#come closer i think i'd like to that discuss that further

[cosmicdreamgrl]

cause you know how i like it girl, 3d

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Welcome Home - King Ben x Reader Smut!

Warnings: smut, ben cusses :)

Request: Hi! Could i request a king ben smut where he has like a tough meeting about some other country and goes into his office where the reader is waiting for him all sweetly and he just bends her over his desk and gets his frustrations out?

(The way he smiles makes my insides CHURN.)

Everything was planned to a T. After being gone for two weeks, visiting King Charming and Queen Cinderella, Ben was finally returning.

Chad had unfortunately, but not surprisingly, done a stupid business deal with some pirates off the coast of Auradon. Since he was technically in Auradon waters, Ben was the one who had to handle it. After sorting out the issues with the pirates, he’d gone to King Charming’s castle to discuss the matter further, leaving you to govern Auradon.

Not that you minded, you just missed your husband. A great deal. So his arrival needed to be perfect.

His plane would arrive the next morning and so you had taken the initiative to have everything prepared. You’d asked the staff to prepare his favorite meals, planned a date for the next evening, and as your own added touch, we’re now setting the biggest vase of blue roses on his desk.

You opened your phone, looking at the last text he’d sent you.

It was from this morning,

See you soon, my love.

You simply couldn’t wait.

Your days were lonely without him, as were the nights. And selfishly, you’d been missing something else. These past two weeks was the longest you and Ben had ever been apart and your body was definitely feeling the repercussions.

You really missed Ben.

ALL of Ben.

As you turned around, the door to his office opened. Your head looked backwards and your heart jumped at the sight of your husband. His bag fell to the floor at the sight of you.

You froze in place, leaning back on his desk.

“Wha- why are you back?”

He smiles.

“Wanted to surprise you. Didn’t think you’d be in my office, sweetheart.” He walks closer to you. “Are you not happy to see me?” His brow arches.

“No, I am I’m just confused-“ Your words are cut off by a kiss. Ben lifts you up sit on his desk, stepping between your thighs. As much as you want to give in, you push against his chest. “Wait, Ben… how was the meeting?”

His eyes roll.

"Horrible. Chad's dad is an asshole. Chad is an asshole. The pirates were assholes. Now, I'm finally home and I'd really, really like to fuck my wife. Is that okay with you?" His eyes flicker down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"Uh... yeah sure. That's cool."

"Great." His hand wraps around your head, pulling you into him again, lips meeting yours. Your hands find his face, thumbs sliding over his cheeks and pull him closer.

His fingers trail down your body and then grab your waist.

"Ben..." He keeps kissing you. "Do you maybe wanna..." Another. "Go back to our room?" His fingers play with the hem of your blue dress.

His voice comes out hoarse and deep.

"No, I think we are gonna stay right here."

Ben's lips attached to your neck, fingers threading up into your hair to tilt your head back.

The other hand begins pushing your skirt up higher and higher. Your breathing turns uneven as your eyes dart around, hoping no one is going to walk in on your escapades.

"Ben, are you sure..." He pulls away harshly, glaring at you.

"Do I need to bend you over my desk, Y/N?" You suck in a breath as a deep blush crosses your cheeks. His eyebrows raise because of course he notices and then his eyes roll. "Oh for fucks sake."

And then before you can even blink, Ben has you bent over his desk with your skirt over your hips.

You whine as his hips roll into yours, fingers curling over the edge of his desk. Your head turns, ready to glare at him when he rips your underwear clean off.

Your eyes widen in surprise, stammering out his name but go silent when you feel him podding at your entrance.

His voice is hushed next to your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"A loss for words, honey?" His fingers tighten on your hips as he pushes into you. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the table tightens as well. He gives you no time to adjust to him and begins ramming into you. You shove your face into your arm, biting the flesh to contain your lewd sounds. "Fuckin' hell. Missed you so much."

One of Ben's hands leaves your side to press down on your back and you arch in response. Though you cannot see him, Ben grins. He loves your body's response to his. He can never get enough.

His jaw sets as he nears his orgasm, he'd missed you so much that he could barely hold it in. The sounds of his groans fill the office, along with the slapping of hips and the wetness of your core.

Desperate to make you come before him, his fingers dip between your conjoined hips to circle your clit. You jolt in response, an especially loud moan escaping your throat, boosting Ben's already inflated ego even more.

Before either of you know it, your pelvic muscles squeezing uncontrollably around him and his body collapses onto yours, absolutely spent. The two of you are silent while you come down from your highs and then Ben places soft kisses across your shoulders.

"Welcome home, my king." He groans as he feels himself harden inside of you.

"Oh, honey..." He pulls back, ready for round two. "Welcome home indeed."

Not sure if this is what you had in mind but there ya go. Hope you enjoy:)

[the-fiction-witch]

Discussing The Matter

Media - Game Of Thrones Character - Viserys Targaryen Couple - Viserys X Reader Reader - (OC) Visenya Targaryen (Twin sister of Viserys) Rating - Smut (Incest) Word Count - 3008

Visenya made her way through Illrio’s large impressive palace in her loose blue gown in the typical pentos style. She matched into viserys chambers seeing his books and weapons lining the place, his large circle marble bath in the centre where he currently sat being attended by maids,

"Go." She demanded and the maids and staff cleared out leaving them alone,

Viserys looked at her, admiring her, she looked like an actual goddess to him. "What a commanding tone, you come into my chambers uninvited and demand my servants to leave?"

"Just because you have a cock! Does not entitle you to make all the decisions regarding our family viserys!" she said as she came over and stood at the steps of his tub meaning he couldn't get out until she was done talking to him

“Did you come all the way here to discuss my cock? or is there a different reason, my sweet sister?"

"viserys. I'm serious." She complained, "You can't really allow illrio to make this match for Dany. The Dothraki are cruel, their Karls take multiple wives, slaves, butchers and bastards to their women!"

Viserys rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bath, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling, "Oh, come on, do you really expect me to care about Dany? She's already a woman flowered, it's time she started fulfilling her duties as a woman."

"... And what of me? I am a woman flowered why did you not sell me?"

Viserys' gaze snapped back to her, his eyes searching her face in disbelief, a hint of anger in his voice as he answered. "You are my twin, my other half, my equal. I would never trade you away to some stinking barbarian."

"Dany is our baby sister. Is she not of your care too?" She said as she slowly stepped up the steps and into his bath with him, crawling over to sit in his lap her dress immediately soaking,

Viserys' breath hitches as his sister straddles him, his hands resting on her hips instinctively and pulling her closer to him in the bathtub. He looks up at her, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desire, as he speaks, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you, but that doesn't apply to Daenerys. She might be our sister, but she's still just a woman. Her role is to obey us and bear heirs."

"I am a woman," she whispered against his lips,

His eyes darkened with lust, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as she spoke. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, his hands sliding up underneath her wet gown to caress the bare skin of her back. "You are the exception."

"am I? I am older. I am ... Arguably more desirable. Dany is a child. And you sell her away, surely illrio has asked you as... The one with the cock. To make arrangements to send me away" she explained playing with running her fingers on his face and hair, as she shifts her hips on him

A sharp intake of breath escaped him as her hips moved against his, his grip on her waist tightening as he tries to keep himself from losing control. His eyes darkened even further, the desire burning inside him making it hard to think straight, the thought of losing her to a stranger, painful to imagine. "He suggested it, yes, but I refused. You're mine, always mine, I'd rather die than let another man have you."

"even if you got your army for me," she cooed moving her hips more knowing she can force his answers out of him

A low, primal moan slipped from his lips as her movements continued to drive him mad with desire, his own hips bucking against her involuntarily, his hands sliding down to her thighs, holding her in place. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his words coming out as a hoarse whisper. "I would burn every kingdom from Qarth to Asshai to the ground before letting another man touch you, to hell with my army."

"but she is sellable? Your own sister?"

His expression hardened, his lust momentarily forgotten as reminders of the current argument returned to his mind. He pulled back, looking at her with a mixture of anger and resignation. "She is. She is younger, more innocent, still pure. She can give me alliances and armies. What can I possibly gain from you?"

she glared and went to move off him

he caught her hips and slammed her down on his lap, the water of the tub sloshing around them. His grip was firm, not letting her move away from him. "Don't you dare. You came into my bathtub and straddled me, you're not going anywhere without me finishing what you started."

"you know what you would gain from me. An army, your crown. More allies in this world. You have two sisters both of which you can sell off and still be open to marry across the sea when you are king."

His hands on her hips held her firmly against him, forcing her to feel the hard length of him, his chest heaving as his breathing quickened. He moved his face closer to hers, their lips just barely touching as he spoke. "Why do you think I want an army or a crown when I have you, hmm? You're worth more to me than all the gold and armies in this world. I don't care about marriages or alliances, I just want you, only you, always and forever."

she turned her face away so he couldn't kiss her "This is cruel to her viserys."

His fingers dug into her waist, his voice coming out as a hoarse growl, frustration and desire mixing in his tone. "Why do you care so much about what happens to Dany? You're mine. You belong to me and I belong to you. She has to do her duty, even if it means offering her body and fertility to a barbarian. Why can't you just accept that?"

"... We ... Are not a possibility"

His grip on her tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched her, a mixture of anger and hurt in his expression. "And why not? We're both Targaryen, I want you, you want me, we should be perfect together. So why can't we be a possibility?"

"we are siblings." She reminds

Viserys' jaw clenched, his breathing growing ragged. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "I don't care. I don't care if it's a sin, if the Seven disapprove, if the Gods themselves send lightning to strike us down. All I know is that you drive me mad, that I want you, burn for you, need you more than anything in this world. And you cannot deny that you feel the same."

"targaryen wed brother to sister for thousands of years... But that time is over. No land would allow us to be as we wish."

His hands on her hips trembled as he struggled to hold himself back, his heart aching with frustration and unfulfilled desire. "Who cares what other lands allow, why should we care what the rest of the world thinks? We are Targaryens, dragonsblood coursing through our veins, we are above those pathetic mortals and their pitiful little rules. Why can't we just forget about the world and be together, you and me?"

she sighed and shifted her hips again "We aren't done discussing the matter"

He groaned as her hips moved against him again, his body responding to her unconsciously. He tried to focus on the conversation, but all he could think about was the fact she was on top of him, her body pressed against his, her breath on his face. He took a deep breath and tried to collect himself, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. "What further is there to discuss, my sweet sister?"

