blueywrites

[blueywrites]

mood

[blueywrites]

time for some post-mission ghost I guess

[blueywrites]

You can either take it easy, take it personal, or the secret third thing: Both. That's where you assume that whatever someone said, they meant it as an insult, but you don't respect them enough to care about their opinion of you.

[blueywrites]

Lowkey socially inept ghost who has NO CLUE just how horny reader is for him😔

You've pulled out all the stops, complimented his outfits, pointed out how tall he is, how warm he is. Fuck, you even compared hand sizes! But nothing! Ur pretty sure hes just dense, bc its not like hes rejected you yet, just nods along with whatever you say but he doesnt *do* anything!

You learn that ghost has a bad back and send him sex positions designed to reduce back pain, nothing but a thumbs up. Its not even you that ends up telling him, gaz sees you offer chapstick after *just* applying some and he denies it. He cant take it anymore, watching u is becoming actually painful.

"Ghost, mate, she wants to fuck you." He says blunty, dodging the indignant slap aimed at him "preferably sooner than later." Gaz gives you both a firm pat on the shoulder then walks away.

....anyways ghost ends up railing u into the mattress and u learn that u just need to be blunt with him. From then on you either drag him to ur room or say it to his face, only mildly embarrassed abt being so bold but the dick is worth it.

[blueywrites]

There's a gaz/ass/gazz joke in here somewhere if I was witty

[blueywrites]

I just imagined a creature that would scare you soooo bad dude

[blueywrites]

I know this is a very “same shit different day” idea coming from me but

I’ve not been able to stop thinking about being Nikolai’s painfully shy, sheltered little house kitty hybrid. And of course he loves you more than anything, he’d give you anything in the world. You have a lace ruffle collar with a sweet little sterling silver bell because otherwise he’d keep losing you in the house— so quiet and withdrawn when it comes to anything and anyone that isn’t him. But there’s one thing he can’t give you, something he knows would be perfect for you—

He wants to see you round and cute with kittens.

So he’s looking into getting you paired, but of course he won’t trust just anyone around his precious kotonek. There’s only one person he knows who has a cat hybrid— and that’s John. His cat, Simon, happens to be terribly socialized, surly, and notably doesn’t get along with other hybrids. In fact, he doesn’t get along with most humans either. But he’s extremely well trained— so Nik decides to give it a chance.

You already know something is strange when Nikolai leashes you. He never does that— not unless he’s afraid you’ll run off. Which means something scary is about to happen. At first you think it might just be John— though, he’s one of the only people who you let pet you. Then, you see the massive frame of the scarred up hybrid coming in behind him, leashed as well, and your tail bristles. True to form, you do twitch and shudder, but you know you can’t run.

“Milaya, you remember John. This is John’s hybrid, Simon.”

You sniff the air, and you remember this scent. Nik placed a blanket in your bed that smelled a little strange a few weeks ago— you regarded it cautiously but eventually were able to settle against it, which he took as a sign you’d accept Simon. If only you’d know what happened at John’s house— how Simon had smelled the pillowcase from your bed just as soon as John was in the house and nearly tore it from his hands, stealing it off to his own bed. He buried his teeth and face into it, taking the scent in deep and tugging at his cock until the frilly thing was covered in his cum. Price sent a picture to Nik immediately when he found the evidence.

“Think he’s got a crush on her, Nik.”

Now, Simon’s looking at you like he wants it straight from the source.

[blueywrites]

Here's a thought for y'all based on that last reblog:

Getting Simon fishnet stockings and a hoochie mama skirt as slag gag gifts. Simon doing you one better and trying them both on. Can't contain those big fucking muscular thighs of his; there's rips and tears everywhere and the less said about how that skirt rides up his slutty waist, the wetter.

Simon doing his big one, manspreads nice and wide for you, skirt rode all the fuckin' way up, giving you a nice view of his barely contained cock and balls and torn tights, and he makes you ride his thigh. That's it, sweetheart, ruin his shit even more.

Get 'em nice and wet for him.

