#and is huge and uncomfortable and extremely visible

[thevioletcaptain]

the next customer to ask me "what's wrong with your eye?" is getting thrown into the sea :)

[frogchiro]

Slasher!Ghost is making me feel feral. Him being so big and muscular, absolutely towering over the cute little reader who comes in for meat. Another man hitting on you as you’re in the shop, leaving Ghost seething and wanting to kill the man but not wanting to scare you. He wants to be your everything so badly. I can just see him being SO over-protective and possessive

Butcher Ghost is extremely possessive!! Like, I' talking resource guarding you even if you two are not together yet :((

He's extremely strong and masculine too; standing at 6'4, his broad shoulders, thick waist and strong hips, legs and bulky arms make for a burly and intimidating man, the look completed with the white butcher's apron that is usually stained with blood so no one in their right mind would go against him. Like when he chooses his victim there is literally nowhere to run and that's the terrifying thing about it; he may be huge but he's very fast and agile too so you may do whatever and he's still going to catch his victim.

And yet all he wants and desires is to have you call him your husband, cuddle with you in that cute warm home of yours, your new, chubby baby cuddled close and feeding from you peacefully while he supports you from behind :((

So you can only imagine the white hot rage he feels when he sees some guy flirting with you right there in his shop, his territory, and making you visibly uncomfortable but you still smile weakly and try to get out as soon as possible, it's done. It's over.

He knows now that his next victim hanging from the rusty meat hook in the freezer will be that miserable cunt who made his girl uncomfortable.

[lexirosewrites]

That post about Steve getting bitched and still having a huge cock gave me brain rot so here's this. (This got so long my B)

After Steve gets bitched he is extremely self conscious about the size of his dick. His doctor said it was possible, but rare, for the penis not to retract to typical cocklet size after the transition. The doctor says surgery is an option, but it will take Steve years to save up for the procedure so he resigns himself to (still) being a little uncomfortable in his body for a little longer.

Steve doesn't have sex for almost six months after his transition. His hormones need time to balance, he's sore for almost a full month after, and he doesn't necessarily trust anyone around him that he's attracted to not to comment on his dick. The knot is gone, but he doesn't feel like he looks like a "proper" Omega still.

One night he goes out with Robin and meets a friend of a friend who's very pretty and who's aura and sent are incredibly calming. They flirt a little, Steve doesn't think he's ever met someone as chill as Argyle, and they head back to Argyle's place to have easy, fun sex. Argyle makes him feel confident, and he never coments on the size of Steve's dick like he's always worried people, and especially Alphas, will.

Afterward, Argyle says that Steve is "totally bodacious" and explains that him and his best friend (Jonathan) run a small but successful queer skin magazine, and would he be interested in doing some photos with them? At first Steve is shocked, even brings up the whole Giant Penis thing, doesn't really think many people would be into that, but Argyle gives him a comically sincere look and says "oh yeah my guy. People are gonna love it."

So Steve says fuck it. He doesn't have regular work right now and Argyles figure for the first shoot is more than fair. They hammer out details that night. Argyle doesn't date their subjects, which is a little disappointing but not heartbreaking for Steve. And Steve doesn't want his face to be published anywhere. He's also not sure about having sex, wants to focus on single person shots.

Steve figures he won't have much success, but to his surprise, the issues featuring Steve are the ones they sell the most copies of. He didn't know it at the time, but the first shoot be did with them ended up being used for the next month's cover page. It was a rather simple shot, more nude than he thought he'd get at a first shoot but Jonathan and Argyle made him feel very comfortable. He's standing in front of a dark, non descript couch, completely bare. His hands are clasped behind his back. He had been swaying forward and backward on the balls of his feet looking very much like a Good Boy eagerly waiting for direction from his Dom. And, of course, his pussy had been slicked up with artificial slick and a little bead of artificial precome was just being to slide down his length. Seeing the photo, Steve began to feel confident in his body for the first time in a long time.

So, he kept working with the studio, making good money on the side of his other gigs.

Photos of Steve in panties that do nothing to cover his dick. Photos of Steve from behind on his hands and knees, pussy slicked up and dick visible from between his legs. Eventually, a photo of Steve with just the tip of his cock in another Omega's pussy. They didn't really have sex, which was Aokay with Steve since it still felt uncomfortable with having sex someone for work purposes, but he was particularly fond of those photos, thought they turned out really well.

All the shoots were still artfully framed or cropped to omit Steve's face though.

Of course, unknown to Steve, local Alpha Eddie Munson has been hoarding his pictures like a greedy dragon. Eddie has been a long time subscriber to the magazine, but he's never come so hard in his life as he did to that first photo of Steve. The pretty pussy, the perfectly placed moles and freckles, the HUGE fucking cock. Eddie's never wanted an Omega to fuck him so bad in his life, or want to fuck one so hard for that mater. His absolute favorite is one of Steve's earlier pictures. It's simple, Steve reclined back on his elbows, knees bent and open to show off his panty clad pussy. There not just any panties though, they're female Omega/Beta panties. They cling to him like a second skin and barely cover the first two inches of his dick, making it look even bigger than it already is. Eddie buys five copies.

One day, they run into each other at the grocery store of all places. Eddie accidentally bumps into Steve, causing him to drop his basket and blow up his tomatoes. Eddie is already getting ready to apologize to the stranger when Steve turns around and Eddie is faced with the most beautiful Omega he's ever seen. He immediately starts tripping over himself to help him replace anything broken in his basket and once they get through check out asks if he can take Steve out after they drop their groceries off at home. Steve, absolutely charmed by this Alpha's looser energy and leathery sent says yes.

Yadayadayada they have a fantastic date and decide to take it back to Steve's place. Things are getting steamy but as soon as Steve gets his shirt and pants off Eddie immediately knows who he is and comes in his half unbuttoned pants like some kind of pavlova response because Holy Shit. He's so embraced for shooting off and also completely mortaphied at the prospect of telling Steve he's been hoarding his pictures like a creep that he panics and bolts without a work.

By the time he's back home Eddie is absolutely kicking himself because the man of his dreams was literally RIGHT THERE and he screwed it up! Steve, of course, is incredibly disappointed. He felt a real connection witn Eddie and because be didn't say anything, he's pretty sure Eddie got freaked out by his body and literally ran for the hills

Of course they find each other again and Eddie apologizes profusely and begs for the chance to court Steve. Steve is a little nervous but he says yes, especially once Eddie explains why he freaked out and assures him that he doesn't want Steve to stop. He even comes to a couple of the shoot, acting as an unintentional fluffer for Steve.

Eventually, Steve stops doing it as often as he finally finds a stable job as a climbing instructor in town that he loves, but he never stops completely. He loves the confidence it gives him and thinks it's fun! It doesn't hurt how much his mate loves his pictures too.

OMFG THIS IS SO HOT I CANT😩🥵��🤯🫠😮‍💨

[assexpansion]

Accidentally making your girlfriend's mom grow instead of her and trying to hide/cover it up

You nervously swiped the keycard to the hotel room door. Decently loud music and moving shadows on the bedroom's neat furniture met you.

"Hello? Pam? It's me, just me. You can come out." You called into the room.

Finally, you saw a black curved shape about 5 feet high crest the corner. Dread filled you as you recognized the ball to be your girlfriend's mom's new tits, entering the hallway before she did. Then, there she was in all her glory, smiling beautifully with her extreme porn-star tits and a hand on her hip.

"Just you, huh? Well, isn't that a shame?" She asked in a flirty, sarcastic tone.

She wobbled back into the room, leaving you dumbfounded. She wasn't supposed to look like this! The growth hormones weren't meant for her! You pulled at the uncomfortable stiffness forming in your pants as you tried to figure out just how much trouble you had caused. You followed her into the room. Pam eyed herself up in a mirror, adjusting her top to expose more of the huge, taught spheres. She swiveled around and eyed her figure up with a carnal vanity. Finally, she stooped low and swept her fingers up her exposed cleavage as if savoring just how fucking big her breasts were.

"You know, I don't think my daughter would have appreciated these as much." She said absent-mindedly. "I've been considering a breast-lift for a few years, but this... is so much better."

She emphasized her point by turning to you with a hand under each tit. She removed her hands to let them fall, but the pale globes barely drooped. You gulped as sweat began to form on your brow.

"But... y-you know we have to k-keep it a secret, right?" You questioned her, lining up behind the mirror so you could take in her preening.

Her eyes met yours in the reflection. "A secret? Why would I keep these hidden?"

"Because..." You began.

"Because they were meant for someone else?" Pam asked, smiling back.

You had seen the effects beginning while picking up her daughter for a date, how her shirt was a little too tight over her C-cups. Then, when you went to drop her off, Pam was sporting full-blown, firm F-cups in a red negligee. Now, they looked twice that size.

"Yes." You admitted sheepishly.

Still holding your gaze in the mirror, she carefully pulled down her shirt. More and more cleavage seemed to billow into existence as she stretched the collar. Finally, her swollen nipples, reddish and visibly throbbing, poked out.

"I wonder... if that matters... anymore." She breathed out in pleasure every few seconds while rubbing around the angry tips of her exposed tits. "And what... would my daughter say... if she caught you... and her big-boobied mom... in a hotel room together? I wonder."