"when she is married, what will happen to us? She will be forced away with the dothraki as a breeding slave... And us? Are we to remain guests of illiro forever, worried always he is to sell us too?" She got faster

Viserys closed his eyes, fighting the wave of pleasure that washed over him as she picked up her pace, his hands on her hips now almost digging into her skin. His mind was struggling to focus, and he had to take another deep breath before responding, his voice coming out strained and hoarse. "No... I won't let that happen. I'm building an army, we will get our home back. I will be king, and you will be..." he trailed off, his breath catching in his throat as he let the fantasy play out in his mind. He stopped talking, his imagination conjuring up a vision of himself on the Iron Throne, with her sitting on a throne next to him. Him claiming her as his in front of the Seven Kingdoms and no one being able to protest their union. It was a tantalizing, seductive idea, one that made his heart hammer furiously in his chest, and the words spilled from his lips in a reverent whisper. "You will be my Queen."

"as tempting as that is. Where are we to live in the mean time? Here withilliro? With Dany and her horse lord slavers? Or go homeless while you build this army" she whispered against his lips as she moved her hands pulling her dress a little,

Her words broke into his fantasy, but the sight of her nearly naked body straddling him left him too distracted to think about the specifics of their situation. His hands roamed her body, roaming up her thighs, his fingers gripping her hips, his eyes drifting from her face to her chest. "We will stay here, for now. I need time to plan, to gather allies. We'll have to be patient, I'm afraid, my sweet sister."

"and If illrio betrays us?" She moved back down slowly gasping and softly moaning as she moved down his shaft,

Viserys gritted his teeth, his grasp on her tightening as he tried to focus on anything but the pleasure building within him. However, the sight of her sliding down his body, her breaths and noises adding fuel to the fire burning within him, made it near impossible to think straight. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "He won't. We need him, and he needs us. He knows that."

she grunted as she finally reached his hilt, "...does he?"

Viserys' breath hitched at the feel of her pressing against him, his eyes darkening with desire as his fingers dug into her hips, his head tipping back as he struggled to keep the last bit of his control. He spoke through gritted teeth, the words coming out as a primal growl. "He does. He better, otherwise he's a dead man."

"... The seven kingdoms will not be thrilled, of a set of twins as long and queen" she spoke as she nibbled his neck and began to ride

Viserys' head lolled back as she moved against him, his eyes closing as his body reacted to her touches and the feel of her mouth on his neck. He fought to keep his voice steady, his words coming out as a ragged whisper, his hands on her hips moving her faster against him, his own hips involuntarily bucking up to meet hers, his body on fire from the feel of her. "The Seven Kingdoms can go to hell, they have no say in what we do." His words dissolved into a deep growl, all sense and reason abandoned in the onslaught of pleasure and need. All he could think about was her, her body, her skin, her gasps and the way she rode him, driving him mad with desire. He moved his hands to her thighs, gripping them tightly, wanting to hold her in place and never let go. "I need you. Now."

she nodded and got faster riding at a decent pace the water moving around them

Viserys groaned deeply, the sound coming from deep within his chest. His hands on her thighs slid up to her hips, helping her move faster against him, his own body meeting hers with a need that bordered on primal. He tried to speak, but all coherent thought had left him, leaving only desire and need. "Gods, yes, keep going, don't stop." His lips found hers in a desperate, hungry kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, exploring and tasting her as his hands on her hips pulled her closer, desperate to feel more of her, his body pressed against hers. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he panted, the pleasure building and building, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. "You're driving me insane, sweet sister."

her hand trailed Into his hair during the kiss, her hips moving on their own mindlessly searching for pleasure

He groaned as her hand threaded through his hair, the feeling sending jolts of pleasure down his spine, adding to the unbearable ecstasy building inside him. His tongue tangled with hers, his hands on her hips guiding her movements, his own body reacting to her, his hips meeting hers in a frantic, desperate rhythm. "So close... don't stop, don't stop, please..."

she screamed biting his shoulder as she reached her orgasm her body trembling and freezing up clenching around him,

He cursed under his breath as her body shuddered and clenched around him, the sensation of her climaxing driving him over the edge as well, his own release crashing through him in a wave of ecstasy. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, a guttural, primal moan escaping him as he held her tight, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. "Sweet sister... gods, you drive me mad with desire."

she gasped her head laying against his bare chest "We... We can't keep doing this..."

His hold on her hips loosened, his hands moving up to her waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her skin. His body was still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure, but her words sunk in, and he forced himself to be serious. "Why not? We both want it, we both need it."

"and what happens when my belly grows heavy?" She asked against his lips

His lips brushed against hers, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, his thoughts and feelings swirling within him. The mention of her belly rounding and growing was an image that caused his heart to clench in his chest, a mix of desire and tenderness stirring within him. "Then we will deal with it, together. And when your belly is heavy, I will worship you, my sweet sister, and I will kiss every inch of your body."

she chuckled "Would you sell our baby away for more army, as you do for Dany?"

He froze at her words, a stab of guilt and shame going through him at the thought, at the comparison. He held her tight, his fingers digging into her skin as he tried to form a response. "No, never. Our child would never be sold or bartered, I swear it. I would sooner sell my own soul than let anything or anyone harm a hair on our child's head."

"but our sister?"

He sighed, his heart heavy with guilt and regret at the mention of Daenerys. The reality of their situation weighed heavily on him, and he knew he couldn't deny the truth. "I had no choice," he murmured, his voice laced with pain and regret. "I need alliances and armies to take back my throne. I cannot do it on my own. If it means selling her off, then so be it."

"then why not me?"

His eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched at her words. The thought of selling her off, of giving her away to another man, sent a surge of anger and possessiveness through him. "Because you're different," he growled, his grip on her hips tightening. "You're mine, my sweet sister, and nobody else's. The mere thought of another man touching you, looking at you, claiming you... it drives me mad with rage." He pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze with an intensity that spoke of the depth of his feelings for her. He spoke in a low, hoarse voice, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination. "You're mine, sweet sister, and I'll burn the entire world to the ground before I let anyone take you from me. You're mine to worship, to cherish, to protect. You will never be sold or bartered like a piece of property. You will be my queen, by my side, and none will dare question our union."

She nodded and laid on his chest with a slight sigh

He held her close, his arms wrapped around her tight, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her bare back. He took a deep, steadying breath, the feel of her on his chest bringing him a strange sense of comfort and peace. He spoke quietly, his voice soft and vulnerable. "I mean it, sweet sister. You're the most important thing in this world to me. I'd give up my throne, my crown, everything, just to keep you by my side. I love you."

"I love you too, I just worry for her is all. I worry for all of us." She says

He nodded, his expression somber as he thought of their sister. The weight of responsibility and worry weighed heavily on his shoulders. "I know, sweet sister, and I share your worries. I wish there was an easier path for us, a way to take back the Iron Throne without selling Dany off like cattle. But I see no other way. I need an army, and alliances, and I need them now."

she nodded pulling him into a kiss

He responded to her kiss, his lips moving against hers hungrily. His hands roamed her body, his touch desperate and possessive, as if he couldn't get close enough to her. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged and his voice ragged. "I need you, sweet sister. I need you now."

[okkotsuus]

ex encounters (bllk pt.4) !

features: alexis ness ... tabito karasu ... eita otoya ... kenyu yukimiya

contents: bad exes, general tw, confrontation, harassment, google translate german, strong language

tw for the exes: controlling, domineering, power struggle, accusations, fighting, public scenes, revenge, grabbing (shoulder), trying to get back together, harassment, manipulation, gaslighting, falling out of love, wanting you back, possessive themes

notes: FINALLY FINISHING THIS SERIES and desperately hoping this will cure my writer's block </3

pt.1 — pt.2 — pt.3

like kaiser, ness would be so pressed that your ex would even have the audacity to so much as even think of you. but unlike kaiser, ness would not be trying to throw hands: bro would just be gaslighing your ex into thinking he can't stand a chance against him.

you met ness online, trying to learn german through an anonymous messaging forum: where he was trying to learn your native language. the both of you had no clue who the other was, becoming online friends for years, long before you had ever even met your ex.

when your ex came into your life, ness noticed that you were online less and less. when asked, you gave the sheepish answer that your boyfriend didn't support you learning german, not wanting you to know a language that he didn't.

despite the red flag that was, and all his other warning signs, you stayed with him. you still learned german, now only messaging your pen pal when your lover slept or was away.

but, one day, you came home to your (now ex) boyfriend sitting on the couch. he found out you were still messaging ness, and he was mad.

it lead to a blow-out fight, you ended up having to flee and stay with a friend, collecting your stuff over a week while he was at work. you never saw him again.

eventually, you finished learning german. after a long discussion, ness agreed to meet you at the airport. the second you touched down in berlin, you rushed out the gates to see that cute boy with caramel hair and magenta tips holding your name on a sign. that would be the man you'd come to love so very dearly.

eventually, you and ness moved in together in germany, for his soccer career. you returned home with him for the holidays, to visit family.

as ness and you walked hand in hand through the streets of your hometown, bantering idly in german, you stumbled across a face you thought you'd never see again.

"ah, i see that i was right to not want you to learn german..." his voice said from a little further away, eyes glaring at the two of you. you instantly stiffened, and ever perceptive ness instantly figured out what was happening, muttering a quiet "verdammt" under his breath.

as your ex sauntered closer, ness wordlessly stood in front of you. though he wasn't the most imposing figure, you could see his distaste written plainly on his face, sneering at your ex.

"you left me for a german terrier... i see your standards really lowered..." your ex mumbled, chuckling as he glanced at ness. "keep it up, just try me schwein..." ness threatened, squaring his shoulders.

this went back and forth enough until ness had finally barked out enough insults with that near-crazed look on his face that had him shaking his head and storming away.

your boyfriend, turned to you, like a dog awaiting praise. it had you giggling and cupping his face to press scattered kisses along his cheeks. "thank you, mein held..."

"anything for you, mein schätzchen. i'd do it for you in a heartbeat..."

karasu would be smug at first before quickly getting annoyed. he would want to throw hands, shoving the guy away and mocking him, probably gets the cops called on him. at least he doesn't look bad in cuffs ig??

when karasu was introducing you to a group of fans who watch bllktv, you didn't expect to see your ex. "wow, y/n, what are you now... a gold-digger?" he taunts, stepping into your view.

your boyfriend was off to the side, signing things, blissfully unaware to your torment as his back was turned to you. so, you decided to be the bigger person and just ignore him.

your ex was one of those run-of-the-mill revenge people, would make fun of you at any given chance now that you were separated. you don' even remember why you broke up, probably some snide comment of his that ticked you off. but one thing about him was that he hated being ignored.

karasu, who heard a guy's voice and figured you were getting hit on. he knows that you're a catch, and he trusts you, so usually he lets you humble people on your own unless things get out of hand. well, things got out of hand.

he spun around when he heard you yelp, eyes meeting the hand that gripped your shoulder. in an instant he was shoving your ex away from you, guiding you so gently behind him that it contrasted with the same movement he had used against your ex.

