your lips tease her tip too, licking it and chuckling when she whimpers for more

-Sometimes if you’re nice enough you’ll ride her but it becomes slowly and painful as you deny her orgasms when she’s close.

“See who’s the desperate slut now? How does it feel being denied?”

“Nuh uh, didn’t say you could cum just yet.”

“D-darling please…I-I’m sorry,”

“F-fuck…wanna cum so bad..”

“Not yet, cupcake.”

꧁~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~꧂

[agneswarda]

golden girls is so amazing i even made a powerpoint

(I copy-pasted the main text under the cut. unfortunately, I can't find the time for a proper alt text. life is stressful rn)

-Picture it: Miami, late 80s/early 90s. four 60+ women

-living together.

-Sure, they talk a lot about (straight) sex

-but what we see on screen is their dynamic. Their deep friendship. Their love also they often act quite gay with eachother. amazing

-Did i mention they are old. They are old and deal with getting sick and aging. A lot.

-But their life isn‘t over. They might not be related. But they are family, and they are here for each other

-These four women are the Golden Girls.

-You are in for a treat. A 7 seasons 25 episodes long treat

Introducing the girls: Dorothy Zbornak

-not to be a lesbian but omg

-Tall soft butch

-quick-witted

-sarcastic

-her voice *swoons*

-would make numbers on tumblr

-> her idea of a good time is being Alone wiht a book in her room

-> Huge dorky nerd

- Being vulnerable is not her strength but when she is It‘s amazing. Soft. makes me cry

Introducing the girls: Blanche Devereaux

-slutty

-sexy

-selfish

-sensitive

-Sensual

-Did i mention slutty

-And proud of it

-All these things are her strenghts as well as her weaknesses

 -She is actually quite complex

Introducing the girls: Rose Nylund

-Sweet

-Loving

-Kind

-caring

-Everyone says she‘s Dumb

-I think she might just Be neurodivergent?!??!!!! With her special interest

-Being St. Olaf

-The place she comes from

-Has amazing st olaf stories for everything

-Can also be a judgy bitch sometimes

Introducing the girls: Sophia Petrillo

-SHE WOULD MAKE NUMBERS ON TUMBLR

-„You're a funny little gnome, and we feed you too much.”

-This quote describes her perfectly

-It’s Dorothy who says it to her

-Who is incidentally her daughter

-Trickster energy

-Don‘t know if she is gay. But she commits crimes

-It‘s her way of dealing with old age

-And all the limitations it brings

-The show would just be half as funny without her

But op. Is it really this good. It‘s so old

I will admit: not everything aged well. Be also prepared for:

-it‘s v white. If they have characters of color, they sometimes work well. And sometimes it‘s embarassing to watch bc harmful stereotypes (not often but yeah. It happens.)

-Bodyshaming: the girls tease each other about their height, weight etc. and sometimes it can really become a lot/too much.

-Rose is so often the butt of the joke for not understanding situations. I think a lot of neurodivergent folks can relate. And it can hurt to hear the same old mean comments again and again

BUT

-This is a series which was never afraid of complicated topics

-First and foremost: the queer advocacy and topics were and still are amazing. The found family of it all alone.

-Also: death,being sick, being disabled. Getting old. Not performing the gender The way one would like to (anymore) (so. yes. Dysphoria. In a way). The financial aspect of it all. These are important topics which are treated with humor (of course) but also with respect

-it‘s a kind show which has its heart in the right place

-And i mean

-4 old women who are „just“ friends living together, supporting eachother?

-That shit is still revolutionary in the year of our lord 2024

So give it a chance!!!!11!!!!!111

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Love your work ♡♡♡

I was thinking about a bull hybrid könig with a cow hybrid reader... (let's be clear not furries lol)

They both live at a farm and könig can't interact with the cute cow girls cause the farmers are worried he'll loose control and breed them all, so he can only look at them from his stable while they frolick in the fields, fisting his cock while he watches them giggle..