You couldn't tell if you were being seduced or blackmailed. Either way, your cock was annoyingly stiff and you tried to discretely hide it by letting it run down the leg hole of your boxer. Her eyes shined.

"And if my flat-chested daughter isn't around to take care of that. I wonder who could?" She asked, turning around to face you, still teasing the ends of her huge tits.

"This whole... debacle has gotten me so... pent up. So if you promise... to let me drain you." Her eyes flickered to your poorly hidden cock. "I'll stay inside, wear whatever sweaters can hide these. I'll even fake sick so no one will know... for however long that'll last."

Pam continued, slinking toward you and fondling her now-pointed nipples. "I'll do it all. Hide these... from the world. For just... a taste."

Your member was practically popping out of your pants, so it was a no-brainer to free it, especially when she made an offer like that. She unceremoniously dropped to her knees, tits wobbling like hell, and greedily mouthed the tip of your cock. Spittle hung from between it and her lips as she pulled away in delight. Pam looked up at you.

"Our little secret, right?" She whispered, hefting her breasts up so your penis was squished between the two spheres.

You nodded in submission as she began to suck your tip and work your cock with her tits. You were already so close, but she kept going.

"Our little secret." You whimpered as you came.

[luveline]

Can we get like a roan trying to make reader and Eddie make up after they have been visibly upset at each other (but like quiet arguments/none that roan heard)?????

thank you for your request my love! dad!eddie x fem!reader

You and Eddie don't fight a lot, so when you do it's always over something serious. 

You're sitting in the kitchen with tear stained cheeks trying to put pep back in your step before Roan wakes up, a huge cup of orange juice in front of you and a caffeine pill beside it. You argued pretty much all night, and now it's morning, and you're heartbroken. 

The good news is that the fight is for the most part solved. You're trying not to think about it, residual anger and annoyance and a third, awful something coiling in your gut —Eddie being against you is the worst feeling in the entire world, bar nothing. You can't stand it, and perhaps it's slightly codependent to function that way, but he's the person you love most (beside his dark-haired daughter). You're mad at him and you're also so fucking sorry you upset him, and you hate yourself, and you dislike him a little bit too. 

He's drinking a cup of coffee on the other side of the table. You've made up, but you certainly aren't friendly. If you don't tell each other everything it gets worse and festers into cracks you don't want in your relationship. You plan on dying with him, whenever it happens, he's gonna be by your side. If that means being honest to the point of extreme uncomfortableness, so be it. 

So he told you some things about yourself that had been weighing on him, and vice versa. Fights are fights are fights. They suck no matter what they're about, and they leave you feeling grubby, but Eddie always says sorry, and you say sorry too. 

Roan starts to wake up, the sound of her bed springs creaking from a floor away. You and Eddie both stand like you might go get her, which is foreign 'cos most of the time you sit at the table waiting for her. You pretend you'd been meaning to make her breakfast and Eddie curls his hand around the top of his chair as she descends the stairs and walks down the hall to the kitchen.

"Hello," Roan says, practically skipping up to the table. "Good morning! I'm missing one of my socks and um, think it fell down my bed." 

"Yeah?" Eddie asks. 

"We'll find it," you say. 

"Good. What's wrong?" 

She's deceptively smart. 

"Uh, nothing," Eddie says.

Roan climbs up onto her chair with the big cushion. She looks like she might fall. Eddie puts his hands around her waist to prevent any concussions, popping a kiss on her pale cheek. 

"It's too quiet," she insists. 

You flick on the radio and pass over a bowl of cereal for Roan. She likes something Eddie nicknamed 'rainbow cereal', which is all the cereals you buy mixed into one bowl. It doesn't need sugar, but you pretend to put some in there to keep her appeased. 

She stays standing. 

Eddie asks her to sit, and she grumbles and doesn't bother. Sometimes it's better to let her do whatever harmless thing she wants to do rather than start a fight, and you're both clearly much too tired to try. Eddie holds her waist and drops kisses into the top of her head intermittently. You sip your orange juice until it's empty, the radio chugging along in the background. 

"Did I do something?" Roan asks, four spoonfuls in, a frown on her little face. 

"No, baby, we're just tired. Why do you think you did something?" 

"Why are you tired?" she asks, ignoring Eddie's question. 

"We stayed up later than usual by accident. 'Cos we didn't have someone put us to bed." 

"Ask Wayne," she says. She takes another mouthful of cereal, milk sloshing all over the place. 

"Good idea. We'll ask Wayne," you say. 

She's convinced for a time, but breakfast ends, and neither of you know what to do after. It's a Saturday, which might explain the size of the argument. Friday is the most tiring day of the week, every week. Saturdays are empty. You might go see Wayne tonight, but beside that there's nothing planned. 

Roan senses a lack of enthusiasm in the living room.

"Did something bad happen?" she asks. 

"Baby, no," Eddie says, turning down her cartoons a touch. "Nothing happened, I promise. Everything is okay." 

"I don't feel well," she says, and collapses into his lap dramatically, instantaneous dead weight. 

She doesn't understand the anxiety she's feeling. You understand at the very least, so you meet Eddie's eyes and mouth, "Can I tell her? No details." 

He nods. "Sure," he says aloud. "If you want to, go for it." 

He speaks without attitude. You slide closer on the couch, arm pressed to Eddie's, and can't resist the urge to stroke an unruly strand of hair from his cheek. You pause, and then you kiss his cheek. He turns his face to yours and taps your noses together.

You smile, reassured, and squeeze his bicep. 

"Me and Dad had an argument," you confess. 

Roan looks up from his lap. "What?" 

"We had a fight. We didn't agree about something, so we were fighting, and now we're tired because it's hard when you love someone and you want to be on the same page." You blow out a big breath. "But we made up." 

"Doesn't feel like it," Roan says, pushing herself up using both arms. "You're not cuddling or anything." 

"Uh, well…" 

"We haven't had time," Eddie says. 

"Do it now," Roan advises, scrambling backward out of Eddie's lap. 

You're not a wimp, you put yourself under Eddie's arm, and he wraps you up by the shoulder, and you're both kind of stiff but at least Roan isn't worrying she did something wrong. In fact, she looks pleased. She lets Eddie take her hand and doesn't complain when he gives it three big squeezes in a row. 

"You didn't do anything wrong," you say, "you know? It's me that made the mistake, Ro." 

"Me too," Eddie says. 

"Well, mistakes are okay. I make mistakes all the time," Roan says. 

Eddie drops his cheek into the top of your head, defeated and tired and, maybe, maybe maybe maybe, he's happy too. He relaxes slowly, and you let yourself do the same, your arm held across his waist and your fingertips sliding underneath his t-shirt. You feel his skin mindlessly, cool and smooth under your touch, and figure that the fighting has been worth it if it means you get to do this again. 

"Sorry, Eds," you mumble. 

"I'm sorry too," he says back. "I was feeling like a dick yesterday."

"Me too," you say with a laugh. 

Eddie nudges your head with his nose until he can kiss your jaw, a series of chaste, quick pecks. His affection is a blessing. You tilt your head and he makes a disbelieving Yeah? kind of sound, snorting before he tracks kisses up to your cheek and down again. 

Roan jabs her arm with her toes as she stands on Eddie's thigh and hugs him. "See? That was easy." 

You both turn to her with similar motivation. "Super easy," you agree, as Eddie says, "You're right. Thanks, baby." 

"Welcome! Can we find my sock now? My toes are cold." 

You both laugh at her, sympathy and bemusement mixed together. "Oh, babe. We can find you some socks, I'm sorry." 

You stand up and swing her into your arms simultaneously, pleased when she wraps her legs around you and cheers in victory. You're not surprised when Eddie stands up behind you, resting his hand between your shoulders. 

"How about we get dressed? It's Saturday. We can go somewhere, maybe we can go into Indy and have All-American?" Eddie asks.

"Burgers?" Roan asks. 

You laugh into her hair. That's the plan for the day decided —Roan has a one track mind when it comes to cheeseburgers. And she should have what she wants. She saved your Saturday with time to spare.

—

more eddie, roan and reader

[gacha-incels]

you’re never going to have a real conversation about racism, colorism, misogyny, pedo-pandering etc in regards to gacha if you’re looking at one single game, especially a relatively new one. like anything, this will be a superficial look at these problems with no understanding of root causes. this has been most apparent when users will say “don’t play X gacha, play Y gacha instead.” these are industry-wide problems. you’re not doing anyone any favors pretending otherwise. I’m not saying this because I love or hate any of these games, I don’t really care, I’m not coming into conversations about this with the mindset of a “fan”. You need to objectively look at the function of these games in the society from which they come and the relation they have with their target market. Your frame of mind needs to be out of “fandom” mode to do this. You need to understand the target market these games try to reach and their reputation in their country of origin. The games are technically “free” - the consumer is not paying for the story, music, worldbuilding, etc. they are paying large amounts of money (for actual big spenders, thousands per month) to gamble for singular characters, so in turn these characters’ designs must reflect what the consumer most desires to an extreme extent- and this is of course informed by a lifetime’s worth of societal conditioning (media/advertising/gov/etc) and the prejudices that entails. essentially, because everything is banking on selling these characters, the designs are a direct reflection of the consumerbase who in turn are reflections of the society they’ve been conditioned by. they get shown what they want to see and expect to see what they get shown in what eventually becomes a feedback loop that enforces itself, this isn’t unique to gacha (though it’s extremely visible), you can see this happening in other forms of media as well. for something more benign, an example is in US media the eagle’s cry was replaced by the more dramatic sounding red tailed hawk because that’s what viewers expected it to sound like, and after seeing so much media where the eagle is associated with the hawk sound clip this falsity became reality to them through this “movie magic”. It doesn’t matter what reality is, it matters what the viewer’s perception of reality is. Power produces reality. media like this is used not so benignly. this is why good representation in media is fought for, there’s the ability to have a huge effect on a populace, also why “all art is political” it’s who greenlites it, who funds it, who hosts it, where is it shown, who sees it, etc this is all politics. all of this is related.