"trash shouldn't touch treasure." he spits, glaring down as you ex stumbles on his feet. just like that, with a shout, your ex charges back at karasu.

like a professional, karasu throws him back again, this time with more force. but desperation does something to inhibition and your ex lunges back again, sending a punch across your boyfriend's face.

karasu just chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose as he grabs your ex's collar with one hand and socks him with the other, sending him to the ground.

they continue this one-sided fighting until flashes of blue and red flare in the corner of your peripheral. then they're both in cuffs and all three of you including those fans from earlier are being questioned.

then, karasu walks away from his cops, rubbing his now-restraint-free wrists as he saunters up to you with that coy smirk. "hey there pretty thing, your jailbird's back..."

he's taken aback as you jump into his arms, hugging him tight as your hands hold him like he was fragile. he just smiles, wrapping his arms around you and kissing he side of your head with a gentle affection.

"hey now, don't cry. i'd gladly get cuffed again for keeping you safe."

otoya is another smug one, but unlike karasu he is not eager to be fighting. otoya's smart and knows just what to do, plays innocent if it ever gets to the point where cops come in.

of all people in the world, otoya has certainly had his share of running into an unpleasant ex. he's the one who will understand you best, which is why he stands next to you with a cocky grin as your ex desperately tries to explain how he's better for you than him.

"i don't have a history of cheating... unlike present company..." your ex digs, shooting a smug look at otoya, who grumbles out a "c'mon, it was one time..."

you just chuckle, shaking your head in exasperation with a heavy sigh. "no, you didn't cheat. but you're still a manipulative asshole." he huffs, rolling his eyes and mumbling curses under his breath.

"you pretentious bitch, i never once hurt you. it was all for your betterment because you can't take care of yourself." your ex spits, getting closer until otoya puts an arm between you two.

"don't talk to what's mine like that, back it up bud." otoya muses with a grin, pushing your ex back lightly, putting himself between you two. your ex stammers, glaring at you over your boyfriend's shoulder.

seemingly, all was fine until the next time you were out with otoya, your ex appeared again: delivering the same take-me-back speech. it was getting tiring and you felt your patience begin to wear thin with every emotionally-charged word that spilled from his lips.

you groaned, running your hands down your face with a tired sigh, otoya silently wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"listen, i think you should just go, man. this is getting pretty pathetic... i know that y/n's a real catch, but sometime's you gotta know when you can't reel a babe in..." otoya says, somehow getting even more smug as he presses you into his side, leering down at your ex.

eventually, after a few more snide remarks from otoya, your ex finally gave up. allowing you to slump in your boyfriend's arms, letting ot a tired sigh as you kissed his cheek. "thanks, 'toya..."

"i know why he's so desperate, there really is no one like you. makes me happy that i ended my player streak for you..."

an angel sent from heaven. arguably the best person to run into your ex with. yukimiya is calm and composed enough if your ex is temperamental, and he's tall and handsome to scare anyone else away. 10/10 literal perfect man.

yukimiya’s a pretty boy, he’s tall and lean with an angelic smile. he’s a catch, by far the best man you’ve ever dated. he only proves this to be even more true when the two of you run into your ex.

there wasn’t necessarily any bad blood between you two, he had just suddenly broken up with you on the claim that “he fell out of love.” it hurt you like hell, of course, but there was no reason for you to resent him for it. so you two left on good terms, occasionally wishing a happy birthday to the other until the friendship too fizzled out.

then you met yukimiya through a mutual friend and fell hard, but he fell harder. so here you are, happily sipping a blue slushy while yukimiya held your hand and chattered about soccer.

“blue was always our favorite…” a voice rang from behind you, yukimiya stopped drinking his red slushy as he turned with you. there he was, your ex with a sheepish grin.

you quirked a brow, confused. you hadn’t talked to him in nearly a year, ever since you and yuki had started dating.

he smiles sweetly at you, the kind that has you realizing where this is leading. “sorry, i’ve just been nostalgic about us lately…” he said with a chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

your eyes flit over to your boyfriend, catching the furrow of his brow. yukimiya was a really nice guy, he wasn’t a fan of confrontation. but you are.

so you grin at your ex, waving a hand dismissively. “sorry man, i’m in a very happy relationship…”

the second he tries to protest you swiftly shut him up, sticking out your tongue. at first, your ex was confused, then he realized that your tongue was purple. his eyes flit between your blue slushy and yukimiya’s red one, sighing and walking away.

yukimiya’s face goes bright red as he stares at you, “that’s not why your tongue is purple, you just wanted to try mine!” he protests.

you chuckle, grinning at him, “yeah, but he doesn’t have to know that…” yukimiya just sighs before grinning back at you.

"i don’t like lying, so why don’t you let me do it authentically…"

okkotsuus 23

[public-trans-it-deactivated20240]

i was a trans man until after a lot of build up of doubting myself, i finally realized that we are putting ourselves further into boxes by not accepting that we are the biological sex that we are and we can do WHATEVER we want at the same time.

clothes and makeup and certain interests do not equal gender.

and not liking being a woman is an unfortunately natural symptom of puberty and/or experiencing society’s deeply ingrained misogyny. and everyone deserves support for those problems.

but we can all fight together against gender social constructs in a healthy way without prescribing people hormones and invasive cosmetic surgery to make them more like the sex they “should” be according to… social constructs…. and help them be comfortable in who they are

Alright. Its been like 9 fucking months that I have been staring down this ask. What better time than to give TERFs some nuance than right in the middle of a fucking hate campaign going on where people (well... singular person probably) are calling me a TERF. This wont backfire.

This post arrived in my inbox shortly after I made another post about gender, and just how fucking weird it can be, and how I genuinely believed every single person on this planet has a fascinating relationship with gender, and so much nuance and personal identity in theirs. Even cis people. Even TERFs. In the tags, I even begrudgingly encouraged TERFs to talk about their gender on that post if they wanted. I genuinely think that TERFs do have really cool relationships with gender. As I mentioned in those tags, the quickest way to explode a group of TERFs is to get them to start talking about their own relationships with gender, and see how vastly different it is, and watching them stab each other in the back over it. So I told them to ramble away about how they view gender, as long as they stayed the fuck away from the rest of the blog WHICH THIS ANON CLEARLY FUCKING IGNORED.

But... this anon does bring up another topic I want to talk about.

Detransition.

Read More

I am a huge supporter of detransitioning. This is... surprisingly... not a very common stance in the trans community, and it breaks my fucking heart. Like, I get it. I understand why. A LOT of detransitioners, like the person in this ask, end up weaponizing their feelings of gender against other trans people.

My support of transition comes from the intersection of two very central beliefs of mine:

Everyone should explore their gender without feeling a need to commit! This is a pretty common belief in the trans community! Damn near universal in fact! We even have a fun little term we use for people who decide to play around with gender, only to end up a bit closer to where they started and being perfectly happy with that: Cis+. Someone who is cis, but at least put in the work to understand the trans experience, and actually CHOOSE to remain Cis instead of just defaulting to it with societal pressure. Many trans people are much more comfortable around 'Cis+' people, because they know these are people who have taken the time and put in the work of being an ally. Self examination isn't easy, especially not publicly, and doing so is genuinely one of the strongest ways a Cis person could ever show their support.

It is never too late to transition. This is also a pretty common belief in the trans community! It is... sadly not quite as universal though. But it is something very important that needs to be said. You could be 80 years old, sitting in a retirement home, and go "You know what? I think I'd rather wear a dress and be treated like a lady. I don't want to be buried as a man." And I think every single trans person should have that freedom!

I was discussing this with @thydungeongal the other day, far more paraphrased than this post, and she said something incredible that has been knocking around in my head ever since.

"Gender is an ongoing process"

Those five words they said to me sum up my feelings far more than this entire post could. Gender IS an ongoing process. My gender has changed SO MUCH over the past three decades. From the straightjacket of assigned gender that I was once forced into; to the very stylish and still lovable finely tailored suit of femininity that grew a little too stuffy to wear constantly, even though I do still enjoy it and try it on from time to time; to the wonderful and freeing losely fitting clothing of being aegogender, finally feeling free to be myself and just act naturally and feel natural without having to keep up an appearance!

And I think, there is no length of time you can try out being trans, and trying out new genders, before eventually coming to the realization you were cis all along. Even if you started HRT. Even if you got SRS. Heck, I don't even think you should have to call yourself trans to do either of those things in the first place, why would I be upset that someone did them and then realized they weren't trans? No single moment in your life should EVER lock your gender in place into some unchanging, set in stone thing.

So I support detransitioners completely, with my entire heart. They deserve just as much support as every other 'Cis+' person out there.

So anon, while many people may hate you and lash out at you for detransitioning, I want you to know, that I am not one of them. It sounds like your detransition might have been forced by peer pressure, which is heart breaking to hear. No one should ever force their own gender expectations on another. I hope that wasn't the case. I hope you came to the decision yourself, after realizing whats right for you. I will never give you hate for your detransition.

I WILL ABSOLUTELY GIVE YOU HATE FOR BEING A FUCKING TERF THOUGH. YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE WITH GENDER DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO POLICE THE GENDER OF OTHERS, FUCK OFF. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

[thewintercorner]

I saw your post discussing worldenders, and then I saw a someone else's post pointing out how the 1000 withers in season 2 was PARROT'S IDEA, and Spoke was the one who was trying to reel Parrot back, and then I saw Parrot's unstable video (hunted by minecraft's deadliest players), and I had this lightbulb moment and I NEEEEEEED to talk to someone abt this even though I might be wrong and just sleep deprived

Parrot could technically count as Lifesteal's first worldender.

Except in his case, his motives for being a worldender would not be out of understanding lifesteal's cycles, but out of pure rage and desire for vengeance. I've always thought that his biggest character flaw was his tunnel vision towards his ambitions, but having him tunnel in on vengeance against Clown in S2 basically set off all of the cycles that came afterwards because of how devastating it was. I was heavily reminded of this fact while watching Parrot's unstable video.