But then, good news! The farmers decide they want new calves, so one day könig wakes up and instead of being all alone like usual he finds his dream girl besides him, shyly telling him that she's there to be bred (bonus points if she's a virgin)

CW: my humble attempt at hybrids lol... big chested reader, (forced) breeding, voyeurism/third party watching, dubcon from both sides, fluff if you squint. 18+ MINORS DNI

The first thing König sees is her smile and bright eyes, long lashes that are cast down the second he manages to make her flustered with his stare. They’re both naked – he because he likes to sleep naked, she because… well, he doesn’t have a clue why. But his cock embarrassingly shoots up when he sees her breasts, large enough to provide milk for an entire array of babies if need be.

To his knowledge, no one has been allowed to breed his beautiful cows. He calls them his, even if he’s never seen them close, his lovely, calm women who love to bask in the sun and sometimes chase each other on the field of greenery. He likes to think they play pretend that a bull like him was chasing them, a cattle he’s trying to mount, because they giggle and run as if it was the greatest fun to be chased around in the fields.

And there’s no way they haven’t seen him watching them from his pen. It’s triple fenced to keep him from bursting out and breeding every single cow he gets under him, and they're right to be afraid because his cock is always swollen and leaking, pushing forwards and up to deliver his seed deep inside a waiting womb.

But right now, he doesn’t have to chase or fist his angry cock at the sight of the giggling women clearly in need of a good, hard dicking. Right now, he gets to examine this demure, naked girl right in front of him, clasping her hands in front of her from shyness, round breasts squishing adorably together as she does that.

The conversation that follows is intoxicating and perverse – she asks if she can touch his… that. Nodding to the dangerous sight that is his towering, twitching cock, he’s proud to present it to her fully. It’s leaking and jutting up in all its glory, and it’s only natural that she’s intrigued. He agrees on one condition: she can fondle his cock all she wants if he gets to massage her teats in return...

She looks helpless for a while, but nods eventually, taking a soft step forward. Soon, he feels a soft hand around his girth, running up and down his veined, bumpy length. There comes some hushed, adoring comments about how huge he is, and more precum leaks out, but he can’t even return the compliments, fixated on her breasts as he is. They’re heavy and plump but don’t lactate which means she has never been bred. He even tries to suck them to confirm this is the cause, making her shudder and cry from how fiercely he tries to suck and tug at both her nipples.

This crusade only ends in him spilling too soon, with sudden, thick spurts that make her yelp again from surprise. She’s holding his long pale cock in her hand, staring at the cum shooting out from the tip with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

These cows are such simple creatures, innocent and a little dumb, soft and carefree in their naivety. But he’s more disappointed with himself, wasting perfectly good seed just from a few licks and sucks at her jugs.

“That was not supposed to happen,” he grunts when she’s still staring at his throbbing cock like it’s the most amazing thing she's ever seen.

“Oh,” she whispers. “What was supposed to happen then…?’

He looks up at his silly, simple cow, and smiles darkly.

“All of that was supposed to go inside you.”

Her big, wide eyes blink, long lashes bat slowly and consistently from horror and awe.

That’s when the master of the farm barges in, stares at the scene for a moment, and then starts to yell at them.

He left them alone for a few minutes and there’s already wasted semen on the floor??

The cow is yanked away from him, her tits swollen, red and heavy from his mouth. His cock never refuses to land, it only stands up, knowing there will be more action soon to come.

The farmer complains about how much money he paid for a big breeding bull like König, only to have his stupid cow milk all the seed on the floor. They both get yelled at, called stupid and useless, and the poor, helpless girl is told to get on her knees for the bull.

He’s presented with something even better than a pair of big, round tits – he can’t even begin to get angry at the nasty pervert of a farmer. He simply can’t because his adorable meek cow is perfect, absolutely perfect, with her throbbing hole up in the air like this. It’s swollen and glossy, making his cock jerk and bounce with urgency, and the mounting happens without him even thinking about it.