I would say the average gacha design/character doesn’t want to challenge anything but use the signifiers of contemporary stereotypes already rigidly in place to flatter the consumer’s already held beliefs- and typically it boils down to this is the “demure” (most often East Asian) girl who will fuck you, this is the “exotic” (most often generic fantasy SWANA-like stereotyped) girl who will fuck you, this is the “motherly” girl who will fuck you, this is the “little girl” who will fuck you, this is the “angry” girl that says she hates you but you still own, this is your “cool bro” who is designed to not make men feel uncomfortable. by doing this they are also entering the feedback loop of, for example, racial stereotyping, so this absolutely isn’t to say these designs are harmless.. one year thigh straps are in, one year bare feet are in, one year tech accessories are in, every year racism is in, every year misogyny is in. If you’re coming into this thinking a game like Genshin is leading the pack in any of these areas besides being an open world game and its UI you’re kidding yourself. There are thousands of these games, they’ve been coming out since like 2012 with Puzzle & Dragons, LL:SIF was huge on this website when Nozomi was the designated “thick” anime girl (plus ça change), FGO started in back 2015 and continues to reach new heights of pedophilic design and racism each day. The reason why you will sometimes see riskier design choices in music, NPCs, side stories, background design is that no one is paying to gamble for those things.

[happynowyo]

The deal

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a brothel and all of the sudden Kaz Brekker becomes a frequent visitor who prefers to stay in the shadows until you come up to him first.

Warnings: soft Kaz, mentions of touch aversion

Word count: 2,7k

— Let me guess. Are you going to use an excuse that you're looking for something again?

— No, this time I'm only looking for you.

Your mother once warned you about how cruel the world was and how important it was to be careful. Young girls often caught the attention of slavers and it would probably break your parents' hearts if they knew exactly how your life had turned out after their death. Your aunt was supposed to take you from Fjerda to Ravka, but your ship was attacked by pirates and instead you ended up in Ketterdam when you were fifteen.

In some way you were lucky. You got a place at the Rainforest, an extremely posh and expensive place. The guests were usually wealthy travelers, diplomats, or members of the Merchant Council, so you didn't have to worry about your safety. The girls had to keep the good mood of the clients, but everyone put a different meaning to the words. Some wanted only sex, some wanted company to talk to. They were all escaping loneliness, and you couldn't blame them for that.

But among the row of all the others, only one guest was special. The tapping of his cane on the wooden parquet was unmistakable. You had to have lived in Ketterdam as a complete hermit, blind and deaf, if you didn't know who Kaz Brekker was. Rumors about him flooded the streets, intimidating and exaggerating every little thing about him. But there was no doubt that this guy was very dangerous indeed. His cane broke a lot of bones, and his brilliant mind ruined a lot of lives.

It was not for you to judge how people preferred to rest in their spare time. Sometimes you spotted Jesper in his another funny hat at the playhouse across the street from your second-floor window. You two even talked a couple of times when you ran into each other on the street after the establishments were closed. But seeing Kaz Brekker at the Rainforest required a special occasion.

He seemed like a complete stranger in the place. His eyes were constantly scanning the room, his whole body was tense and looked more like a wax statue than a living person. He was clearly uncomfortable in the brothel, even if he tried to hide it, and his face remained a perfect blank sheet that could easily be given a slight interest. You might have believed it, but a few years at the Rainforest had taught you much better insight into men. Being able to read the slightest visible reaction was part of your job.

Anyone else came to a brothel for entertainment. People wanted to get some female attention and flirtation, to drink and spend a huge amount of money so they could leave at dawn with a smile and a sense of having had a good time. They came "from somewhere." But Kaz Brekker came "to somewhere." He was cautious, but at the same time quite determined, and he clearly had a purpose of some kind. You had seen him at the bar a few times, but then he disappeared faster than you could figure out what kind of drink he had in his glass.

It took a whole week before you realized exactly what was going on. Kaz carefully looked around the main hall, but never went any farther. You had to be a guest accompanied with a girl to go up to the second and third floor, where the girls' rooms for work and the office of the accountant and the club owner were located. You wondered what Kaz wanted to find that was so important that he didn't entrust the job to Jesper, who could pretend to be a client and sniff it out. From what you had heard, Kaz Brekker was probably the only man in Ketterdam who didn't use brothels for their intended purpose.

— Do you need any help or are you going to keep looking around every corner and memorizing what time the guards at the entrance change?

You walked up to him first, leaning innocently beside him on the bar, and glanced curiously at his glass. Vodka and ice? The club's shelves were stocked with liquor, but Kaz Brekker certainly had to stand out in this one, too. The simpler, the better, that's for sure.

— What makes you think I'm interested in security? — Kaz's husky voice carefully concealed his surprise, as if he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed you approaching. And it was further confirmation of how different he was from the people around him. People didn't come to brothels to drink in silence and think about personal things.

— Well, I have eyes, and I can use my mouth to find out that you haven't been with any of the girls, even though it's the fourth time you've been here in a week, — you chirped, giving one of the clients a smile before you turned your attention back to Kaz, your tone changing to more businesslike. — The cane and gloves. This black suit. If you want to go somewhere incognito, I suggest you use a disguise in the future, Kaz Brekker. Everyone is capable of recognizing you in this town, as well as exactly what you're known for. Are you planning another heist here?

Kaz was ready to curse himself for how obvious it was. A foolish scheme had turned out to be an even more foolish finale. He had originally wanted to dig into the situation himself, after Inej had given him the details of the owner, the number of girls and the size of the rooms. But one look at the crowd was enough for him to spot you and that dark blue dress with the veil you wore that first night. Like the sky in the middle of the night. A mystery lying in plain sight. It wasn't until his third night that he was able to find you among the other girls in the hall, guided by the shade of hair he remembered, when he could finally see your face.

Perhaps all these years the Saints had shielded him from unnecessary sympathy and feelings for someone just to give him the illusion of invincibility. He loved nothing and nothing could be taken from him. Kaz believed this as if he really didn't have the ability to feel anything. And that's why he was so shaken by how much he remembered that image of you with the veil and how much he wanted to know more about you. He was so unrestrainedly crushing on you that he still hadn't moved forward with the plan. He needed the access to the second floor, but he didn't have the courage to come up to you and pretend to be your client. Kaz shook at the thought of touching you and the anxiety came along with nausea almost instantly.

— There will be no heist. I just need to look at a couple of documents. I won't even take them with me, — Kaz replied discreetly, forcing his appraising gaze to stop on your face. Too beautiful. Too distracting. He shouldn't have told you anything but he hoped his honesty would buy him a way out.

— I can help. In exchange for a favor, of course.

You leaned closer to him in a trusting manner, and your fingers gently touched Kaz's shoulder. Just for a second, so lightly that the touch seemed phantom and unreal. Whatever past Kaz held, it made him keep his distance from people in a literal sense. Your observation of the previous nights was enough to realize that Kaz was not a fan of touches, even casual ones. The gloves clearly served him as an extra layer of protection, though you were curious about what had happened to him that caused such a reaction. Many girls in brothels reacted similarly negatively to touching after a while, but Kaz didn't seem like the kind of person who would work in such an establishment.

— Okay, let's say I would agree to your terms. Hypothetically. What would you ask for? — it was hard for Kaz to imagine what a girl like you might need. Money? Freedom from your indenture? Or someone else's death? He knew how much brothels disfigured and perverted the psyche, no one remained a saint there.

— You will take your gloves off next to me. No touching. But you will take them off so we are equal.

You were absolutely unwavering in what you said. Some tension thickened between you, and the air seemed almost electrified. Kaz Brekker was a threat to everyone in Ketterdam, but something told you that he could show an unusual softness around you. You'd met guys like that before. They built themselves up to be important and confident, they controlled other people's lives, but when they were alone, they all wanted to give up some of their control. To give it to someone else, to breathe easier. You wondered if Kaz was really the same.

He threw a quick glance toward the exit, as if miscalculating his escape route, but finally nodded in silent agreement. A smile bloomed on your lips, and you wrapped your fingers lightly around Kaz's wrist over his jacket to lead him up the stairs. The guards let you through without any questions, and you wondered if they knew who the dark-haired guy with the cane next to you was. If they did, they would have preferred to kick him out in fear that he would pick all the locks and stashes in the brothel.