While not on Spoke or even Mapic/Zam levels, I'd argue that Parrot was the progenitor of even the concept of worldenders. Sure, Clown became the deadliest player, and he dominated the server for a whole, making it super competetive, but Parrot's revenge path set the tone of revenge and destruction for the rest of the seasons after that, and that was how Spoke became a worldender, and how all the lifesteal season endings after that became just as chaotic.

hello anon i have been thinking about this ask for weeks

i've also gone back through and watched spoke's s2 mega vid a couple times recently and my thoughts mainly revolve around how you define a worldender (in terms of lifesteal, at least). if you just take the word at face value, you get something approximating:

world: a planet or universe; in the context of minecraft, a server

ender: one who ends things

worldender: one who ends worlds

which is a totally fair definition! i mean, it's what the word says, right? by that definition, parrot is absolutely a worldender; he's the guy that (co-)ended the world.

however, in the context of lifesteal, i think it's important to define the term a little differently. that definition technically includes whichever admin pulls the plug on the server itself; if you wanted to stretch it, you could even say the withers themselves are that kind of worldender.

we could restrict it to people who do things, who carry out their actions and/or lives, in pursuit of intentionally ending the world. that's a lot closer to what we mean, and is also a valid definition! parrot also falls under this; he was definitely trying to end the world.

however, i'd like to make one further distinction: between people ending the world because they want to and people doing it because they have to -- in other words, people doing it in service of the cycles. you can kind of think of the distinction as worldkillers and worldenders; worldkillers do it of their own accord and desires, as a choice they alone make. worldenders do it because they know they must; someone has to put the world down, lest it agonizingly wither away and bring all of them down with it.

this is where parrot splits off (in my view). i think there's a fundamental difference between his motives and spoke's, even if the result is the same. i don't know that spoke really wanted to end the world, but he saw where things were going and knew someone had to. parrot wanted the world dead.

essentially what i'm saying is parrot was doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. he did end the world, but he wasn't doing it as a Lifesteal Worldender with an understanding of the cycles and why that was a good thing to do, why it was necessary. to me, part of the essence of being a true worldender is having this understanding, being able to meditate on your decision and still come to the same conclusion time and time again, world after world. parrot isn't able to do that.

i also think it's interesting how he relies on spoke to see his vision unfold. i think this speaks to some broader havocduo dynamics, for one, but it also rings to me as parrot knowing that he is not able to end the world himself. he has the vision, has the plan, but he knows it's out of his scope. i don't think it's lack of dedication, either; parrot was the driving force behind so many of the poggies' big traps over the course of the season. and yet, he tells spoke "you're the only one who can do this."

i think (whether this is something parrot knew or not) this comes down to really a simple difference between them: parrot wants an apocalypse. spoke's willing to become one.

you can kind of feel this in the final fight. parrot's concerned about dying, still, about getting jumped and losing hearts; spoke's getting hunted for much of the time as well, but he doesn't care as long as he gets the withers down. parrot says at one point "spoke, look what you've done!" and spoke replies "this is our mission! our mission is complete." parrot also continuously mentions m.o.b as their enemies in this, as if the reality that this event is much, much bigger than their war hasn't really set it.

the fact that spoke goes out to his own final wither really exemplifies this, i think. dying to your own apocalypse is an extraordinary show of acceptance and of relinquishment, of saying "i did all this and it will end the world and i am proud." parrot is still fighting to stay alive the entire time, even after the final wither. spoke goes out with it, a death for a birth, because he knows his work is done, and he knows the world will die, and he chooses to go out on his own terms instead of fighting for life on a sinking ship. parrot wanted the apocalypse, but he wasn't ready to die in it, wasn't ready for it to take down his allies just the same as his enemies. spoke was.

i guess as a nice, succinct way to summarize all of this: parrot wanted to end a war, definitively. spoke understood he was ending the entire world.

as a final note, i don't want to discredit parrot as the genesis. i believe that every blossoming worldender needs a catalyst to push them to their full revelation and potential, and i think parrot very much acted as that for spoke. parrot was, in many ways, the reason season 2 ended, but he is no more responsible for the apocalypse itself than the chemical signals that tell the puppet master's hand to move.

(these are, of course, only my opinions; believe whatever you want to about the block guys :))

[whiskey-bumblebee]

something we can share

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: ~860

A/N: This one is specifically written for a plus size reader!!! It me :) Also please forgive any typos, I had acrylics put on yesterday and they are inhibiting my typing like you would not believe! Mentions of Hotch being physically smaller than reader, also extensive discussion of clothing related to size (but no specific numbers mentioned!!)

There's nothing like the sound of your sigh to put your partner on edge. The various intonations all mean different things: I'm hungry, I want to go home, I'm feeling down, please fuck me, I love you, and of course, frustration. This one, however, isn't one that Hotch has heard before.

He's paging through a book, brushing up on his understanding of sociopaths (a new study just came out), and he glances up at you for further cues. You set down the book that you've been reading and change your position slightly, swinging your legs into Hotch's lap as you sit together in your reading nook slash sunroom, beside the kitchen. He runs his hands over your legs, giving your feet a gentle rub.

"You know how teenagers wear each others' clothes when they're dating?"

"Sure."

"Is that awful? Possessive?"

"Well," He says, setting down his own book, realizing this conversation will be more than a few words. "Not really. It's common practice, as far as I know. Why?"

"I'd love to wear your clothes," You explain. "And you know why I don't, right?"

"No," He says, thoughtfully. "I just figured it wasn't your thing."

"I don't think they'd fit me," You say lightly. "I love your body, and I love my body, but they're not at all the same," You smile.

He's cautious here, knowing that a misstep, any misstep, might be more harmful than he knows, so he nods slowly and allows you to continue.

"What if we bought a quarter zip that we can both wear? Something we can share? And then when I miss you, I can wear it, and when you miss me, you can wear it."

"I think that's a great idea," He says, still running his hands over your calves. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it before. Has it made you feel... Left out?"

You shrug. "I feel like we see it in movies a lot, that the girl just slips into his button up and it's oversized, and sexy, and that's not... It doesn't feel real to me. Like, what about the boobs? They're just magically going to fit in a men's work shirt? The two of them are just perfectly almost the same size?"

Hotch nods, and motions for you to come closer and sit on his lap. You do so, sitting on his lap and running your hands through his short hair.

"I love your body. I'm glad it doesn't look like mine," He laughs. "I find your body... soft. And sexy. Every time I look at you, I feel lucky. And every other time I look at you," He drops his voice lower, "I'm thinking about touching every inch of you."

A shiver runs down your spine, and Hotch takes a short inhale as the sensation makes you squirm on top of him.

"I feel like it's one way that people can see me as yours," You murmur as he kisses your neck. "And wouldn't it turn you on to see me wearing something of yours?"

He hums against your skin. "I think if you had anything else going for you in that department, I'd never let you leave the bedroom."

"So that's a yes," You laugh lightly, gently urging his head away from your neck.

"There are other ways I can make sure people know you're mine," He grins, slipping his cold hands under your shirt.

You sigh happily under his touch. "So we can go buy one tomorrow?"

He nods. "And if you want, I can wear it while I-"

Your laugh cuts him off. "Okay, cowboy. Hold your horses."

________

Within days, you think it's the greatest purchase you've ever made as a couple. It's a size or two too big for you, so you can have that oversized comfy feeling, and it's even bigger on Hotch. He's started wearing it around the house with only briefs underneath, since it covers him to his upper thigh, and you're more than happy to take in the sight of your man's legs more often than you normally could.

It smells like the perfect combination of both of you: fresh and sweet, heady and unique. Hotch has a twinge of pride every time he sees you in it, that warm possessive feeling, and you love burrowing your nose into the collar when he's away on long cases. He even wears it into the office once or twice on really cold mornings, slipping it on over his suit to stay warm while he walks from the car park to the elevator.

Emily is about to question him about the odd fit when Penelope lights up with glee. "It's her sweater! He's wearing her sweater!"

And while Aaron may blush a little, having forgotten that he was even wearing it, he's not at all embarrassed to correct her. "It's our sweater."

He tugs it off, over his head, and he looks as crisp and professional in his suit as ever. Back to being the stern, stoic boss. At least until he walks into his office and presses the fleece to his nose, unable to hold back a smile at the soft smell of you in the fabric.

[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 3

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, vomit, mentions of attempted sexual abuse, traumatic flashbacks, discussion of trauma, general angst

---------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing I remember next is vomit. There's acid pouring out of my mouth and sweat covering my body, and I'm emptying my stomach again and again and again until I don't think I even have bones anymore.

I'm hunched over, gripping the sides of a bucket so hard my knuckles turn white and my fingertips bleed. My clothing sticks to my body, and my mouth is writhing with the taste of vomit and bitter salt. My right hand reaches under me, trying to find some stability and trace the seven grooves in the floor. I can't feel them. The floor beneath me isn't the smooth wood I'm accustomed to, but a bumpy, moist texture that makes me want to vomit again.

Where am I what am I doing why am I sick what's happened-

A hand gingerly touches my back, and a white-hot pain tears through my body, making me scream. The hand quickly withdraws, taking the pain with it. At first, I think it might be the honey-man, then nausea rolls through me again as I picture the not-boy's hands touching me again, and I'm gagging over the bucket.

"It- it's alright, I won't touch you again," says a voice behind me, and I want to whirl around and put space between me and whoever is calling out to me, but the most my body will do is heave itself around slowly. My limbs feel heavy, and my head is pounding with the movement, and I catch a glimpse of dark blonde hair before I let out a choked sob that I don't quite understand. I spent my life serving the not-boy, why do I now want to scream at the thought of him being here?

Despite my mind's screaming protests, the blonde hair moves closer to me, and the blurred figure becomes a face. I relax slightly - it isn't him.

But I can't convince myself that I'm okay. I can't remember ever seeing anyone that looked like this man, he was never someone that came into the not-boy's room. He wasn't the honey-man, and I'd never heard his voice even murmuring in the hallways or through the walls.

"My name is Hongo," he speaks again, gesturing toward himself. "I'm a doctor, I'm here to make sure you're okay, and I'm not going to hurt you."

A doctor?

I stay silent, and he speaks again.

"What's your name?"

My mouth is sticky and unyielding as I try to open it. He looks at me, not speaking.

Is he just waiting for me to say something?

He's sitting cross-legged across from me, and I feel very... studied under his gaze. There's a scar creeping from his hairline, and most of his dirty blonde hair is pulled into a ponytail near the top of his head, the rest shaved from the top of his ear down. He's clearly older, but he moves with the energy of a much younger man, still full of life.