The farmer sighs when he sees his bull’s first attempts at breeding. Scoffs and waves his hand in the air as König probes and prods with his cock for far too long, trying to hit the right hole while the girl is whimpering from fear and want under his heavy weight. His already seed-covered cock finally slips in, and the poor thing under him screams and shudders.

He barely remembers anything after that.

It’s both a nightmare and the most beautiful dream he’s ever had, finally getting to mount and breed a wanton cow. The mating is hurried and compulsive, his hips do their best to get another load of seed out as fast as possible. The girl trembles and moans under him, her big breasts bounce and jiggle with every thrust, and at some point something incredible happens.

The farmer is yelling again – he’s supposed to breed the cow, not give her an orgasm! – but he doesn’t care, he just continues to rut and huff and snort and grunt, bellowing loud and hard as his seed shoots forth.

His pretty little cow is shaking, trembling by the time he’s finished with the breeding, all his strong seed safe and plugged deep inside of her. She sniffles and pants under him, whines and sobs, whispers that it feels so good – and then she’s pulled away from him, led out of the pen, forced to leave his cock.

She barely gets to glance back at him with wet, glossy eyes, asking for his help, no, pleading for it. Those big, vulnerable, defenseless depths will haunt him forever, the love and affection in her eyes so vast that a few, tiny drops of cum push out of his cock just from that hopeless look alone.

They don’t even let him cuddle and hold her after, she’s being escorted away like the cattle that she is, and even if they brought him a hundred big breasted cows to breed he would never forget those eyes and that face.

He’s all spent, weak from breeding like his life depended on it, but these people truly underestimate the strength of a bull. He draws air through his nostrils like a tempest, and starts a riot like nothing else.

He destroys the whole pen in the process, nothing left but splinters of wood and some barely intact poles. The farmer is unrecognizable by the time he’s done, and his cow has fled further away, clearly afraid of him and his sudden unleash of power.

But she doesn’t flee when he goes to her.

No: her lips are pressed tightly together, her eyes still wide with awe and wonder, but she doesn’t run away like most scared cattle would do. She’s his now, and she knows it, only awaits for advice on where to go next. She will follow him wherever he goes, like a wild beast who knows her mate will keep her safe and lead her to abundant pastures: somewhere far away where their offspring can live a good, free life.

[menlove]

one thing that adds to credibility of Paul being closeted imo, is that often he is thought of as having this internalised homophobia, if not homophobia itself, because he always mentions how un-gay he is whenever some gay subject comes up in interviews

but like, there are so many things that disprove him being homophobic, it's not even funny. going to Paris alone with gay men? Paul did that two times (three if we count John lol) and that Peter Brown story is incrediblyy suspect. what homophobic man, scared of gay, sits on the bed of his male employee and his male fling that casually late at night in his hotel room and chats them up?

most likely reason, combined with his incredibly suspect lyrics, is that he is so defensive about his sexuality because he has something to hide

THATS WHAT IIIIIM SAYING!!!! like he is so comfortable w gay people and gay culture which on its own isn't suspect but it Is when people insist he's homophobic as a Reason He's Repressed Not Closeted. and once again I must remind everyone that john nearly beat a man to death for calling him gay and was still undeniably queer.