You led Kaz to the very last door and carefully looked around before nodding approvingly. Time was short, but you had no doubt that Kaz would manage to find what he needed.

— All of the owner's papers are here, so as all the accountant's reports. He'll be back in half an hour, after lunch, but if I were you, I'd hurry, — you warned him with a charming smile, without any guilt for taking a criminal to the brothel's main office. — Be a good boy and come see me afterwards. Second door on the left. I've heard you always stick to your part of the deal.

You didn't wait for his answer and went to your room. You had time to open a window and fix your hair before a polite knock reached your ears, and then Kaz came inside. Quite pleased, judging by the look on his face. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, though you knew no one would dare disturb you anyway.

— You could have told me. I wouldn't have wasted my time, — Kaz's voice, despite the accusation in his words, was filled with real amusement. His blue eyes twinkled with surprise, though he quickly returned to his usual reserved look.

— I wanted to watch you at work. How fast you can do it. Your fame runs far ahead of you.

You shrugged innocently, smiled softly, and then stepped back, resting your back against the windowsill. The light breeze from the open window played mischievously with your hair, and you threw your head back for a moment, closing your eyes to relax. When you looked up again, Kaz was already in front of you. His cane had been left next to a nearby chair, and his last step toward you was extremely neat, since Kaz was trying not to put pressure on his bad leg.

— I know a couple of Healers. They could have helped you with your leg. Your life would have been a lot easier, but I guess you thought about it and gave up that option. Do you use this pain to punish yourself? — you spoke more quietly, and everything inside you froze with a strange anticipation.

Tension rang in the air and only got stronger as Kaz slowly began to remove his gloves. When was the last time he'd done this in front of someone? Had it even happened once? He looked so vulnerable, so collected and soft at the same time, that you immediately wanted to praise him. It was clearly a huge step for him, and you were about to ask why he decided to do it after all, but Kaz beat you to it, breaking the long pause.

— To remember. Pain reminds me that I am alive. That I have some weaknesses. Given what I do, it's easy to believe in my own invincibility. I've seen it bring people down, — Kaz's voice lowered and literally vibrated.

What was happening seemed like a real obsession to him, but he was already here and this was his chance, so he cautiously took another step, standing quite close so that your chests almost touched. The stale smell of water crept up his nose as the first sign of future panic, but Kaz did his best to get rid of it. Some things have to be done the other way around, so even though all his instincts were screaming for him to step back, he shortened the distance between you and touched your hair unabashedly, tucking the strand behind your ear.

— It's a good strategy, but I feel sorry that you have to use it, always feeling pain with every move, — you didn't try to move away, nor did you comment on Kaz's actions. The attraction between you could be felt under your skin. Kaz was handsome as hell, and part of you wished he could have been a mere client. So you could flirt and touch him without any consequences, without making him uncomfortable.

— Your strategy is pretty good, too. In a few years you've made a great career move, from a usual servant to an accountant of one of the top brothels. Do you still work with clients?

— I'm a fast learner. And yes, I don't have to sleep with anyone anymore, but sometimes I still spend time around big clients to make sure there aren't any problems.

Kaz nodded, not really paying attention. He could hardly think about anything right now while his whole body was in a state of peak tension. For the first time in his life he was so attracted to someone, and it shook him to his core. Kaz wanted to go further, but his mind was frantically trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen. Was your attraction mutual? If he risked touching you for real, how quickly would panic overshadow desire? If you knew about who he was, did you realize the danger he brought with him?

It was literally written all over his face, all those difficult choices that plagued him so much that you made the decision for him, gently reaching forward with your palm. He could touch it or he could step back. During the healing process even the tiniest step was important. You kept your eyes on Kaz, studying his graceful facial features with pleasure, and you couldn't ignore how handsome he was. Kaz could have had any girl or guy at the snap of his fingers, but he was so uptight and so caught up in his work that he didn't notice anyone around him. Or he didn't want to notice because of his obvious problem with touching.

— What were you looking for in the papers?

You tried to distract him, continuing to watch as his fingers slowly came close to yours. There was barely a millimeter of space between you, but even that sent a wave of heat through your body. You could feel the touch even so, though it never really happened.

— The list of investors. And the guest list at the anniversary party. I was asked to find some compromising information on an official from the Merchant Council, — Kaz looked embarrassed and twitched his lips guiltily, taking a step back as panic reached his lungs and cut off his oxygen.

— I can get you an invitation. If you agree to visit me again. There's an old hotel in the west side of the town. I rent a room under its green roof, the biggest one. If you crack the lock before I get there, after midnight, I'll be especially pleased. Do you want me to be pleased, Kaz?

You returned the previous minimal distance between you and leaned into Kaz's ear with a charming whisper, casually running your palm along his shoulder and chest, leaving tiny millimeters to the actual touch. You wanted to test your guess and see if he wanted you the same way, or if you just made up the fact that there was a spark between you.

You got the best answer when Kaz nodded and briefly touched your palm with a light kiss, like a true gentleman.

[possamble]

do you have any particular thoughts regarding marcille being a half-elf? its interesting to me considering the fact that she seems self-conscious about being a half-elf, but denies it when its brought up

i remember marcille looking visibly uncomfortable over laios simply asking her how old she is, which i think the only reason she might feel nervous about this is because it might reveal her as a half-elf to him.

she's never corrected anybody whose called her an elf either.

never mind the circumstances of the reveal, in which thistle goes on about how half-elves are inferior and accusing her of wanting to become full blooded elf, she seemed particularly upset like he struck a nerve-

i wish the half-elf thing was built upon more. also, underrated marcille line:

okay so i revisited this sequence just to make sure I could back myself up and it's just... man. there's a lot going on.

the first reaction we get from Marcille is this huge panel that takes up half of the page

she is viscerally affected. flushing to the tips of her ears with the intensity of it. and we see it again, a few pages later

so it might seem like she's embarrassed about it and lying to herself, but... I really think it's just that Thistle is accidentally hitting sore spots. If you really look at what he says to get these reactions

"you'll live out your entire life [...] and die that way too"

"a hundred years from now, nobody will be there"

Hear me out. I think, if he stuck to harping on about her inferiority without bringing up how terrifyingly long-lived she is, she wouldn't have been as bothered. But right now, Thistle is accidentally hitting all the marks on Marcille's deepest fears-- and this is after the Winged Lion promised her that her dreams could come true in an extremely vulnerable moment, so it also hits her slightly guilty conscience as well.

I do truly believe that Marcille isn't bothered about being a half-elf the way that people assume she'd be bothered by it. To her, the biggest problem with being a half-elf is that it's isolating.

On one hand, it's not hard to imagine why she'd distance herself from elves in the west. A lot of them can clock her as a half-elf on sight, unlike other races, and therefore she's always branded with this weird stigma of being Othered -- I would even say that she considers herself lucky for being born outside of elven culture instead of having to grow up in it. I mean, just... look at the way elves talk about her.

Skipping past the uncomfortable implication of what 'not tolerating the existence' of half-elves would actually entail, this is incredibly fucking annoying. You can see why she wouldn't want to be around elves much. You see a lot of Marcille reacting badly here, but honestly, almost all of it can be attributed to her freaking out that her bluff completely failed. She's honestly more paying attention to Izutsumi's footsteps and trying to coordinate an opportunity to escape.

And in the end, you see her built-up frustration at being asked if she wants to be a full-blooded elf like 2-3 times in a row.

Yeah, yeah, "the lady doth protest too much," and all. But we know Marcille. We know that she's a lot more embarrassed and horrendously unconvincing when she's being prodded about something she's actually self-conscious about.

Moving onto the flipside of things, it might seem weird that she "pretends" to be a full elf around other races, but it's not really that strange if you think about it. Again, people are weird about her being infertile or whatever, and a lots of them don't even know much about what sets half-elves apart from everyone else. I mean, look at how uncomfortable Laios is just asking her about it

and look at how exasperated and resigned she looks

And like... she's right. Where would that come up in normal conversation? Why would she go out of her way to tell them? She's functionally a normal elf to other races anyway -- got the ears, the abnormally long "childhood", and the huge mana capacity. Unless it's directly relevant or important for people to know, I don't think it's all that strange or indicative of insecurity that she prefers not to bother with it.

(This combined with her sense of being an "outsider" to elf culture also explains why she thinks elf superiority is embarrassing. She sees the way elves treat short-lived races from the "outsider" perspective nonetheless, and thinks it's obnoxious; especially more so because she usually has to play the elf around short-lived races and deal with the reputation of arrogance that elves have built up.)

The sad thing is, this all means that... she doesn't actually fit in anywhere. She doesn't like going out West much because of how elves treat her. But she's also an outsider in the continents she was born in, treated like this exotic long-lived alien choosing to live among short-lived races for some reason. She is always an outsider, the Other, no matter where she goes. Add in the fact that she'll live longer than literally anyone she knows, and it's honestly kind of heartbreaking.