My tongue loosens, and I finally say, "They call me Cheeper."

He smiles at me then, all teeth that splits his face in two. He's missing a couple of teeth on one side, and I find myself staring at the gaps.

"But is that your name?" he presses further.

I really didn't think it was, the longer I thought about it. I think at one point I'd been something else, but I'd been Cheeper for so long that it was really the only name I associated myself with.

"No," I said finally, shifting my gaze from him to the floor.

"Do you have a name?"

Why does he care so much?

"I don't know," I shrug and start picking at the floor, somewhat missing the familiar one, two, three, four, five, six, seven grooves again. My body was still uncomfortably sticky, and my fingers left little semi-transparent smears as I traced shapes in the floor. The more I move my hands, the more I notice them shaking.

Hongo's hand starts reaching toward me again, and I find myself shuffling away before my back hits the wall behind me, and that burning pain shoots through me again. I let out a choked sob at the sensation, and he snatches his hand back, looking a bit sheepish.

"Is it okay if I touch you? Sorry I didn't ask before, I'm used to- well, different kinds of patients."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, and I didn't ask. I just force myself to nod, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the pain from earlier.

Hongo's POV

"It would be better if you opened your eyes for this, might help you keep calm if you can see what I'm doin'," I say, reaching for a pair of thin gloves from on top of the table to my right.

She warily opens her eyes again, but doesn't relax an ounce, even at the sight of the gloves. She almost reminds me of a deer, with the way her spindly limbs tremble and how she looks at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"How about you just watch what I'm doing, you can tell me to stop anytime," I say as gently as I can, showing her my hands.

Her pale lips twitch, and her eyes are watery at she looks away, clearly fighting with herself. I wait, moving my hands to now fold them in my lap.

"I-" she finally says, her voice barely audible. "I don't want it to hurt again."

I shift closer to where she's cowered in the corner as subtly as I can, holding my arm out.

"Look," I say softly, "Touch my arm."

She doesn't move, so I continue:

"I think you have some injury on your back that's causing that pain. I won't touch you there if you don't want, but I need to see what other injuries you have if you don't wanna get more sick."

She looks at me again, tears spilling down her face as she says, "Okay."

I grab her wrist as gingerly as I can, and she visibly flinches as I press her fingertips to my arm.

"See?" I say, giving her what I hope is a comforting smile. She doesn't shy away as I release her wrist, so I take that as permission to continue.

She watches me with wide eyes as I check over her exposed skin. She's ghastly pale, and extremely dehydrated - to be expected from someone who was just fished out of the ocean and promptly puked everywhere. Her skin is raw and bruising around her neck, but nothing too serious as far as I can tell.

Lean back away from her, I start chewing on the inside of my cheek as I figure out what to say next. I don't want to push her, especially considering I'm a man she doesn't know, but I'm worried about the pain in her back.

I let out a sigh, and say "Listen, I know you're scared, and you don't want me to touch your back, but I need to see what's wrong so I can help."

"Do you promise you're going to help?" Her voice is barely a whisper, but I can't help but be thrilled that she's cooperated thus far. I stand, holding my hand out to her. She stares at it for a moment before putting both of her hands in mine, gripping both sides of my palm as I help lift her to her feet. She doesn't let go, and her legs tremble beneath her as her grip on my hand tightens.

Can she even stand on her own?

I start chewing the inside of my cheek again as I take just how truly tiny she really is. I can't even tell how old she is, she's all bones and pale skin, and my stomach clenches as I take in how malnourished she seems to be. I let her lean on me as I lead her to the bed on the other side of the room. As I gently guide her to sit down, her arm shoots down to stabilize herself on the stiff mattress. I almost turn back around to grab the puke bucket again as I watch her head hang and her breath quicken, but she looks up at me again after a minute, waiting for me to start.

"I promise that I'm here to help, but I can't promise this is going to be painless."

Her throat bobs, and for a moment I'm afraid she'll refuse my help, but she nods her head. I let out a sigh of relief, and start checking her vitals, saving the inspection of her back for last. I start mumbling what I'm doing once I touch her, hoping to offer some form of comfort.

Finally, I let out a puff of air and stand to full height, my knees cracking a bit as I did so.

"Alright, girlie, I need to lift your shirt up to see what's going on there, okay? I'm just gonna push it up over your shoulders, and it'll stay covering your front."

She just nodded once, and hunched over a bit more. The corner of my mouth twitches at her attempt to help. I had no idea where the poor girl came from, or how she'd ended up with some mermaid, especially so far from Fishman Island. Hell, even she didn't know. As I sat down next to her and gingerly started lifting the hem of her ratty shirt, I tried wracking my brain to figure out how a person couldn't even remember their own damn name.

A sour smell hit me as I slowly pushed her shirt up to her shoulders, and I could see raw, festering skin underneath. Bile rose into my throat, and my breathing grew unsteady as I saw the full state of her back. There, settling an infection deep into this girl's back, was the brand of the Celestial Dragons.

And it all made sense. The raw skin and bruising around her throat, the lack of any nourishment, right down to her lack of spirit-

My hand started shaking as my gaze traveled down to the exposed skin of her hips, littered in bruises. My breathing grew labored, and I had to clench my fist to keep myself from pulling her into my chest and telling her it would be alright, she was safe, and that she was far away from whatever sick bastards had done this to her.

But I couldn't scare her. I'm not even sure she was aware of anything that had really happened to her, and I sure as hell didn't know how to tell her.

I knelt in front of her so that I was at her eye level, and steadied my breathing.

"Well, girlie, you've got a nasty burn that looks infected. It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but I've gotta clean it and treat it or it'll get a lot worse."

To be honest, I wasn't sure how that infection hadn't killed her already. If she couldn't even remember where she came from, and she didn't even know what was on her own body, I can't even imagine how long she'd been under their control.

"Girlie," I started softly, "Do you know where you got all this?"

She looks at me, and shifts on the bed to run a trembling hand through her hair. It looks like a deep maroon or magenta, and seems to have been buzzed fairly recently.

"I don't know. I-"

She was cut off with a sharp knock on the door. I wanted to groan, knowing exactly who it was interrupting me. The door swings open, and there he stands - my captain, Red-Hair Shanks.

[littlemourningstarr]

Smutty one liner number 5 with Sekh and Astarion though 👀👀👀💕

Oh my gods "I think you lost your underwear somewhere." 👀👀👀

Astarion traced the rim of his wine glass, eyes taking in the evening crowd of the Elfsong. He was watching a woman walk by when Sekh slid into the chair next to him, his wine cup now refilled.

"Someone catch your eye?" He teased, elbowing Astarion gently. The vampire flashed a smile and pulled the drow into his side, his arm curled tightly around his waist.

"Now that you're here- possibly." Sekh rolled his eyes, lifting his wine glass and taking a healthy sip. Astarion had barely touched his own wine- he had to admit he was rather amused to see his darling further into his cups than he was.

Sekh nodded towards a couple near the bar, quite obviously heavy into their flirtations. "They're pretty."

Astarion hummed. They were- he could admit. A half elf woman, with curves thay would give in the softest way beneath hands- and a large tiefling man, with horns you could grab onto.

"Him or her?" Sekh asked, and Astarion pursed his lips, thinking for only a moment.

"Her." He sipped his wine. It was her curves that intrigued him, he had to admit- he wanted to grasp at her waist, feel the soft skin give under his hold.

Sekh took another sip of his wine. "She is beautiful. Soft- you're type." He leaned more into Astarion. "I'd very much like to grab his horns tho." He turned into Astarion's ear, whispered, "Do you think she's whimper softly and blush for you? Or scream?"

Astarion sucked at his tongue, shifting slightly. He had to admit he liked this game- they played it frequently, when it was just the two of them, sipping wine at the Elfsong on a slow night. Discussing who might catch their eye, what they think they'd be like in bed-

Fun little fantasies that left Astarion feeling safe.

"Whimper," he ended on, "though not as nicely as you, pet." Astarion turned, stole a kiss from Sekh's wine-tasting lips. He meant for it to be quick, a playful touch only- but Sekh chased after him, deepened it until Astarion felt as if he was melting into his warm mouth.

Astarion reached over with his free hand, grasped Sekh firmly, high up on his thigh, squeezing the muscle. As he did Sekh nipped at his lip, pinched the flesh between his teeth and had Astarion shivering.

"Darling," he whispered, "careful now."

"Or what?" Sekh grinned, his eyes dancing, and Astarion traced his hand up higher, twirling the lacing of his pants around one of his fingers.

"I'll make you whimper right here?"

Sekh bowed his head, nuzzled into Astarion's neck. "Promise?"

Astarion didn't need further pushing. He plucked at the lacing beneath the table, slipped his hand easily into Sekh's pants-

And found warm, bare skin waiting for him. "My love," Astarion managed, feeling his muscles going tight, a tingle snaking up his spine, "I think you lost your underwear somewhere."

Sekh dragged his mouth along Astarion's neck, teeth grazing where his pulse would pound, had he lived. "Or I never had them."

Astarion groaned, low in his throat. "You devil of a man." He slid his hand further down, fingers rubbing over Sekh's clit- which was quite hard already- over his lips, to push gently at his entrance.

He was wet already.

Sekh squirmed slightly, as Astarion dragged the wetness back up to his clit, rubbing over the hard bud in firm, circular motions. "Look at you, hard for me already."

Sekh bit at Astarion's neck then, teeth indenting his pale skin, making the vampire gasp- rather loudly. "Hush love," Sekh murmured, "or you'll have the whole tavern watching me come."

Astarion cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure how he had his hand down Sekh's pants and the drow still seemed in control of him, of the situation. It was impressive-

And it, along with the feel of Sekh's cunt under his fingers, the memory of his teeth on his neck- was making Astarion's cock ache.

The drow squirmed closer, little breaths panted into Astarion's neck, perfectly hidden from the room. Astarion shifted to rubbing the underside of Sekh's clit, got a pleased moan his lover could barely stifle.

Astarion swore one of the patrons glanced over at them.

He didn't much care. He'd seen plenty of sordid acts happen once dark hit in any number of taverns. This was tame in comparison to most.

"Are you close already?" Astarion teased, got nothing but the flick of Sekh's tongue against his skin. "You planned this didn't you, you whorish, darling boy."

Sekh lifted his head slightly, breathed, "guilty," into Astarion's ear, before nipping at his earlobe. Astarion bit his own lip, felt his cock twitch. Gods damn, the drow knew his ears were sensitive.