it's just like. imagine for a moment. with me. everyone hold my hand. not claiming this is true but walk w me along this path to get to current paul that isn't "he's just repressed and stupid and doesn't even know he's bi" but is instead MY speculative timeline (somehow this turned into a mini fic or something god help me but I'M SO SERIOUS IM SO SERIOUS THIS WOULD MAKE THE MOST SENSE TO ME WALK WITH ME HOLD MY HAND)

you are born in the 1940s. you are raised by a strict man who was physically abusive & in a culture that hates gay people. you grow up watching people get killed for being queer and being bullied over your feminine features that people think make you queer. you hit puberty and Shit Gets Harder because you start finding other men hot. elvis, for one! when you're 15 you start seeing a boy around that you think is hot and it turns out he's in a band and you fall in love with his looks and his voice and then him. and he's just as insane about you. you start doing increasingly sexual things together. eventually, you're having a full blown sexual affair. while writing love songs together and growing up together. and then he gets his girlfriend pregnant. and marries her. and you lose him, a little bit. he goes off and has an affair with your gay manager & when he gets home he ruins your birthday party by nearly beating a man to death for bringing it up. you wonder what he'd do if anyone found out about the two of you too.

and then the insane happens and you end up The Most Famous Band In The World. the ENTIRE world is watching your every move. the entire world loves you. they wouldn't love you if they knew. you get a girlfriend and it's convenient because she's always gone and you're always alone. but you still have him. and other girls. through everything, you have each other. even when he says something stupid and the world wants all of your heads on a platter and he starts to fall into a depression, you still have each other. even if now you Know how bad it could be if they ever found out. and then your manager, your father figure, an openly gay man, dies. and it's not a suicide, but a lot of people think it is, and sometimes you wonder, and fuck it's terrifying, isn't it? the reality of your life, the reality of loving Him, the reality of being queer. what if that winds up being You? you start to lose Him a little bit more as you throw yourself into your work and push everyone way too hard. you propose to your girlfriend. and then you do lose Him. to a woman. which was sort of unthinkable because he was already married and never cared about her, just you. never cared about any women, just you. but he cares about Her. and you fucking lose your mind. lose yourself in drugs. blow up your engagement. propose to another girl and many more "jokingly". your one girlfriend says you had to try again or you would have gone "raving queer" and killed yourself. the whole time you're losing Him more and more. suddenly he's looking at Her like he used to look at you. you're no longer his world and what the fuck do you have? a bunch of girls you don't care about and a drug problem? and then you meet a woman who, according to you, is more woman than anyone else. she's a mother already, a family ready made when you've always wanted one. she's smart and she's funny and she's quick and you let yourself cling to her because you don't have Him and he has Her so you've got to have someone, don't you? and she winds up pregnant and that's great, that's wonderful, you're no longer in danger of dying alone and queer and sad. you've lost Him by now completely, even though you have about a month where things feel a little less awful again and you perform together one last time. you marry her and you ASK people, flat out, if they expected you to be a 26 year old unmarried queer. you fight the night before you're married for some unknown reason, so badly she almost leaves you. and then He marries Her, and everything is fine. and then it all falls apart completely. you at least had Him as your friend, your writing partner, the other half of you legally. and then he asks for a divorce. and the world ends. you don't have the band, you don't have Him, you don't have anything. you stay in bed all day, drinking, miserable. like a breakup, not just of the band.

eventually, your wife pulls you out of it. you survive. you start writing again. you write to him. you put two beetles fucking on the cover of your second album and he thinks a song you wrote about your wife's ex is about him (and maybe it is, a little) and he shoots right back. and you keep that up for a decade. writing to each other. seeing each other only in the news and in snatched moments together where nothing is the same as it was. you plead with him through your music: why do you hurt me so bad? call me, pretty baby. I'm waking up screaming over you. I can't tell you how I feel. you try and make things like they were, even a little, showing up to his house with your guitar like you're 15 again, but he sends you away. in all that time, he's basically gone to conversion therapy. he's with someone who makes disparaging remarks about his sexuality. for you, you've let yourself embrace being a bit campy, but you still can't bring yourself to be open about any of it. not with anyone but your wife.