And I think that's the crux of it. Marcille really doesn't act like she's at all self-conscious about being a half-elf because of any feelings of inferiority or being half-made or whatever. She considers herself a perfectly legitimate being and might even, in some ways, consider herself superior to normal elves because she's not blind with elf supremacy or whatever. (And whatever "elven biases" she displays, all of them are born more out of the fact that she's kind of bad at conceptualizing how other races age and mature compared to herself, not that she actually considers herself better or more mature simply for being an elf.)

I think that whatever self-consciousness Marcille has about being a half-elf is, instead, related to terror and loneliness. The reminder that it ensures she'll never truly belong anywhere for the rest of her very long life. The reminder that, in truth, even she's not actually sure how old she is by other races' standards (hence the discomfort when asked how old she is). She doesn't want to not be a half elf, or be a full elf or full tall-man-- in her ideal world, she's still a half-elf. She just gets to live out her life at the same pace with the people she loves and doesn't have to say goodbye again and again and again until she dies.

and one last very important panel, right after Mithrun tells her that all her desires would be devoured

In her ideal world, she's still a half-elf and reality magically starts marching at her pace. But failing that, the second best thing is that she's still a half-elf-- but one who is able to accept reality and let go of her fear.

(But the rest of the story pans out the way it does because, to Marcille, taking reality apart and reshaping it was less scary than simply and fully reconciling with it.)

[borbygorlinbbqworld]

The Resort

---

For saving his life, your friend Georgie had booked you at a resort as payment.

"Just make sure you don't eat or drink before going to this place, and just go along with their process. Won't tell you why, but you'll thank me later."

'This place,' he had explained, was a resort for men. It sounded similar to a brothel, but Georgie insisted it was a ritzy, upscale place. Given you were his only non-billionaire friend, you begrudgingly accepted his word as truth.

So when you arrived and your personal guide showed you to your large penthouse suite overlooking the ocean on one side (and a very public hotspring bath), you were glad you took his advice. Even the bathroom had an oversized shower you were certain was larger than your shoddy apartment.

After letting you get settled, your guide returned to the door with a young woman.

Her long auburn hair hung in waves that curved around her chest. You couldn't help but notice she was extremely busty, if not otherwise petite. The cute brunette had attempted to go with a modest shirt, but the buttons gaped huge holes from the massive tits trying to pop them open. The outline of her bra was clearly visible through the thinner fabric. The bra itself must not have been padded or lined in any way, because her fat areolas made their presence just known enough for your dick to twitch.

Oh fuck...

"This is Estie. She will be taking care of you this week. You, and only you." With a curt bow, your guide left you standing, still staring at Estie's tits.

It took you a moment, but you finally remembered staring was rude. You shook yourself. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be creepy... I'm just... I'm really not sure what this place is about."

Estie smiled sweetly and tucked an auburn strand of hair behind her ear. "Your friend booked you here, right Master?

You were sure she was forced to call you that, but hearing her say it definitely stiffened your cock. "Yeah."

"Well, he booked you a week at our resort, where we pamper men through nourishment and sensuality." She dropped her gaze, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks as she twirled a piece of hair. "He booked you in for our VP package."

"You mean VIP?"

In shaking her head, her huge melons swayed this way and that. "No... Virgin Premium, Master."

Your mouth went dry. Georgie may have had a sense of humour, but surely he didn't think you were a virgin? Unless... could it have meant something else?

Your stomach growled, reminding you of your decision to take your friend's advice in the first place. Estie looked a little uncomfortable at the sound and pressed her and against the side of her boob; it was the same sort of motion you'd seen your sister do to check how full she was before feeding your nephew.

And, if you had to be honest, Estie's breasts looked really fucking full. And not just because they were big tits to begin with, but the buttons that had already been struggling to keep her huge mammaries contained started popping open one by one. With each release, her swelling breasts pushed her shirt open, until finally you were left looking at a pair of fleshy fat mounds. Blue veins ran along her skin, connecting to what you assumed had to be her nipples. Though the tiny bra was still in place, the thin fabric was only able to cover most of her areolas.

Better off yet, the pink fabric was damp at the spots her hard nipples poked through.

"Uh-Uhmm..."

Words. You could barely manage them. Between your ravenous stomach, hard-as-a-rock dick, and urge to squeeze those massive udders, your body was at a stand still.

As she stepped further into your room, closer to you, her tits sloshed. "You must be super hungry."

"Y-yeah..."

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Her beads of milk spattered against the hardwood. This girl was literally so full of milk, her expanding breasts were leaking. You had to tuck your rock-hard dick up into the brim of your boxers, hoping it would contain it.

"Did you know a woman's breasts can tell how hungry you are, just from your saliva, or lack thereof?"

Your own mouth felt dry, thirsty. What you wouldn't give to be below those leaking udders right now...

"I'm a virgin, but they give us fertility drugs so we can assist with your nourishment needs... among other things."

So that's what Georgie had meant by coming hungry. Still...

"O-Other things...?"

Estie nodded. "Virgin premium members are permitted to... impregnate us to keep us lactating, Master."

The brim of your boxers wasn't enough to hold back your erection it throbbed and slipped from its confine so it stood at attention. It had been a while for you, but the head dampened with precum at the thought of burying your seed deeply within her.

Her breasts swelled again. With the sound of stretching fabric, her thin bra finally snapped, letting those ginormous milky mounds free. Her rouge areola looked more than a mouthful, but her hardened, leaking nipples begged you to try anyway.

The gravity of her swelling breasts pulled her forward, and Estie squeaked.

"They can also tell when you're horny, Master," she whispered breathlessly. "Would you rather I relieve your hunger or sexual urges first?"

What a choice to have to make.

Evidently, the stricken feeling was pasted all over your face, because she gave a little giggle. Estie walked over to your bed, her swollen mammaries sloshing so much milk around, the droplets turned to tiny rivers running down her stomach.

She sat at the foot of the bed, her nipples grazing her thighs as her breasts had expanded to take up all her torso.

Food first, you decided.

You knelt down before her and reached a shaking hand out. She let out the tiniest squeak as your fingertips grazed her warm skin; her tit were soft, but so fucking full. Daring to go further, you squeezed the front most part of her breast, as much of a handful as you could manage.

She moaned as hot milk sprayed you in the face.

"I-I-I'm so sorry!"

You licked your lips. Her milk was sweet, like milk candy, and you knew you needed more. And given how much her tits were already soaked and leaking, you were willing to wager she probably needed to be emptied.

You took her swollen udders in you hands, lifting them up and down and feeling the milk slosh inside like water balloons close to popping. They weighed a ton!

Without another thought, you put your mouth to her nipple and gave a gentle suckle. Your mouth flooded with delicious milk you happily guzzled.

More.

On your knees in front of her, you nursed on her one breast while the other soaked your shoulder. She snaked a hand through your hair and gave a huge sigh of relief, which made your dick give a wild twitch.

Never before had your sweat pants felt so tight, but there you were with a massive erection needing release.

You let go of her breast, your lips making a loud pop when you unlatched. You were still so hungry, but incredibly horny.

You gyrrated your hips against her legs as you guzzled more delicious milk from her other breast. After finally getting your fill, you knew you needed to relieve yourself.

Yanking her panties down wouldn't have been in your normal repertoire of moves, but then again, you hadn't been this horny before.

As you shoved your cock in her, you both let out a pleasureful moan. You jammed it deep inside her, savoring just how fucking tight she felt around your throbbing cock. With each thrust, she made a sound that drove you mad with desire. You couldn't stop humping her, even if you wanted to at this point.

"Make... sure... you... cum... inside... me... Master..."

It was the final word that made you release your load. You thrust it deeply inside her, feeling your balls give everything they had. With another few pumps, you pulled out and stared down at her n the bed.

On her back, her massive breasts were leaky, fat mountains whose veins were slightly less prominent. She panted, her eyes hooded with pleasure. Though you knew there was far more that came out of you, only a little bit of cum had seeped out of her.

She sat up and bit her lip as she stared at you. "I... I didn't know it would feel so good..."

You smirked. "Guess you won't be giving anyone else the Virgin Premium package anymore, huh?"

---

🐮❤️

[beatrixstonehill2]

Kylie was thrilled when she got a scholarship to attend University in Alabama. She was a bit shy, as a trans girl moving to a new place, and got rather lucky looking for roommates. She moved in with a lesbian couple consisting of two trans girls, Dana and Piper. The girls were so sweet and extremely accommodating to the very shy Kylie, who mostly stayed in her room and studied. Kylie didn't really date or bother her roommates, though she saw them make out constantly and heard them fuck several times a day. She always made it a point not to leave her room if she heard them having sex. Overall, it was a bit uncomfortable but she was adjusting well.

One night, Dana and Piper were watching some sort of live political session. They were absolutely giddy, holding all four hands, one atop the next, shoulder to shoulder. Kylie was ignorant of politics and asked what was up. Dana gleefully explained that they were voting on a forced detrans bill that would require any trans person under twenty-five not only to go off hormones, but take the hormones of their biological sex in very strong doses. For trans men it meant estrogen and fertility drugs like Femruptarin, for trans girls, testosterone and Rocket to greatly increase the size of their genitals.