He moved his fingers faster, could feel Sekh's hips rolling slightly, trying to meet his touches- and then the drow was bowing his head, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, a shuddering breath leaving him as Astarion felt his cunt twitching-

He wasn't sure the drow had ever been so quite during orgasm. It was both heart wrenching-- as those blissed out noises could drive Astarion to madness- and yet incredibly arousing.

Astarion slowed as Sekh relaxed, pulling his hand free. As Sekh lifted his head, lids heavy, ginger lashes gorgeous, Astarion popped his fingers into his mouth, tasting the ghost of Sekh's orgasm.

He wanted a real taste.

He stood up then, grasping Sekh by the wrist, hauling him from their table, wine completely forgotten. Sekh stumbled a step, grinning, cheeks slightly flushed now. They had barely gotten out the door when Sekh said, "Astarion, let me at least tie my pants."

"Don't bother," the vampire managed, turning them around the corner. "If I'm not buried inside you in the next minute I'll simply go mad."

Astarion knew the drow shivered- and suddenly Sekh was keeping up with him much easier.

[ingravinoveritas]

MY GOODNESS THAT TV INSIDER SNIPPET WHERE YOU CAN SEE THEM MOVE PHYSICALLY CLOSER TO EACH OTHER IN ABOUT 20 SECONDS. UGHHH. DAVID WAS LITERALLY HALF OFF HIS SEAT TO BE CLOSER TO MICHAEL

Hi, Anons! Oh, gosh, I love both of these so much. Putting them together because I think there's a definite connection worth discussing.

So first, Anon #2 I know you must be referring to the new interviews with Michael and David that have come out the past few days (on Screen Rant Plus, Movieweb, etc.). Anon #1 is referring to another clip that just came out today, so I'll put the video up here for anyone who hasn't seen it and then discuss it further down this post:

Anon #2, how beautifully you have phrased your observation, and I could not possibly agree with you more. I've noticed a lot of people saying that Michael and David look sad or miserable, but I don't think that is the case at all. Well, a couple of things: 1) We have no idea when these interviews were recorded, though if I had to guess I'd say within the last month or two, and if that is the case, Michael was still directing/working nonstop on The Way, so that would explain him looking tired (along with running around after two little kids all the time). 2) I'm fairly certain that a large part of them not looking at each other is because they are trying not to give anything away about the second season, and Michael and David both know they won't be able to keep quiet if they make even the tiniest bit of eye contact.

3) I fully agree with your assertion that the lack of staring shows how close Michael and David have become, because to me, it also means that they no longer feel a need to be "on" around each other. They've both spoken in the past about how much they hate doing interviews/photo shoots, and that it became far more bearable when they had each other. That was the case four years ago, and now we've all gone through a global pandemic and some of the darkest times in our lives. That naturally strips away any sense of pretense--seeing someone at their worst, or when they're sick or afraid. I get the feeling that Michael and David have been through all of that and where so many other relationships/marriages fell apart, their relationship is even stronger now as a result. They love and accept each other exactly as they are, and it shows.

Finally, 4) What you said about Michael not staring at David makes my heart ache and seems so true. On the season 1 press tour, he was already in love, but didn't know when they would see each other again. I'm reminded of that one interview where they both suddenly seem to realize the press tour is coming to an end, and they don't know when they'll see each other next:

"Can we just...see each other? For no reason?"

He doesn't even have to ask that question now. Michael doesn't have to keep his eyes on David every moment because he has already memorized his whole face, the stubble on his skin, the softness of his lips. And he knows with perfect certainty that he will never be without David in his life again.

And this all fits in beautifully with the video you've mentioned, Anon #1, because they absolutely do move closer to each other in that video, and not only does it look like they did it completely unconsciously, but David seems to actually mirror Michael:

Michael is the first one to move closer, as we see above, and then right after he does, David moves closer. And again, they're not staring at each other the whole time. nor do they seem to be playing up their "personas"--Michael and David are just being themselves, and their natural inclination is to be close to each other. (Also, Michael's fucking wiggle right after he moves is killing me, because I think he only does that when he's very, very happy...)

Absolutely beautiful. I so appreciate you both sharing your thoughts with me, Anons. Thanks for writing in! xx

[itsclydebitches]

I’m screaming Clyde, what WAS that epilogue?! Also since semblances were just a discussion did you notice the moment when the guy tripped and Qrow caught him THEN we see the pin? Which is probably calling back to the mine incident where he tripped and Clover caught him? But now he’s kinda in the unique position of causing both. Looks like Qrow did indeed get a semblance upgrade without explanation. Maybe that’s why he’s so dang happy lol

Oh man you're right! That callback didn't occur to me, but it seems too big a coincidence to not be a callback. Yeah, I'm wondering now if we're meant to take this as further evidence that Qrow's semblance has evolved into a kind of...equalizer? The man near him still trips (bad luck) but now Qrow, in a mirror of Clover and his own good luck semblance, is able to catch him with a smile. I mean yeah, we could simply chalk that up to Huntsmen reflexes, but it seems a little too on-the-nose to not be meaningful, particularly after the miraculous save on the airship. That begs the question though of what this actually means for Qrow moving forward. I mean, if he has good luck and bad luck now, don't they just cancel each other out? That's just normal luck. Congrats, your semblance makes you like everyone else where some good things and some bad things happen in your vicinity.

Ngl, after RWBY semi-canonically introduced the concept of some semblances severely impacting mental heath via Ironwood, my mind immediately jumped to the possibility of Qrow's upgrade coloring his reaction to everything. Not that I think this is actually happening in the story (and not that I'd want RT to attempt such a story-line), but from a fun AU possibility my brain went, "Qrow is acting all content and optimistic after everything in his life has gone to shit. Salem won back in Atlas, she's two steps closer to destroying the world, a whole Kingdom is dead/displaced, his nieces are presumably dead and at some point he's going to have to tell Tai that... and yet he's smiling. Not even in a 'I'm holding it together through extreme denial' way, but acknowledging that yes, he's actually, surprisingly happy. That doesn't make sense! I wonder if this spontaneous upgrade that presumably revolves around generically Good Things is fucking with his head somehow." In more nuanced and respectful hands, it might be interesting to explore what it means for a magic-based power to influence someone's mood. Can it be equated to medication? Is it seen as an "unnatural" version of who they are (something that, again like meds, could be a bias the show works to unpack)? As events unfold, is it revealed that his semblance simply gives him a stronger, more optimistic will for shouldering such tragedy, or does it become clear that he's not reacting appropriately to what everyone recognizes as—formerly for him—crippling emotional blows? There's a difference between, "My semblance keeps me from sinking back into my self-destructive depression. No, I'm not like who I was before and that's a good thing" vs. "Ruby? Yang? Uh... sure. I guess I miss them? I recognize that I'm supposed to miss them... but I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be? They did a good thing, those girls, trying to save the world and all, but now it's time to move on. Chins up, everyone! :)"

In my attempts to work through Qrow's everything from the epilogue, I'm also dying to know how long has passed. This is one of those times when a firmer timeline makes a huge difference because it can make or break our acceptance of these characterizations. How long did it take for them to accept that Team RWBY aren't coming back? How long passed after that when Qrow goes to wipe dust off the grave? If it's, say, a few days or weeks then I'm like hey wtf they should still be DEVASTATED. If, however, we've jumped forward six months, a year... that at least makes a little more sense. I don't like that we've skipped over all the cliffhanger conflicts of Volume 8 as well as a long-term grieving arc for every character that would fundamentally change who they are and their approach to this war... but I find that slightly easier to swallow then Qrow strutting around the new slums with a smile on his face, happily telling the ghosts of his dead family that he's doing surprisingly good during the end of the world.

Also, in the realm of skipped-over character growth, I saw someone point out that Oscar's tiny smile at the group's arrival... might not be Oscar's. Or might not be Ozpin's. God knows the writers have proven that they don't know how to write the merge on screen—they just keep insisting it's happening without either of them changing in any meaningful way—so this would be the perfect opportunity for them to just skip over all the important bits and land on the final product, a la Oscar getting over his crisis in Volume 6. If we hypothesize based on what RWBY has shown us before (ha) we should expect for Ozpin to be gone for good and Oscar is now in control, but with mannerisms and knowledge that he's never displayed before; a fundamental shift in his personality. After all, we never got to hear Ozpin the host. The show acts like Ozma existed on his own after a certain point, a body without a voice in his head anymore, but living as a, you know, merged version of himself and whoever was last with him. Which I hate! And Oscar hated it too, as evidence by him understandably freaking out about it, but the story never bothered to let him work through that. (Or just solve it with the magical aura machine + android bodies that have already been introduced.) As a favorite of mine, I'm not looking forward to being told that they've merged now. It's not Oscar. It's not Ozpin. It's someone who sounds like both at times, but really the characters you enjoyed are gone... without fully being gone. Combined with worry that Ironwood might come back—someone commented that the "Don't come back" was directed at Weiss, though that doesn't make any sense to me?—if we do get Volume 10 I can't help but think that, like Penny, the writers aren't going to leave these characters alone, despite them supposedly having left the story.

[elwenyere]

Hello! The conversation about careening had me wondering--how do you like to do research for your stories? Are there any topics or sources you particularly enjoy delving into or including in your work?

Hello, my friend!!! What a wonderful ask: thank you for these great questions.

After reflecting, I think I could describe my process as having two general categories: as-needed research and broader worldbuilding research.

The first category is a part of almost every fic I write, and it involves things like sourcing locations, verifying timelines, tracking down character names, and (very often) looking up what it feels like to receive various injuries. If it's a Star Wars fic, at least one Wookiepedia visit is a given (the raw materials page is a frequent hit). And there are likely to be a few other general internet searches I repeat several times ("aviation terms," for example, or "New Orleans plant life," depending on the fic and fandom).

The second category covers the exploratory reading and viewing I do for fics that involve more worldbuilding because they extend further outside (or completely outside) canon. The Codywan Pirate AU has me doing all kinds of targeted searches for naval ranks and sailing ship terminology, for example, but I've also been browsing maritime museums for descriptions of what life on ships was like from day to day (look at this cool page about sailor libraries and sailing literature!) and for images that give me a visual sense of the environment. I also love looking at digitized resources through academic libraries. When @festiveferret and I were collaborating on Citation Needed, an MCU professor AU in which history prof Tony is writing a monograph about weapons development during WWII, I used the online special collections at University of Massachusetts - Amherst to learn what the primary documents (enlistment records, ration cards, etc.) featured in the fic would look like. (Ferret then did incredible edits for the epistolary portion of the fic: this post has the collected documents.)