and then you start talking again. you make up. things seem hopeful. it seems like he might still love you and he writes you a song about starting over with you. and then he's murdered. and it's senseless. it's so so senseless. and it's unfair. you lock yourself away for days listening to that song he wrote you. the media tears you apart for grieving wrong. they wish you died instead. they think you're cold. you never loved him, not like he loved you. you write a song, with tear marks on the page, telling him how much you DID love him. all the things you'd say to him if he were there with you. you write more songs about that, all centered around that theme. some of them you say are about him. others you don't. once, you say if anyone catches on you can just deny it. but he wrote you love songs too, apparently, for you, and you eventually record them with your old band

and the thing is, You are one of his widows. his name follows yours every time it leaves someone's mouth. he's all anyone ever talks about with you. he's all you want to talk about too. his legacy is your legacy. he's no longer here to tell people about his sexuality, he's no longer here to consent to everything that you were being told. he's not here. and how can you even begin to mention Your Own sexuality without bringing him up? you owe him more than outing him in death. you owe Her more than that too, because you were already cruel to her and so was the world. she's grieving just like you, you can't do that. your wife dies, and now you're her legacy too and you being queer would seem like a betrayal to her. your best friend dies, and now he's your legacy too. you aren't just you- you're Him, you're 1/2 of the living members of the most famous band to ever exist, you're Her, you're your dead wife

so when someone asks you about him. when someone asks you about being gay or calls him the love of your life. What Exactly Are You Supposed To Say?

I wouldn't say shit either

[richardsgraysons]

exes

prompt — dick grayson has a lot of exes. you don't want to be one of them.

tags —  just overall softness after a period of inactivity <3

you've seen them before. there's kory. she's tall and pretty with green eyes and golden skin and curly red hair that turns into literal fire. she's six foot tall and looks like a damn super model with her six pack and toned arms.

she's sweet and kind and understanding and forward. she's gentle with everybody, and treats everyone the same. she's a literal goddess, and you're sure that he would've chosen her as his future wife.

there's babs. now, if you didn't think he'd fall for kory, he would've definitely spent his entire life with her. how could he not? childhood best friends who've known each other since they could crawl. they've been out in crime together. you opt to stay in and not risk your life, and pray that he comes home safe every night.

she's got flaming red hair. she's not as tall as kory, but she's plenty tall enough. she could be a supermodel if she wants. you're pretty sure she's the toughest person you know. you know she's been shot by the joker and paralyzed for several years, and she's still never lost faith in her ability.

dick's often joked about his red hair-girl kink, and when you self consciously look at your own hair, which isn't flaming red like the girls he's adored, he wraps his arms around you and says, "aw, honey! you not having red hair is just proof i love you for you!"

there's bea. you've seen her only once. when he was ric grayson, and still trying to figure out who he is, she was there for him. she's beautiful, blue locs and sharp intelligent black eyes. she's refused to see him after finding out who he is, and he grows soft when he remembers what happened both.

and the huntress. god, the amount of women that have fallen in love with him isn't fair. helena bertenelli is savage, tough, quick, ruthless. everything you want to be. all the women who have fallen in love with him are unique in their own wright, a modern masterpiece.

but he loves you.

and you're sure he does, because when he comes home from patrol, he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck to show you that he's here, he's real.

he does the dishes and the laundry even though he has vigilante duties that night. he kisses you and says "i love you" even when you argue. he never raises his voice.

when you're too tired to do things, he gives you cuddles, even if he deserves them more than you do. he holds your hand in public. he shields you from the invasion of paparazzi.

when you fight, he spends all night trying to figure it out. he makes sure you have date nights no matter what. he blushes when he speaks to you. he stumbles over his words sometimes. his pick up lines are so cheesy that they make your heart sore.

they're just exes. his past.

you're you. his future.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Separate ‖ | © scribblesofagoonerr

pairings: leah williamson x jordan nobbs x separate reader!buddy x chaos fc reader!monkey

summary: buddy is reunited with monkey, and there up to no good already.

here's the start of the cross over nobody asked for but i wrote anyways, featuring everyones' chaotic fc reader, monkey.

also thank you to @alotofpockets for putting up with me sending my ideas for this and word jumble.