Kylie was stunned, completely flustered, asking if it would apply to her. They told her it would, she'd have to detrans and become a boy like they would. The lesbian couple seemed utterly elated, their small cocks visibly twitching in their shorts. Kylie watched like her life was flashing before her eyes as the bill unanimously passed. Dana and Piper immediately started making out intensely the second they approved it to go in effect immediately. Kylie was left shaking, so both girls took her to the bedroom, gently caressing her shoulders, her breasts, down to her rather large cock. They smiled when they felt it, telling her how gorgeous it'll be after going on testosterone and Rocket.

The couple reassured her what great news this was, whispering how they'd be too horny to care that they were going through male puberty and being forced to become guys. Their cocks would triple in size, every orgasm would be like shooting a liter of cum. They started kissing Kylie and undressing her, telling her that her cock would be over twenty inches, her balls would grow to the size of grapefruits. She'd cum so hard her body would shake, her brain would feel like it's splitting in half, every time. They could still be femboys, even if their voices dropped and they had stubborn beards, they kissed her neck telling her how excited they were to see her Adam's apple grow as her pretty voice deepened. They squeezed her G-cup breasts, pushing their even larger tits against her, telling her they'd have sexy flat chests, their gorgeous breasts would be chopped off in less than a week, whispering how hot it'll be to finally lose their boobs and have chests like boys are meant to.

The girls' erotic moaning and whispering intensified, slowly telling Kylie they were all just boys anyway playing pretend, making themselves into perverted, male fantasies of girls, pumping their testosterone-starved cocks as they lived out their lesbian porn fantasies. They marveled at Kylie's already big cock and told her it represented how she was totally never meant to be a girl. Her cock proved her body knew it was supposed to be a boy through all the estrogen, chemical forced feminization, and blockers. The girls made love for hours, celebrating their upcoming detransition, and after only a half hour or so of this couple whispering sweet nothings in her ear about growing a huge cock and losing her big fat breasts, she became putty in their hands, allowing herself to be posed and played with and teased and sculpted every which way they desired. In spite of her cock being over twice the size of theirs, they both took turns topping her.

All of Kylie's cares melted away as drool down her lips. She couldn't wait to finally embrace being a boy like her new lovers..... She craved these stronger, male orgasms and all the delightfully naughty changes testosterone would do to her poor, feminine body, forever reshaping it, making her irreversibly masculine, never again able to enjoy being a sexy young woman with big fat breasts and a cute face, petite frame. She'd watch her body grow, her tits get taken away, her body hair thicken, her facial hair come in, and relish every moment of it, finding it the biggest turn on of her entire life.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

"Which is an uncomfortable notion because we’re used to a royalty that “has to be seen to be believed.”"

This is not an uncomfortable notion. It's been tested over centuries.

Every royal since the notion began has done the 'has to be seen to be believed' parades, and stats always come back that support is higher after the Monarch has made themselves visible especially to the ordinary public, but it works both ways because public investment gives the monarchy power against the establishment. 

I could give you over 50 examples where the Monarch's visibility increased allegiance to the Crown, but we'd be here all day, so i'll narrow it down to just 3 examples in 3 reigns. 

When Queen victoria was merely princess Alexandrine, heir to the throne, her mother ensured that the public would support her by taking her on tours of the country. This gave both her mother and the princess power at court and ensured a smooth transition to Queen when the time came. 

However, after Albert died and Victoria refused to be seen in public for 40yrs, the monarch suffered to the point of constitutional crisis and is the highest point of republican movement where the public called for the end of it as they didn't see why they should support an invisible institution. 

The funny thing is that Victoria was using the social media of her day - frequently releasing portraits and photos of her and her family, encouraging the govt to create endless monuments and dedications to her beloved Albert, and the govt encouraged industrialised to use the image of the Queen to advertise their goods throughout the Empire, but it didn't work to stem the tide of republicanism especially in an era that had so many social problems.

That's not to say that she wasn't working behind the scenes - she was, but her invisibility was a huge problem that nearly ended the monarchy.

Her son, as scandalous as he was, mingled with the public at large and when he became King, he reinstated the visibility to great success. Most, if not all, the public ceremonies that the royals do now are down to him. Everything from Trooping the colour to State opening of Parliament. Those ceremonies had been taking place in private already, but he added the royal family to them, and turned them into a public spectacle showcasing the monarchy. And he taught his children well on that point.

George 5 especially understood that lesson because he used it to cement public investment in the monarchy and that way fortify it against being toppled by the establishment or republicans. He did it by building on the public ceremonies of his father by making charity/ meet and greets with the public a feature of royal life. He also created the system of awarding ordinary citizens honours and making sure there is a public investiture which is still beloved to this day. 

George 6 and The Queen added their own versions of meet and greets eg The Queen added the walkabout which proved extremely popular. 

The issue for William more than KC3 might be of personality as William seems shy just like Kate which is why they are not entirely comfortable with the public showing of themselves, so they need to figure out a way to do it that allows them to maintain public investment in the royals. 

They might want to scale back or figure out different ways of being visible, but remote media doesn't work, and it would be foolish to throw away a method tested and proven over 1000yrs. 

Anecdotally, they might dislike local bread-and-butter, meet-and-great the public engagements because they don't understand the power of them, but let me tell you about The Queen visiting my village in 2012 as the first stop on her Jubilee tour on the country - we've grown little, but in reality, still a village. 

She didn't do much. She met some school children and many villagers, looked at some assembled stalls in the village square, patted afew dogs,  looked over our tiny Abbey and left. Entire thing probably lasted 2hrs or less. 

She never returned, but you'll be hard pressed to find a republican in the village following that visit. Growing up there, I would never have thought people enjoyed the royals except for Charles - our village is in the Duchy of Cornwall so we have more contact with Charles and everyone has opinions about him - good and bad, but The Queen's visit was a shot in the arm that people still talk about today. 

*****

Anon, you really missed the point I was making. You missed it so badly that you made it for me.

I didn’t say “royalty has to be seen to be believed” was uncomfortable. I said the idea of modern, scaled-back monarchy favoring quality over quantity where the royals may not be as often seen was uncomfortable.

Yes, physical access and “being seen” is a powerful tool in the monarchy but it’s no longer the *only* tool they have. What’s different about today than Queen Victoria’s time is the 24/7 news cycle, social media, the capability to do in-real-time virtual events, the ability to record both video and audio, television, internet, and phones. Today’s society is more connected than the Victorians may have ever thought possible. Royalty does not need to only be physically present to make an impact any more and that makes people uncomfortable because — as you proved — it upturns 120+ years of tradition. It’s a huge change, a paradigm shift.

Now, should royalty still be physically present and seen? Yes. How are William and Kate going to do that? No idea, but it’s probably going to be different than what everyone’s used to and there’s already grumbling about it because it’s a change from what they’re used to.

[eccentricallygothic]

Loved your last post with the five Chris evans characters. It made me think of something with smut but also angst. Maybe bunny is still white nervous around all of them together.

Maybe like in the most recent work a previous arrangement has been made that on one day out of the blue they’ll use her and degrade her. The day the five decide to do this bunny knows she has her safe word but still feels quite hesitant to use it *insert angst* leading to her hiding away from them. Even going as far to hide in a cupboard or something with a blanket as like a safe place. Definitely trying to put herself in a smaller mindset.

When they realise what’s happening they have a lengthy talk and are much softer with her, talking about limits or something and there’s plenty of aftercare.

Warning(s): Angst, sub drop, poly relationship, fluff, ddlg, little space. 

Playtime had been intense today. 

Rough and overstimulating. 

But since Bunny had her safeword and Daddies had already discussed it with her a few days back.

So they were assured that nothing was wrong when they coaxed her back into her usual headspace from the extreme subspace she had been pushed into. 

Bunny is quite talkative once she opens up to someone.

So naturally, she is the same way with them. 

But during her cleaning up and bathing, she doesn't say much, only hoarsely responding to their concerns with brief 'yes Daddy's.

They think it's due to how rough everything was and her sensitivity after playtimes. 

And so Lloyd washes her hair.

Andy cleans her bunny parts.

Ari takes to gently taking care of her very sensitive and marked chest. 

Jensen and Ransom divide the rest. 

After much praise from Jensen and much careful handling, Bunny is placed in her bed as Ari goes to get her some food. 

The rest have work so they all leave one by one. 

She's not in her Bunny crib. 

He calls out her name.

Checks her whole room.

He worriedly calls the rest of the men to her room when he fails to find her.  

Ransom has to drive back home.

Jensen checks the cctvs installed throughout the huge house for security purposes that he is now thankful for.

That is exactly how they find her.

She's seen entering Ransom's room and walking to his wardrobe in which he had recently gotten new cupboards installed that were still empty.

It only now occurred to them how Bunny had made a playhouse out of them when they were still new.

Lloyd feels a little uncomfortable reaching for the door handle because he knows he is not the best with matters of this sort. 

But since he's in the front and concern overpowers his hesitance, he finds himself kneeling in front of the cupboard. 

"Bunny?" Ransom calls from beside him as her form slowly becomes visible to them.

"You scared me, baby" Ari is softly panting because of the little jog he had taken throughout the house to try and find her. 

The tip of her nose is red as she sniffles, getting smaller under their concerned gazes.