In a couple cases it's actually been the research that has come first and inspired the fic. The initial ideas for Separation, for example, which is a Top Gun fic that leans into the context of the AIDS crisis in the 80s and 90s, came from prep that I'd been doing for a queer literature class, so I was listening to music by queer bands in the period, reading poetry and essays about queer life in NYC and San Francisco (including this piece that discusses Nan Goldin, Thom Gunn's The Man with Night Sweats, "The Fall of 1992" by Randall Mann, and Alexander Chee's essay "After Peter"), and watching the documentary How to Survive a Plague, about the ACT UP movement. Much of that research informed the choices I made in writing the fic, even if it doesn't all appear directly.

Finally, I should confess that I am pretty self-indulgent with my fic research: I spend a lot of time studying and tracking things down when it's a subject I find interesting and/or when having more information will allow me to texture the choices I'm making in ways I personally find compelling; but I am also very unfussed about leaving other things vague or about fudging some details in service of the story. It's not at all out of the ordinary for me to spend 30 minutes looking up the names of camera models that hit shelves in 1991 and then write a sentence that says "when he gets off the carrier in mid-July, he goes to the mall" without specifying which carrier or which mall, because I couldn't be bothered to figure out the military logistics involved. This is one of the joys of writing fic for me: freedom to pour energy into those areas where research helps get me closer to things I want to discover and describe.

Thank you again for the terrific asks, my friend!!! This was very fun to write. <3<3<3

[askganon]

Sir, you do not know me, nor I you really, but despite the fact that we clearly have major philosophical differences, I still find you highly respectable. I haven't spoken to you as of yet due to this, as I have doubted that I could find a topic that would lead somewhere of benefit that others have not already asked at length about. All this is quite a long winded way to state that, now that I've actually thought of a topic to broach, I am genuinely curious as to your thoughts and do not speak on a whim and hope you may give my ramble some thought as well.

On the topic of alcohol (and any other drug/intoxicant that you may partake in for that matter), I am curious, what exactly do you find pleasurable about any of it and why do you believe you find it pleasurable? I have always found the feeling of drunkenness to be mildly annoying at best and highly distressing at worst. The same traits that others describe as positive have always been hellish to me. For the physical sensations others have described have always sounded identical to my experiences of things such as "being in extreme pain" and "recovering from surgery", which even being slightly tipsy tends to resemble for me. As for the social aspects, many say they find it easier to socialize and that it makes one more open to things, but if you are intending to meet others, wouldn't it be better to know their personality for how it is outside of intoxication? And if one is simply looking to have a good experience, wouldn't it be better to seek one that can be more easily remembered? And being around drunken folk while sober has never been pleasant either, as I find it to be closer to babysitting than anything. To each their own as they say, but I simply find this baffling, so I'd like to hear your thoughts. Perhaps this is simply something that is not meant to be fully known or understood, but to leave questions unanswered is against my nature. After all, a sickly child who grows into a sickly adult is often left only with the company of books, and that has long since given me a hunger to know everything I can. One of my flaws I suppose

And as this is much longer than I intended, I shall try to leave that thought here, I think. For it is late and I am stressed, as tonight is the anniversary of my birthday so tomorrow I will be expected to take part in celebrations that, as my culture dictates, will most certainly involve drinking. I expect the social pressures to be nearly as miserable as the act itself would be. For listening to my late night rambling, which I hope does not bore you, sarqso

Your patience alone to seek out a topic as of yet discussed already elevates you above the common rabble in my eyes, disagreements or no. For this, I will indeed take my own time in answering your original thoughts and inquiries to the extent of my ability.

First, allow me to dissuade any possible worries you may hold regarding my character when it comes to alcohol. I do not ingest it for the sole purpose of wild intoxication.

Many who imbibe do so for this reason, but I am not among them. When I drink, and understand that it is not a daily occurrence, I do so to feel an ease from my burdens.

There are seven stages of intoxication, ranging from sobriety to death. When I drink, I take care to keep myself within the first two stages; sobriety and euphoria. I need no further intoxication than them, and will keep myself within those controllable levels.

In extreme cases, and very rare moments, I have found myself delving into the third stage; excitement. However, I do not enter this stage lightly, and it is almost always with a host of Sisters that I have allowed myself such indulgence.

I am also aware that alcohol effects everyone differently. What has been a pleasant experience for me might be incredibly uncomfortable for you. There is no shame in this, as I have been in the company of many Gerudo who have preferred sobriety to intoxication. Likewise, I have known some Gerudo... and Hylian Kings, who preferred a lifetime of intoxication to a moment of sobriety.

It can be a tool of momentary release if it is controlled, or an unbreakable chain of misery and dependency if it is not. As with everything, it is fine in moderation.

When it comes to alcohol: learn your limits, and respect them.

[kiefbowl]

In response to your post about recently peaking: I think I'm still very much in the progress of getting into radical feminism, but one of the things that made me start to search it out was the huge discrepancy I noticed online with regard to how for example J.K. Rowling is treated by TRAs compared to any man ever who also has a "bad" opinion. That made me want to look up what so-called TERFs actually have to say, and I had to admit to myself that a lot of it made sense. A lot of things I felt uncomfortable about regarding gender politics and sexwork for example started falling into place as I read through more radfem blogs on tumblr. I want to use my free time this summer to read some proper feminist literature (very open for recommendations!)

I must say I feel hesitant sometimes to go further and actually peak though, because ever since I went on this journey a few months ago I've started to notice the misogyny in many places where I could ignore it before, and it scares me sometimes. I'm worried that if I become to aware the anger I feel about how women are treated will keep growing and I won't know what to do with it.

Sorry for rambling in your askbox! It felt kinda nice to write it all out once, I don't feel comfortable yet discussing all these thoughts with the people in my life unfortunately

Anger can be a very productive emotion if you're willing. I've been watching a youtuber who does recaps of SisterWives, and she said something in one of her videos recently that I agree with but never heard it articulated this way. I'm paraphrasing but: Emotions are like our five senses, they're there to give us information. Then, you have to process that information and decide how to act on it.

The example she gave is if you see someone far away that looks like your friend, but you're not sure - your eyes gave you information, but you have to go look closer to investigate to see if it's really them. If you feel angry, you have to investigate and take some time exploring why, and to what extent, and what you're willing to do about it.

Maybe you've never had anyone say this to you plainly but: I don't see my ideologies as an identity. I don't see my social identities as extensions of my virtue. I'm not afraid to get angry because if I'm angry it's probably something worth getting angry about. As with sadness, or happiness.

Misogyny is scary, but life has many facets, and truth is a worthwhile pursuit. I can't imagine my life another way because I can only be living this life as me, and like every life, it's full of complexities. I'm subjugated, I'm privileged, I'm a good person who has made bad choices, I'm a smart person who can be obtuse, I've been poor but never the poorest, I come from grandfathers who fought in wars and grandmothers who raised children in a bad religion yet they are all so deeply in my heart, and I've had to weigh my values against self serving decisions time and time again to get some of the comforts I have now. I have to live in the world now, and I'd rather live with open eyes despite any pain, because otherwise I miss out on joy. This is my only chance of joy, so I'm taking it. I will never turn my back on knowledge lest I leave joy on the table. Maybe one day, you'll see what I mean. Good luck sis! Thanks for sharing :)

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Shackled (Chapter 19)

Dark! Rafe Cameron x Pogue! Reader

Warning: There are some intense, dubiously consenting and nonconsensual sexual themes in this series, MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Summary: You hate Outer Banks with a passion and are working hard to get out despite all the obstacles in your way. Rafe himself eventually becomes one of those obstacles after a night of low impulse control. Will you be able to overcome him or with you have no choice but to submit.

Slow Burn

Series Masterlist

Tag list:

@sophiexoxo-lol @magnificantmermaid

Notes: Guess what you guys? This is the second to final chapter, we are almost done. And I'd like to thank everyone who's supported this series. I truly appreciate it, and I hope you stay for any future series to come along. I am truly grateful.

The side of your face is pushed into the mattress, and your back is arched unnaturally. Rafe at your rear, fucking you at a sinful pace as he holds your arms behind you. Keeping your movement restricted and at his mercy. 

The room is quiet save for your whimpers, his occasional grunts, with your skin slapping against each other.

Rafe was like a man depraved with how he took you the night before and continued to take you well into the morning. Only stopping to rest and recharge, and as soon as you closed your eyes, he would have you up and contorted into a new position to take him.

As you climax again, you tighten around him, and with a final push, Rafe lets out a heavy grunt before spilling his seed inside you. You finally collapse, unsure if you can take much more of this, blinking as you spot the sun peeking through his curtains. 

You sigh and collapse into the bed as he lets you go, pulling you into his chest as his fingers drag along your back. 

Exhaustion overtakes you as your eyes close, and you fall into a deep slumber. 

It's noon when you wake up, and Rafe is fully dressed, at his desk, with his phone in his hand. You carefully move to sit up, your muscles screaming as the soreness overtakes your senses. 

You hear his footsteps before you feel his arms wrap around you. Before you know it, he's trapped you into a make-out session, and as you think it escalates, you pull away.

"I need a break," you push a hand against his chest, hoping he'll take the hint and leave you alone. 

He stares for a moment before saying ok. 

But he doesn't move away, moving further into the bed and pulling you into his lap. 

"I think this is the perfect opportunity to discuss my terms," he says.

You give him a questioning look. 

"Remember when you were at the hospital, and I promised to foot your bill and take care of you if you returned the favor?"

"Oh," you slightly lift your head as the memory rushes back. 

"What I did for you was a pretty big fucking deal, so the return needs to match up… you understand that, right?" he looks at you, waiting for you to agree. 

"What do you want, Rafe?" you press. 

"Kids,"

You quickly perk up, ignoring the resistance in your muscles.

"Five, actually. I want a big family," he pulls you closer. "With you playing the dutiful housewife and mommy,"

You try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. "We have to get married first, of course, so when I get down on one knee and ask, the only thing that should come out of your mouth is yes."

"I don't want kids, Rafe," you say.

"Well, I do, and as far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters," he smirks, triumph lacing his words. 

Your stomach drops, and anxiety and panic shoot through your nerves. Rafe notices and decides to offer some consolation. 

"You can still travel and live your life to the fullest. We can do it together, and when we have the kids, we'll hire a nanny or something," he pulls your head toward his direction, "This could be a nice little arrangement for you too. You just have to cooperate," 

"I don't want kids. I don't want to bring children into this fucked up situation, and I don't want to get married, especially not to you." you try to pull away, but his hold tightens. Anger adorns his face.