Sure enough with a bit of encouragement, you slowly came out of your shell enough to move to sit in Leah's lap and get in all of the cuddles that you had missed throughout the last week.

Until you hear the front door open, and you knew who it is straight away.

"Ello'? I'm home!" You hear your favourite person shout aloud and your quick to jump up from Leah's lap and race towards the front door, "Where's my favourite little buddy?" She asks.

"Here I am!" You all but launch yourself into the arms of the older girl.

"There you are!" Monkey exclaims, squeezing you gently as she spins you around in her arms, "I've missed you loads!"

"I've missed you too!" You can't help but giggle as your lowered back onto the floor, "Look! We're doin' Lego!" You pull her in the direction of the lego blocks scattered on the floor where you had left Leah and Jordan in favor of Monkey.

"Aw, wow! So you like the lego set, huh?" Monkey grins as she slumps down on the floor and your quick enough to drop down into her lap, the two older women completely forgotten about now that your favourite person is here.

"She's been waiting for you to come back," Leah states, smiling at the pair of you together.

Monkey gasps dramatically before she beams a wide smile, "You have? Well I'm here. Where've you been?" She asks, tickling you under your ribs.

"I went on holiday with my mama, silly!" You exclaim, bursting into a fit of giggles right there, "Where you been?" You wonder, curiously.

You know Leah and Monkey went somewhere, but you can't exactly remember where.

Or if you were told, you didn't really listen much to it.

"Oooh right, of course you did!" Monkey facepalms herself and you can't help but laugh again, you sometimes think your favourite person is the funniest person in the world, "I went to Nashville and I was in my cowgirl era. I even had a lad try hit on me and I told him to kiss my--"

"Monkey!" Leah exclaims, cutting the girl off, "She's 3, she doesn't need to hear that!" She scolds her, which you find it even funnier.

Monkeys' always known to get herself into trouble, sometimes you're corrupted and like to join in with her as well.

It's even more fun when Kyra comes to visit as well.

The three of you have so much fun!

You find it funny sometimes when you watch Leah and Kim tearing their hair out with your favourite person.

"I wasn't even gonna say anything," Monkey holds her hands up in self surrender, smirking at Leah.

You look at Leah to see her giving Monkey one of her usual stern facial expressions. You see it happen a lot, but never usually directed towards you at least.

It's always Monkey.

"And just like that we're forgotten about," Jordan jokes, seeing you happy enough again with being in the company of monkey, "I should probably go." She suggests to Leah, knowing it's the easier option that wouldn't lead to tears.

Leah hums in agreement as she watches you and Monkey together, "That's probably a good idea," She replies before she turns to look at you, "Mamas' gonna go home now, Buddy. Shall we go and say bye?" She questions.

You nod and scramble up from the older girls lap to throw yourself directly at Jordan's legs, "Bye, Mama! 'Ove you!" You exclaim.

"I love you too, my little Buddy," Jordan crouches down and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead, "Be good for your mummy, okay? No getting led astray either." She tells you, glancing in the direction of your favourite person.

"Accusations. False accusations!" Monkey screeches loudly and dramatic, which of course makes Leah roll her eyes in response, "I don't know what yer' even talkin' about there!" She insists, shrugging her shoulders.

"You and I both know what I mean," Jordan remarks, chuckling at the older girl as she ruffles her hair, having the height advantage being stood up while Monkey is still sat down.

"Pft," Monkey scoffs and stands up off the floor, "I'm still an inch taller than you!" She insists, smirking at Jordan.

Leah shakes her head at the antics of your favourite person, "That's enough, Monkey!" She states, firmly before the older girl can continue to wind up Jordan any more, "Stop being a menace, go and do something productive!" She tells her.

Monkey pouts and slumps her shoulders, "I'm bored though and I can't talk to Kyra because she's asleep still!"