[blueywrites]

You ask Soap if you can eat out for dinner. In hindsight, you realize (as he has you bent ass up on the bed as you squirm and writhe under his straining, brawny arms, his tongue slick against your back hole) the beaming smile he gave you should have been a warning in of itself

[blueywrites]

anyways, been thinking about mer-ghost who 'rescues' you from a shipwreck, depositing you some thirty feet from a sandbar, only to let you nearly get to shore and then drag you back to sea, 100 yards away, letting you go again.

it's a game- he lets you swim almost all the way to shore before dragging you back out and letting you go, over and over and over again until you're too exhausted to continue, thinking he's just going to let you drown out here so he can pick your bones clean-

it's not until he hauls you back to the shallows and bullies his way between your thighs that you realize what it is he was truly wearing you down for. you can't fight him off, couldn't even pick yourself up to run even if he let you. all you can do is stare up at the sky, lie there and take it as he slides his inhuman cock out of a slit on his body and starts rubbing it against your folds.

[he'll keep you trapped there as his little plaything for as long as you can survive. he brings you things back from the shipwreck- barrels of preserved food and bottles of rum, even some waterlogged mattresses and clothes- all in exchange for letting him use whatever hole he decides he wants to stretch out over his cock that day]

[blueywrites]

Lord!Johnny who detests the lot he’s drawn in life. He has no patience for propriety, for decorum. He just wants to be free— that’s all. To enjoy life and live without worry. He doesn’t realize how good he has it.

He fools around with you, one of the ladies in waiting, a respected member of the royal court. Cornering you in empty halls to kiss your neck and ruck his hands through your skirts.

You don’t want to deny him. Having his attention is nice. But you’ve told him before that you want to be courted properly— for this to be real.

And scoffs. Isn’t this real enough? You enjoy each other. That’s not anyone else’s business. Why ruin a good thing by playing some silly dating game for the pleasure of everyone else in the court? He likes things the way they are— free and easy. Enjoying you without any of the harsh expectations.

Enter Lord Riley, who was not born into this life. He earned his title, his lands, everything— through tears, sweat, and bloodshed in service of the crown. Men of such valiance are often offered to choose their reward, and he wants to be able to court any lady of his choosing. The other ladies are terrified— his skull mask and brooding demeanor, the lives he ended— not to mention the knowledge that he’s common born.

You don’t particularly care. Men have their reasons for doing such things. And you’ve found men born into wealth and titles are nothing spectacular themselves. So it should come as no surprise that he picks you out. And it seems he’s done his research.

Despite not being much for conversation, he is a perfect gentleman. You wonder if he would’ve treated a peasant girl so gently— and you have the feeling he would. He meets you at least once a week, has tea brought to the garden for you to sit with him. Your first kiss is in the hedge maze, backdropped by rose bushes. His hold on your waist was firm— like you were something he couldn’t bear to lose.

Needless to say, Johnny isn’t happy. You’ve been turning your nose up at him when he tries to pin you, batting his hands away from your skirts. Doesn’t take him long to find out why.

“So, some bloke with a scary mask waltzes in and suddenly yer done with me? Ah thought we had a good thing going, pigeon—“

“Maybe we did, but I’m not going to fool around while I’m being courted.” You know he hates that word.

“What’s he even got that ah don’t? I make ye feel good, don’t I?”

“He might marry me. That, and a million other reasons.”

“Marriage— what good is that? It’ll just tie ye down, bonnie, ye don’t wan’ that—“

“I do. I’m not like you, Johnny. My fortune won’t care for me forever. Men can get married as they please, but women— I only have so much time before no one wants me. Don’t you see that? And don’t try to tell me whatever was between us was going to be permanent. You would’ve left just as soon as someone else turned your head. That’s who you are.”

At the same time Johnny feels his heart start to bleed, Simon puts in a commission with the jeweler.

[blueywrites]

two characters: flirty banter, clearly getting off on the power dynamics between them

people who are scared of going to hell for masturbating: he loves him like a son

me, hauving covid: can he call him that while they fuck

[blueywrites]

anodyne but closer

[blueywrites]

This may be the worst use of LLMs anyone has attempted, ever. Up there with recognizing mushrooms.

[blueywrites]

Bystander Intervention Training

so, the US just attacked Iran, and that is fucking terrible. Something we all need to think about right now is how we can stop the harassment and violence against Muslims and Arabs in the US that got so much worse in the early 2000s from happening again to people now.

To that end, I wanted to share some resources on Bystander Intervention. One of the biggest things I learned from training like this is that there are many ways to intervene, and they don't all involve putting yourself in front of the person who may harm you or others. It's ok if you feel intimidated by that because there are more ways to help! And once you do the training, it might not be so scary.