"That's too bad because you can either be ok with this, or I can lock you in a fucking basement. The choice is yours; either way, I still get what I want." 

"Listen to me, Rafe,"

"You already agreed at the hospital,"

"I didn't realize this was what I was agreeing to,"

"Maybe, you should have asked a few questions before saying yes,"

"Rafe, listen!"

"No! We can do this the easy way or the hard way, I'm fine with both, but I'm not sure you'll be." he threatens. He stills for a moment watching your reaction before pulling you off of him and walking towards the door. "Get ready, breakfast is waiting, and Ward has a surprise for us."

He opens the door, and before he leaves, he turns back, "And please be on your best behavior."

You felt so helpless. You wanted to cry, but you knew it would be pointless. How long could you keep fighting before you get tired? Before Rafe started getting violent?

A tear escapes before you can think about it, and frustration slowly consumes you. 

You let out an anxious sigh before moving to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

What could you do?

***

Ward bought you a house. 

Correction, Ward bought Rafe a mansion. You knew better no matter how much Rafe insisted it was for you.

He also promoted Rafe to be district manager of Cameron Development, North Carolina division, as he worked on branching out to other areas.

Whatever that meant, you knew it couldn't be good for you. 

Now here you were, in a barely furnished home, thinking about what to order for dinner. It felt so dreadfully domestic. There was no way out, and you still needed to decide if you would give Rafe what he wanted. You'd have little choice in his eyes. But did you really have any fight left in you? 

Then it hit you. 

You didn't want to fight anymore. You wanted to relax on a beach with a long island in hand. Touring popular spots while eating exciting foods. You wanted to have hobbies and dance for fun, not for tips. 

Would falling into Rafe's whims be all that bad? It couldn't be much worse considering your position without him. 

It wouldn't be so bad to play along. He would get bored, and you may find yourself in a place where you can leave him. Hopefully, before the thought of any kids comes along.

For the first time in months, you felt hopeful. You decided that you didn't need to suffer. You could still get what you wanted. You just needed to do it from a different perspective. You needed to be as conniving and manipulative as Rafe. And although you were still determining if that were possible, you could still put in the effort. 

And with this newfound vigor, you decided to cook instead. 

When you guys moved to the mansion, Rafe gave you a new phone with a few pre-downloaded apps. A few food delivery apps, but there was one grocery delivery. He had an account linked already, so you just needed to order. 

Going all out, you make a full-course meal with red wine and a chocolate dessert. 

The shock on Rafe's face when he noted the dinner plates meticulously placed on a blanket on the floor. 

You didn't have a dining table yet, so you had to do a picnic style. 

You pulled him by the arm and had him put his suitcase down before seating him on the blanket. Pouring him a glass of wine before taking a seat yourself. 

You talked about many things while you both sat and ate and as your meal ended, Rafe decided he could not hold his question anymore. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

You had a few plates in your hands when he asked, "I'm cleaning up," you say.

"No, I meant, why did you do all of this," he gestures to the finished mess before him. 

You move to put the plates down on the island. "I thought long and hard about your demands and have decided to comply." you shrug.

"Why?" he asks. 

You move and stand in front of him before kneeling to his level, "Because I realized you're all I have left," you give him a quick peck on the lips, and as you peel back, he has a smirk on his face, as if he's earned a victory.

You move to kiss him, this time choosing not to pull away. Pushing him on his back and straddling his hips. 

Grinding against his hardening cock, he squeezes your waist in his hands. 

You pull back, 

"Hurry up and fuck me,"

[justanothersyscourse]

My final comments on CDDs

Anything after this will be deleted or ignored for my own MH

People fully admit they're not taking anything anyone says in good faith and refusing to allow anyone the chance to elaborate, and I'm not down for that

So

Complex: I've stated repeatedly that calling one thing complex is not saying another thing isn't. This isn't a complexity competition. I'm not comparing the complexity of anything, but instead discussing what falls under the HEADER of CDD and why. Whether it's under the HEADER or not means nothing (see quote below).

Parts/alters: fully autonomous with their own continuous sense of self (ANP or ANP-like, based on Nijenhuis' updated ToSD definitions)

Distinction between OSDD 1a and b as CDDs: I said that OSDD 1 falls into secondary SD (it does, generally, see below), though 1a falls firmly in the middle and 1b falls closer, or into, tertiary. This isn't just my own words, but coming from the authors of the ToSD.

Neither is more complex than the other. In fact, it's suggested that the opposite is true.

-(there's another quote I want to include here, just need to find it)-

In principle, the number of parts of the personality in a given individual has little bearing on whether dissociation is at the secondary or tertiary level. A patient with secondary structural dissociation may have many EPs, while a patient with tertiary structural dissociation may only have two ANPs and two EPs.

The Haunted Self

The theory predicts that overcoming tertiary dissociation in DID is less demanding than overcoming secondary dissociation.

Trauma-Related Structural Dissociation of the Personality, van der Hart, Nijenhuis, Steele

CDD as a term simply encompasses multiple ANPs and multiple EPs. That's it.

In my initial post about OSDD 2, I specifically chose the word "parts" instead of alters because I didn't want to leave out OSDD 1a. I should have used a different word or elaborated more on what definition I was using, and how OSDD 2 did not share that feature.

OSDD 2: is about identity confusion, not alteration. That's coming from the DSM. I said, if you experienced those things and have "parts" or a system or alters, OSDD 1 or DID would override the OSDD 2 diagnosis.

I'm not sure why that's controversial. This doesn't say anything about the complexity of the disorder or the causes behind it. It just doesn't have alters or distinct parts. Why is everyone so angry?

OSDD 1a doesn't have alters: see this post with backup info. This does not mean that I believe OSDD 1a isn't systemhood or that they don't belong in this community. Again, just just a fact about the presentation of the disorder.

BPD and OSDD 1a: I provided sources where I was getting my comparison from. The difference here seems to be levels of amnesia and the... Strength? Of EPs. Does that make sense? In fact, I'd argue trauma-based, dissociative BPD belongs in our communities too for support.

According to the Haunted Self:

However, patients with BPD have lower scores for dissociative amnesia on the DIS-Q than patients with DID and lesser degrees of identity confusion and alteration. These differences distinguish BPD from DID... Some patients with BPD have severe dissociative symptoms, and may actually border on DDNOS or DID. Our clinical observations suggest that dissociative parts in BPD patients have less emancipation and elaboration, and a less distinct sense of self than in DDNOS or DID.

I think that's everything, but if you send an ask with a point you'd like further clarification on, I'll likely add it here, but I won't be directly engaging any further.

Additional edit:

I'm not sure if it's because I live in America's hat, or just my own education, but DDNOS was always described as "not yet" and "not quite". People were diagnosed with DDNOS when they either failed to switch during diagnostic interviewing, or they showed no signs of amnesia, and the vast majority would go on to eventually display both and later be diagnosed as DID.

For example, during initial interviews, we would go into "states" where we believed we were still in active danger. We would cry and panic and completely shut down. If this was an alter, it was little more than a fragment that would manage to completely overpower the rest of us with the sheer... Size of its fear. Recognizing where our life was currently was just... Beyond our grasp in this state, and even if it could be convinced we were safe and calmed to hold a conversation, any progress was undone by the next time it appeared.

I came out of these sessions with only minimal awareness/memory. I knew I'd made a fool of myself, but not much else, though the way I tried to play it off as nothing major implied I had more awareness than I did.

This was the EP, I was told.

Its function was extremely limited and it was driven by emotional distress. Talking to it in any coherent fashion wasn't possible. It couldn't recognize our life as it was currently and was terrified that our abuser was standing outside the office door, waiting for us to finish. All that could be done was to reassure it until the episode passed. It believed it was me, but thought that I was someone else. That sounds confusing, but it was very much a part of me/us, and related to this body, this life, and the trauma we experienced, but somehow thought that we were a little boy, at the same time.

I am not a little boy, and I was little girl at the time that abuse occurred.

Again, confusing, nothing ever makes sense, it's wonderful.

Amnesia wasn't clear enough at this point, not for switching and not for past abuse.

I have never managed to fully switch in therapy, though at home my system is extremely comfortable with my partner. Several years later, long after I had chickened out of further testing, I was in therapy again and my doctor was aware of my previous history with OSDD. I still couldn't let us switch in front of her, but my husband was brought in to talk about some of my other alters.

Some appeared, by description, to be fully fledged ANPs. Aware of our life as it was, vaguely aware of our history, but relatively unbothered and disconnected from the... Fallout of that history. They had likes and dislikes and could hold conversations about current, relative topics, and held their own opinions and ideas about those topics.

For example, all except for one of my ANPs thinks COVID was bad. One of us thinks the world needed a culling to bring to population down before we completely kill the planet. That's fucked up, but he's got opinions and he's damn well going to share them, whether any of us like it or not.

This alter was a mix of an ANP and EP. He was still largely driven by paranoia and anger, and he occasionally found himself confused about days and times or where he was (sometimes even what species he was). He was mostly capable of holding conversations about current topics, though very selfish in that it would always turn back to him and his problems.

The EPs have no idea what COVID is (though if I split one because of COVID, that would be a different story), and have no interest in hearing about it.

I have never once said that OSDD 1a are not systems. They very much are. They still switch and have just as many (if not more) problems as I do. They still have parts.

However, in the context of CDDs, they don't fall into tertiary SD. That all I said.

EPs are not "alters" as they're known in DID because they have little to no awareness of positive life changes and instead remain stuck in trauma. I've lost hope of my little EP ever taking on ANP traits, and instead now focus on internal care for him.

Because he fucking deserves it.

I needed to stop hoping and expecting, because it was putting more strain and stress on him, and I needed to accept the little emotional bundle that he was. He likes mug cakes and watching Marble Olympics after he's been calmed. It helps him relax so we can scoop him back up in a hug and put him to bed, because naps after crying are the best.

In my opinion, all this makes DDNOS/OSDD 1 a pretty useless diagnosis, and I think it should all be part of one single diagnosis. I think OSDD should be in tertiary, regardless of EP/ANP configuration because of the relative emancipation and awareness of EPs in 1a. They may not be as distinct and autonomous as ANPs or alters, but this is clearly part of the same disorder and it goes above and beyond that of the other disorders considered secondary SD.

There have been dozens of recommendations for how this should happen, all with their own problems and positives.

I don't really have any thoughts myself on how to do this.

But I never meant to downplay anyone's experiences. I only meant to discuss the literature on SDs.