"Kyra!" You squeal at the mention of the Aussie girls' name, "I wan' talk to Kyra!" You insist.

Leah gives Monkey a pointed look, "See? Look what you've done now," She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Oops," Monkey gives the blonde a guilty facial expression.

"I wan' speak to Kyra!" You insist once again.

Shaking her head, Leah turns to look at you, "Buddy, you'll see Kyra when she comes back home, but you can't talk to her because it'll be night time for us when she's awake." She explains.

"I wan' speak to Kyra," You whine, not entirely understanding the whole aspect of time zone differences.

"Ooo, Buddy! I know who we can talk too!" Monkey perks up with the idea as she grins at you, "How about we go and talk to Lessi instead?" She suggests, hoping that you'll agree to that.

"Lessi!" You cheer excitedly, forgetting about the Aussie women for now.

"Yeah, Lessi!" Monkey repeats before she sweeps you up into her arms, "You wanna go fly around the house?" She wonders, knowing exactly what you like and don't like.

"Yeah! Yeah! Fly!" You squeal in delight, squealing even more as Monkey balances her hand under your tummy and you're in the air within seconds.

"All aboard Russo airlines," Monkey jokes, making fun of the blonde for her celebration, "Neeeeeawww!" She makes the noise of a plane, running through the house with you in her arms.

"Don't drop her, Monkey!" Leah and Jordan both shout in sync, almost both of them having heart attacks seeing it happen.

"Sounds like you got your hands full there," Jordan remarks, shaking her head.

Leah chuckles slightly in response, "I'm not sure who's more of a handful at times," She replies.

"Definitely Monkey," The older women out of the two replies, grinning at her ex-girlfriend, "Right, I'll be goin' then. Her teddies in the front pocket of her backpack if she wants it."

"Thanks," Leah nods in agreement, "I'm sure she hasn't asked for it yet when she loves that thing." She adds.

That thing that Leah was referring to was Mr. Bear, a stuffed brown bear that was gifted to you from your great-grandma and ever since you got him, you carried him everywhere with you, even going as far as almost dropping him out of the window one time and Jordan had to stop the car and jump out to retrieve him to save any of the tears.

"Yeah, me neither," Jordan agrees with her ex, "And her blanket, if she needs it is--"

"Jord, don't worry. I've got it, Leah interjects, chuckling slightly at her ex girlfriend, "She's my daughter too, remember? I can figure these things out."

"Yeah, of course, sorry force of habit," The older women out of the two gives her ex a sheepish smile and nods, while shoving her hands in her pockets, "Ehm, I'll be here on Friday at 2 to collect her for the weekend then." She tells her.

"I'll see you then," Leah nods curtly, opening the front door to let Jordan out, "Safe drive back."

Jordan smiles slightly at Leah, "Yep, thanks. See you on Friday." With that, she waves at her ex girlfriend before she departs down the driveway and climbs back into her car for the long drive back home.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[fadelbison]

Branded Pairing Heteronormativity and the Subtle ways that First and Khaotung Spill Outside Those Outlines

Right off the bat I'm going to absolve myself of all culpability by saying that this is a solicited opinion so all anon hate can go to @kattyangel 🤣. The second thing is that this is an opinion that will talk about very nuanced subjective topics like heteronormative standards and conventional attractiveness in a country I'm not even from so go into it knowing that even subtle shifts in worldview can change the way we perceive these things. My only claim to fame here is that fan service is my hyperfixation and I have watched at least couples compilation videos of all GMM branded pairs but for the vast majority of them have watched shows/vlogs/interviews fairly extensively. So without any further ado let's get into what the connection is between First's height and his pairing's inability to perform heteronormativity well. A branded pair has two main ways of connecting to heteronormativity. One is via the individual's connection to their audience which at this point we know is majority female with some degree of romantic interest in men. Second, is via the dynamics of the couple itself.