Right to Be has Bystander trainings based on the 5Ds of Bystander Intervention (Distract, Delegate, Document, Delay, and Direct). The trainings are free!! sign up here.

I took one of their trainings a few years ago (when the org was called Hollaback!) and it was really very good, they have trainings at multiple levels and focused on various topics. They also partner with other orgs to focus on specific issues (like anti-AAPI harassment and with CAIR Chicago for anti-Muslim harassment, etc.).

Here are a few more resources:

APA Bystander Intervention Tip Sheet

RAINN Practicing Bystander Intervention

I think I'll sign up for one as a refresher.

[blueywrites]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i liked problematic tropes

[blueywrites]

I’ve been thinking a lot about fantasy/medieval settings and arranged marriage….

Gaz is not excited for your union because he anticipates being forced to choose. He expects that only one Kyle may live— the devoted husband, or the devoted comrade. And of course, vows dictate that he choose the former. That he leave battle behind as soon as you wish it. That his brothers in blood no longer be given indefinite roam of his estate. That you will look upon them with disdain if they take his attention away from his marital duties— his duties to you, to your family and future. No wife wants her household to be as a tavern, with soldiers coming and going as they please and making merry late into the night.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You take great care in weaving a new cord— binding for his sword hilt in the colors of your family crest and his. You take up careful pride in the maintenance of his armor— scolding him in his delay to bring it to the smithy for restoration. You perch on his lap and sip mead and wine from his cup while he and his squadron tell tales late into the night— if their welcome has worn out after many weeks, you certainly don’t show it. In fact— when they all return weary and lonely of touch from the soft hands of a lady when their tour is over, you take no issue bringing them comfort. Kyle is pleased to see you on your knees, back, and stomach for men whom he would lay his life down for, and think of him in kind. His only condition being that only your lord husband can finish inside of you.

Johnny is not excited for your union because betrothal means one thing to him: chastity. He’ll not be able to wet his cock until your wedding night, and knowing his luck, you’ll be like the other prudish ladies of the court— only willing to lay supine and serious out of a sense of duty, to provide his heirs, and never purely for pleasure.

He feels his heart could burst from his chest with simmering love, heated to the surface and about to boil when he feels your fingers drift over his crotch during a dinner following your engagement. When you grope and squeeze, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. When every garden date in the rose maze ends with your skirt hiked and him on his knees devouring you while your thighs shake. When you sneak in during a long bath in the middle of the night, having just returned from a weeks-long battle, sitting to face him in his lap and grinding the lips of your hot cunt against his twitching cock while you scrub his bruised and soiled skin before angling him to enter. If you were to be blessed with a child a little early into your union… who would be the wiser?

Price is not excited for your union because he isn’t looking forward to being lovelorn in his own marriage. He’s the type of man who falls easily, he knows— but noble women are cold, especially to an older, battle hardened man they’ve never met before in their lives. He knows the love will come between you, but he anticipates months or years before he will win your unwavering trust, attention, and affection.

He finds himself pleasantly surprised when you curl into him at the feast following your wedding. Your chair moved to be as close to his as possible, leaning against him and sighing in bliss. You cutely fiddle with the rings on his hand while you wait patiently for him to feed you another bite of fruit, kissing his cheek in gratitude and nuzzling your face into his neck. He can feel your mirthful giggle vibrating your lips against his skin. The night you share is nothing short of ecstasy, and he wakes to your head on his chest, legs tangled together.

Simon is not excited for your union because he knows what he is. A low born bastard. His success in the king’s army has seen his rank rise, his title, his means— but it hasn’t changed what people see him as. A violent boar, born into mud. When Price secures a match for him and insists he accept, he has no doubt that you’ll sneer in his direction like the rest of the noblewomen.

Only for him to hear whispers on the day you arrive at court. Fitting, that they’d offer up a bastard to a beast. Suppose they were desperate to have her married off. What a perfect match. You looked down in shame, afraid to meet their gazes. You looked every part the noble lady— well groomed, good posture, dressed delicately and elegant… but nothing would outshine the circumstances of your birth. Father a noble, mother a common scullery maid. Suddenly, Simon cannot bear the thought of letting you tread these waters alone. He wants to take you from the world that judges you, and keep you tucked somewhere safe for him to admire.