Her form is perched against the divider board, body nuzzled in her fluffy pink blanket as her face is hidden behind her favourite teddy, one teary eye peeking at them.

She flinches when Jensen suddenly opens the second one of the twin doors. 

Andy shoots the younger male a sharp look at the gesture. 

"I am sorry. I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, baby Bunny" Jensen gently apologises before trying to reach for her but she tries to move back.

His heart breaks as Ari protectively whispers for him to back off. 

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Lloyd resists the urge to reach out for her. 

"You should have come to one of us instead of hiding away. Do you know how dangerous closing yourself in a cupboard can be?" Andy's voice is firm but it's obvious that he's worried. 

Ari squeezes the oldest's shoulder to make him stop. "Bunny, I only left to get you some food" he sounds hurt. 

"Did we do something wrong? Did we go too far?" Ransom questions once he spots her comfort paci stuck between her lips.

She doesn't use it too often so when she does, he knows something is seriously wrong. 

"But you have your safeword, sweetheart." Ari has the hardest time dealing with this because she was supposed to be his responsibility for the rest of the day. 

"Why didn't you use it?" Andy softens his reprimand the best he can. He can't help it. The man takes boundaries and rules way too seriously. He believes there'd be no order otherwise.

"... S- Sorry…" The influx of attention and emotion has her whimpering into her stuffie. 

The older Daddies seem bigger and scarier. 

Jensen steps in because he's the best one to deal with it especially now that Bunny has regressed. And they know he intimidates her the least. 

The other Daddies do feel guilty and that they should have been better at reading their Bunny. 

Daddy Jensen lets her take her time to adjust and ease into his reassurances.

The others are mostly quiet and they just join in on the crooning every now and then.

Eventually they get Bunny to slowly crawl out and into their arms.

Lots of reassurance is given.

Then she is carried to her room where she requests to be put into a Bunny onesie. 

Lloyd is not the best with ddlg and when she regresses but he wraps her in one of her favorite blankets, even going as far as to offering her a candy he doesn't really approve of otherwise since it messes with her throat. 

Ari finally gets the food that he had been preparing and Andy makes sure she is hydrated himself. 

Bunny is the most comfortable in Daddy's Jensen's lap so that's where she bunches herself, teddy in hand and paci in mouth. 

Ransom asks her if he can remove the paci before Andy slowly starts to feed her. 

Bunny slowly reaches for Ari's hand as they're all gathered around her because she can see how upset her lack of trust made him. Or so he thinks. But the way her thumb caresses the top of his hand, he passes her a gentle pass before pressing an apologetic kiss to her cheek, assuring her that he will never leave her alone in that state again.

Lloyd has set some cushions and pillows on the fluffy rug in front of her Bunny crib that all of them obviously can't fit on. 

Andy starts the serious conversation eventually as he feeds her. 

Lloyd is massaging her sore muscles while Ransom holds her other hand.

They assure her and remind her of the importance of her safeword.

That she is to use it whenever she wants or feels like something isn't right, no questions asked. 

What would be the point of them otherwise? 

Ari puts on some cartoons for her.

While the older Daddy-Doms had never really seen themselves fitting into a proper ddlg setting with her, they find themselves loving how small and cute she is like this. 

How sweet taking care of her like this feels.

It's definitely an experience.

Especially when she snickers or murmurs a comment about a character or scene from the cartoon, lisping all the while. 

Eventually, all five Daddies and their Bunny doze off in front of the pink bunny tv, basically formed up into a protective ball around their little girl.

.

Omg this made me feel so soft. Thank you for your ask <3 🥺

[galacticwiseguy]

re the red flag shirt post

the thing is that any man who's paying attention realizes that loud male sexuality is scary. not inherently, not to everyone; but it's scary to a lot of women as a result of the world we live in and the experiences they have had at the hands of other men. and so we have to reckon with that

we don't get to be confidently, aggressively sexual in public*. because that's harassment. some people say this and they mean "that's what those feminazi SJWs will call 'harassment,' and it's oppression" — please understand that's the opposite of what i'm saying. I'm saying, if a man confidently, aggressively displays sexuality in public, that is in fact harassment. it scares and hurts people, it makes them feel threatened, it makes them feel like they can't just safely exist in public. it causes all of the feelings in some bystanders that we are trying to prevent and avoid when we take steps to prevent harassment.

i would love to be a visibly sexual being! i'd adore an opportunity to "display myself as sexually available" or "present myself to the female gaze" or whatever else the notes on that post said. in the vanishingly few places i get that opportunity, i take it immediately. but generally, men don't get to do that. because of the shitty behavior of other men, no men get to "confidently" display their sexuality. only women get to do that, because women's sexuality is not inherently, automatically a threat. men's is. we get to display our sexuality with explicit consent, or within very specific, clearly delineated spaces that defang it and make it safe,** and otherwise we are morally obligated to try to be sexually nonthreatening in public.

meanwhile other men who simply do not care about any of the above and do not think they have any obligation to care about other people's feelings do go around Confidently Displaying their sexuality. and as that poll showed, 60% of women go "ooh cool sexy" so those men are sexually successful. and 40% of women continue to feel scared and uncomfortable. same as it ever was.

i hope one day this stops being true, i don't think it's inherent in any laws of the universe (gender is fake, it's all made up). it's just a conditional result of the world we currently live in where so hugely many women are being harassed and assaulted by male sexuality on a constant basis. once that stops happening, then a display of male sexuality can become acceptable and fun

* unless we're being fruity about it, which also clearly defangs it—if it's clearly a display of gay sexuality then women know it is not a threat to them. that's why this isn't nearly so much of an issue for gay men.

** or, third case, if we're simply extremely attractive, in which case we often get given a pass. lots of people who'd be bothered if it was an ugly dude with the slutty shirt (or whatever) will be okay with it if he's hot. that's just the classic "hello, human resources???" dynamic at work. but even then you're still making a bunch of women feel unsafe, just a smaller bunch; it's not really okay, you're just more likely to get away with it.

[donnerpartyofone]

Recent Incidents of Inappropriate IRL-Internet Intermingling:

On Instagram I posted (only half-jokingly) that LONGLEGS is just like that grade-Z Tiny Tim movie BLOOD HARVEST, and somebody with a username that's just a random-looking character string replied that they HATE ME for it. I was thinking wtf you HATE ME? That seems a little extreme from a total stranger. And then I looked and realized it's my husband's #1 most misogynistic friend who has always been visibly uncomfortable with me because I'm a girl who is also a nerd and I have had professional nerd jobs and I know more about some stuff than he does. (He wasn't trying to hide his identity, I just didn't instantly realize it was him) Now he has started regularly leaving comments that he probably thinks count as friendly, but it's always some insult about how I'm doing something wrong, or I went to a bar before the weekend, or just anything that could be an insult that I can't respond to without seeming oversensitive. I just ignore them all, which I'm sure annoys him.

LinkedIn told me that an ex-friend who I had a really bad falling out with viewed my profile. I'm sure she wasn't looking for me, LinkedIn is good at making it weirdly unavoidable to look at or "connect with" people. I was in a long relationship with someone who was (among many other horrible things) cheating on me elaborately as a spectator sport for the enjoyment of his friends/coworkers/bosses (yes, bosses), and when we finally broke up I was just so happy that I never had to even see the face of his super gross-sounding mistress. And then, even though I'm sure I unfollowed/blocked my ex everywhere, LinkedIn tried to make me connect with her, so I had to see her shitty rattyass face. At least I didn't think she was hot at all but I was so fucking pissed. But anyway, with my old friend it wasn't that we got in a fight, we were just growing apart quickly and she did something pretty bad and I reacted pretty badly and we just stopped talking without discussion. I'm not proud of how it went down, but the friendship definitely had to end. Part of me is a little afraid the LinkedIn viewing is the prelude to her trying to communicate somehow. I really don't need closure and I wouldn't want to repair the relationship, like I think she's a decent person and I wish her well but I wouldn't be at all interested in having a conversation. If she actually reached out for that and I turned her down I would feel like a huge fucking coward and it's arguable that I owe her more than that, but I don't know. I don't think there would be any point to it. I've narrowed down my range of friends a lot over the past several years and I'm pretty happy with the way things are now. Fuckin LinkedIn.

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp keeps the toad he had on Wano and brings it with him to the ship without anyone noticing (because he fears what Nami will say to him, honestly) and Sanji catches him one day with it in his workshop. Usopp tries to make up a excuse, saying the toad just jumped into the ship with them and it has nothing to do with the fact that he has grown very very fond of it, but Sanji knows better. He suddenly goes away and Usopp fears the worst, thinking they're gonna make him get rid of his baby. But then Sanji comes into the workshop again, this time with a little plate in his hand and Usopp can't believe the sight in front of him.

Sanji is visibly uncomfortable but trying to keep up with a smile. "This is the hardest thing I've ever done. For fuck's sake, get this thing away from me or I'll throw up instantly." But he's referring to the plate he's holding, and not Pyonnosuke. Because he's prepared what seems a dish with some insects and stuff they use to catch fishes and other animals. Basically, Sanji got into the storage room and grabbed the insects they use for bait to give them to the toad.