For example, the ideal pairing is someone who's individual unit BOTH seem like they are interested in women but when put together can also believably fall into a 'top' and 'bottom' role. The categories of 'top' and 'bottom' here follow from the yaoi 'seme' and 'uke' narrative traditions but its less about who penetrates or is being penetrated and more along the lines of who's 'the wife and who's the husband' which is just a confusing mix of relative closeness to femininity, perceived dominance and certain physical features like height/resting bitch face and skin color.

The vast majority of branded pairs fall under this paradigm at GMM: GeminiFourth, TayNew, BrightWin, JoongDunk, PondPhuwin, ForceBook and the recently officially divorced Ohmnanon.

If the individuals have a strong connection to heteronormativity themselves, but fail to perform it with each other then they tend to fail like PerthChimon. So what happens when individuals within the unit aren't that straight to begin with? If at least one can perform traditional masculinity then they're in the clear! Famously, OffGun are husband and wife like no other and I hope they and Off's voodoo dolls of him and Gun prosper for the length of their lives. This format of pairings is not that common in GMM but litter the industry quite a bit, Zeenunew and MaxNat are pairings I'm quite familiar with that follow this.

What happens when both have low affinity towards traditional masculinity (especially in the way they interact with fans) or they're a little too queer in their dynamic for heteronormativity? Well that leaves you with *my* favorite pairings: EarthMix and FirstKhaotung But they're challenged in slightly different ways. EarthMix's primary dilemma comes from the fact that they're very likely actually dating and gay couples sometimes just won't have a heteronormative dynamic. Mix has always rebelled against being 'bottom' and he's usually the one refusing to play this game. Earth on the other hand just with his natural old man tendencies still fits into the top/husband role well while Mix can be pigeonholed into bratty wife/bottom when push comes to shove. But oh my poor sweet First, born with the personality of a man who's at least 5 inches shorter than him and obsessed with his idiot best friend who hated being the good little wife during his PoddKhao era so much that he really came into Firstkhao with his arms swinging like 'never again'. First and Khaotung have their personalities and aesthetics switched. Khaotung is both the more effeminate of the two and also the more dominant. If you've been following their dynamic since The Eclipse then you will know immediately what I'm talking about. So much of The Eclipse fan service felt like they were playing out top and bottom in reverse and then just remembering that First is indeed Too Tall for this to ever work lmao. I'm struggling to think of a single pair other than PerthSaint where the top was shorter let alone a full 4 inches. I mean fans nearly staged a coup at an event to have them renamed Khaofirst and I feel like they had come so close to convincing First too 😂 They've changed a lot now and Khaotung has cooled it, maybe to be more helpful to First but primarily because I think he's discovered that being the bottom in this dynamic comes with added benefits of being a sugar baby princess who gets waited on hand and foot. But First is also a sugar baby princess which is why he says things like 'I'm trying to be cool' or doing something macho and then immediately undercutting himself with a nervous little 'Was that cool?' or whining at fans to stop flirting with Khaotung instead of having a possessive lover dialogue like Phuwin's little 'you can flirt with him but he needs my permission to flirt with you'. First is performing machismo slightly worse than the 'bottom' of a different pair like what can I say askdjkfhdjh

Firstkhao are doing husband and wife well on stage nowadays but I think in less practiced formats they will revert to their original dynamic and First's 'top' persona breaks often. They hit a besotted wifeman equilibrium for First sometime during only friends and that kind of works for them both and I think they're trying to stay there for the most part. But that's what people who like First and Khaotung like. A vast majority of lesbians fall under the category of besotted wifeman so I mean it's really working out for me. It's just that sometimes it's a little painful seeing First try so hard to be more like Kant in RL and I'm just like babygirl please you're fine your friend over there looks like he likes getting fucked in the ass no matter what you do but alas 😔 Meanwhile every time Khaotung acts like a naive little helpless baby it feels like he's taken another step towards nirvana.