Usopp never thought he'd fall in love more with Sanji, but turns out he still can.

So he just grabs the plate for him and starts feeding Pyonnosuke with a huge grin on his face. He thinks that Sanji will still be disgusted, but he's knelt right beside him watching the toad eat, being the happiest Usopp has ever seen him.

The sniper rests his head on Sanji's shoulder and looks up. "Isn't this... Extremely disgusting for you?"

"The insects?" He shivers at the thought. "Fuck, yes. I fucking hate them. But-" Sanji keeps staring at Pyonnosuke, and, you know, it looks adorable. "I think I like this little guy a lot. Cute thing you've got there, Usopp. How could you hide it from me?"

Usopp looks away, a bit embarrassed at the confession. "I didn't think you'd like him, honestly. You don't seem very fond of... Amphibians?"

Sanji shrugs. "I'm fond of whoever eats my food happily and looks just as adorable as this little thing. Right, cutie?"

And so Usopp has to watch Sanji get along with Pyonnosuke for a long, long while, talking to the toad as if it were their real child. And turns out Usopp isn't even bothered about Pyonnosuke jumping to be on Sanji's hands and loving him, perhaps even a bit more than he loves Usopp. The sight he's witnessing is the most adorable thing on earth.

After a while, Usopp just has to ask. "Are you... Going to tell anyone about this?"

"What?!" Sanji seems so offended that he ends up yelling, Pyonnosuke jumping to rest on his shoulder. "No! I love Nami-san, but she would kick this baby out of here. I'm not letting anybody do this to our little family, mon coeur."

Little family.

Okay, that rewired his brain completely.

Usopp stares at Pyonnosuke falling asleep on Sanji's shoulder. Thing he does only when he feels safe enough to be with somebody. He's just as frightened of the world as Usopp is, no wonder he only feels safe around Sanji. The sniper can't fight the smile he makes when he sees this. "I think he likes you."

"Really?" Sanji pats the toad on his little head. "I love him already."

I love you, Usopp wants to say. But he doesn't. He just approaches Sanji without any warning and steals a soft, short kiss from him. The cook blushes uncontrollably while deep red takes over his cheeks. "What was that one for?"

Usopp shurgs his shoulders. "I think I like you even more than Pyonnosuke does."

Sanji can just laugh at that. "You two are very similar, after all." The cook holds his hand while he caresses the back of his palm. "I like you a lot too."

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 8

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: references to violence

Rude Awakening

It was a miracle Kid didn't toss you over his shoulder and steal you away to his cabin. He still very much did the second half of that, but if he had done the first, the crew would have gotten an eyeful. Maybe you could at least get some real clothes. You were currently surveilling the room in front of you. The bed was huge, unsurprisingly, and had a plush, furry duvet thrown over it. You curled your lip at how you could imagine being sweaty and uncomfortable all night under it. Staring more closely, you noticed places on the headboard where things, like, say, handcuffs, could be attached. You raised an eyebrow. Fun. There was a walk-in closet filled with mostly red and black pieces. Next to that, there was a door that you assumed led to a bathroom and in the corner opposite the bed, there was something akin to a drafting table. Directly across from the bed, there was a chaise, Kid's feathery coat thrown over it. 

"This'll do... But where will you sleep?" As if you didn't provoke the man enough. 

Kid threw back his head and laughed. "That mouth of yers gets ya into trouble, doesn't it?"

"It gets me out of trouble, too."  You quipped, heading towards the door that you guessed was to a bathroom. Opening it and peering inside, you guessed correctly. Kid's taste was questionable, but he liked expensive things. There was a black marble bathtub that could fit several people, well, several normal size people. There was also a shower head attached to it in the case that there wasn't time for a luxurious bath. "I would kill for a real shower," you somewhat muttered to yourself. The luxuries of being on a ship were starting to flood back to you: showers, hot water, runningwater, real food, meals, other people, booze, no fucking sand. 

"As much as I'd like to put that theory to the test, I have things to take care of." Kid said mildly regretfully. "Fuckin morons can't live without me." 

"Well, I certainly can," you said, turning the water to the shower on. "I'll be thoroughly enjoying the hot water. Come get me if someone gets maimed." 

Kid lingered to watch you take off your shirt and empty holster. The dim light of the cabin was still brighter than the moonlight and revealed a little bit more. He could tell you were skinnier than you should be, hip bones poking out and rib outlines visible. It wasn't extreme by any means, but he let his mind wander with how you might look with a little more curve. He turned to leave before his imagination went wild. As much as he would love to punish you for being mouthy, he was exhausted and he didn't need his bedroom reputation to be tarnished with a lack of energy. There would be plenty of time for that. Wire let him know earlier that the next island was weeks away. 

The hot water against your skin was heavenly. It could bring tears to your eyes how good this felt after years of not having the privilege. You felt guilty that you were enjoying this so much when poor Mini was remanded to the brig. Before she was escorted there, you assured her that it wouldn't be for long. You half-wished that you had opted for a bath to really indulge. The reason you didn't was that you thought that would have been too tempting for Kid, and although you weren't necessarily against him jumping your bones, this moment was meant to be for you and you alone. When the water started losing its warmth, you decided it was time to get out.

Opening the bathroom door, you expected to see Kid splayed out waiting in his bed. Instead, you were alone. Still without clothes, leaving the cabin was not happening. In that case, you chose the side of the bed that looked the least slept in and made yourself comfortable. Silk sheets...not bad. Exhaustion hit you hard and you didn't have any thoughts past that before having the most restful sleep of your life. Even Kid's eventual snoring didn't wake you up. 

Kid was still shocked that you actually decided to sleep in his bed. He was perplexed that you weren't scared of a total stranger, and one that was an infamous pirate at that. Something was off about you. He just had to figure out what that was. Or wait for Killer to get better and let him figure it out. He was better at that stuff. For a moment, Kid thought about letting you sleep in. After all, you were so quiet like this. That thought lasted about 10 seconds before he grabbed your ankle and dragged you out of bed, your body making a solid thump on the floor. Kid did say you were a rookie, and rookies had to work. 

A surprised cry left your mouth as you found yourself on the floor, partially tangled in sheets. "What the fuck?!" You tugger reflexively at the sheets to cover yourself. 

"Get yer ass up, Rotten. Come on deck when yer dressed, or come naked. I don't care, but yer gonna earn yer stay." 

You narrowed your eyes at the new nickname. As long as it keeps them from asking my real one. He could see the smart remark waiting to launch itself at him, yet before you could get it out, there were clothes thrown at you and he was turning on his heel to leave.  "Aye, aye, Captain." There was a random assortment of clothes, none of them your style, and most of them leaving little to the imagination. "That fucking bastard," you muttered to yourself, holding up the only bottoms in your size, light-washed cut-off jean shorts. They barely qualified as shorts. Sorting through the fabric, you unfortunately found no underwear or bras, only mesh and lace. Considering the tops, you found the least see-through ones that would fit and ended up with a dark-red cropped babydoll tee with a cut part-way down the middle. At least it was tight enough to hold your boobs in place somewhat. It wouldn't be a bad outfit to the right person, though you didn't particularly enjoy the shorts riding up your ass, and you would never pick it out willingly. The shoes were somehow in your size... however they were the tackiest pair of high heels you had ever seen in your life. Barefoot it is. Judging by the array, you thought these clothes were probably left behind by some of the crews' paid lady companions. 

Before heading out, you grabbed your things, not intending to make your place in this cabin permanent. Something blue on the table caught your attention and you grabbed that, too. It was easy to figure out where to go based on the direction of loud voices. The voices ceased as soon as you opened the door to the deck. You internally struggled with whether to shout insults at them or just ignore them. Wisely, you decided to ignore them and find the captain. You didn't feel like immediately drawing more attention to yourself. Your tiny outfit was enough. Out of nowhere, a huge hand was guiding you from the back of your neck towards a side door and shoving you in. Inside was a pleasantly clean room with a distinct anti-septic smell and a few stretchers, one of which was occupied by Killer. 

"Tend to him and then ya can go to the brig and clean up the mess yer beastie made." Kid looked you up and down. "Shame. Was hoping ya would pick the mesh." 

You rolled your eyes. "Maybe I'll wear it tomorrow if you're a good boy." The last two words were drawn out. 

Kid backed you up against one of the counters on the side of the room. "It's cute when ya do all this barking." Kid put his hand on the scarred side of your face, instantly causing your stomach to turn. "But do it in front of my crew and I will make ya regret it." His face hardened and his hand slid to firmly hold your throat, oddly bringing you relief even though it was evident he could strangle you with one hand. Kid looked at you a second longer to make sure you understood and then left, slamming the door.  

You let out the breath you were holding. What was that? Kid's threat didn't scare you. No, it wasn't that. You had been through worse. Which is maybe why it bothered you so much to feel touch on that side of your face. You used to dream about it. Visions crept into your mind of the near past: you in a cell, periodic visitors bringing you near death but never letting you get there, bleeding out on the wood deck of a ship, searing pain on your face and then nothing. Bile rose in your throat, forcing you to run to the sink in the room to vomit. You stayed leaned over the sink for a minute and rinsed your mouth out. 

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