#it doesn’t negate being kind

[entrop-y]

i know it was almost certainly unintentional, but watching season eleven, it really seems like reid just has devastatingly hopeless, unrequited feelings for morgan

the online discussion of ‘queer coding’ in criminal minds often leaves a lot to be desired (and often fundamentally misunderstands what queer coding is) so i am not even arguing that—especially by season eleven—reid is an explicitly/intentionally queer coded character, but the dynamic of their relationship (the specific dialogue, the body language, and how reid handles morgan’s departure) just accidentally, but so clearly, frame it that way

[swordmaid]

thinking abt jaime having to cuddle with a wounded brienne because it’s cold and she’s shivering and having nightmares …

[mechahero]

sending in anons was fine until you and cakotopia decided to be sensitive little bitches about it

//now hold on a second. since this seems to be about yesterday, im just going to say that what i said then. we’re not trying to be assholes when it comes to sending anons. we’re really not. sending anons or questions about each other’s muses and whatever they’ve got going on, like that’s fine. the problem is that it sort of felt like super specific stuff was getting brought up a lot and it also felt it was starting to get a little more negative and its becoming sort concerning to the both of us?

we’re not trying to be rude about but personally, I’d feel better if it kind of cooled down? that’s all? there’s really no need for you to be speaking to anyone like this and calling both achilles and me names isn’t really going to help you out here im sorry

[yvmoveon]

.

[jacketkos]

I genuinely think nobody understands gay coding at this point they just think it’s when a male character is gnc and virtually nothing else. “they might be bi you never know” seems to be only something directed at women and masc guys no matter how absurdly disingenuous it is (i.e. the character in question has shown to be actively repulsed or disinterested by the idea of being attracted to men/women respectively.)

[sapphia]

So for anyone who doesn’t keep up with nz politics, which i’m assuming is most of you, our new radical right government have decided one of their main aims of their term will be to re-interpret the Treaty of Waitangi.

The Treaty is an agreement between Maori and the Crown, now the NZ government. It is the founding document of new zealand and is recognised as a constitutional document today; it is the only treaty of its kind/time still honoured, and it is the steps we’ve taken through the Treaty to provide restitution and build an ongoing relationship with Maori and their iwi (tribes) that has allowed the relationship between Maori and the government to thrive where other indigenous groups have struggled to achieve recognition of their rights.

This is going to be entirely undone. Not only is this issue inflammatory and a threat to race relations in Aotearoa, leaked documents show the proposed “reinterpretation” wants to negate pretty much the entirety of the legal rights provided to Maori under the treaty. For example, the treaty article that guarantees land rights for Maori will be reinterpreted to guarantee land rights for “all New Zealanders”. Which means this article would be essentially meaningless for Maori.

By removing Maori from the context they are trying to put Maori on an “equal footing” with all New Zealanders; they are riding the idea that Maori have special rights and privileges above that of the average New Zealander. Obviously this is bullshit but it’s effective rhetoric and there’s a grain of truth to in that the extent of Maori rights hadn’t been clearly defined due to the ongoing nature of the process. So this has got a lot of people with a poor grasp of the issues very upset and baying for change.

There is a hui (meeting) being held today for all the iwi to begin discussions of how Maori will respond to this. New Zealand politics isn’t very interesting usually, but our progress on indigenous rights, until now, has been absolutely ahead of the field. If you care about indigenous rights globally, you should care about this, because in the same way Australia’s referendum loss has spurred on this action, the loss of rights here will spur other right wing governments to be similarly bold to their own indigenous groups.

Indigenous rights in New Zealand are under attack. They are meeting today to discuss it, and New Zealand will be listening, but I want the world to be listening. Because our government needs the shame of being called out by more than just the people who they’ve already decided don’t vote for them.

Maori have a long and proud history of fighting for their rights, and they’ll do it again here. And I’ll be on the pickets beside them, but there’ll be plenty of my own pickets to attend, because this government is radical in every sense of the word.

So please, even if you’re very far away, stand behind them in this. Keep your eyes on us. Amplify their voices. Don’t let the racism drown them out.

[vagueiish]

ugh, what do you mean ‘mindset follows action’ and not vice versa and that i’ll be waiting and languishing and stagnating forever if i continue to insist that i have to wait until that undefined something in my head finally clicks before committing to the things i want to do and being the person i want to be?

[fingertipsmp3]

You know what it is. She says the right things, but never does the right things

[thebibliosphere]

Listen, if you’re messaging me to tell me you hate how slow I am at making “content” (i.e. 120k novels) and you wish I was less sick so you can get more “content” you can just go ahead and unfollow me now.

You’re being neither kind nor supportive by telling me you hate my disabilities because they prevent you from having fun.

“so-and-so has X disability too and that doesn’t stop them—“

I’m so pleased for them, but disabilities are not a monolith. We don’t even experience the same conditions the same way. Please never ever use one disabled person’s experiences or capabilities to negate the life experiences of another.

Also, the “if you have time to write fanfic you have time to work” comment was super shitty.

I have been exceptionally open with my struggles with mental health over the last few years. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to find enjoyment in anything since 2020?

Do you know what it means to me to finally have something that’s fun and just for me again that I’m not beating myself up over because I “Should” be working?

Obviously not, or you wouldn’t send messages like that. You can just kick rocks, as far as I’m concerned.

To everyone else who sends me sweet messages telling me they love Hunger Pangs and can’t wait for more but also to work at my own pace: thank you. I don’t get to reply to as many of you as I’d like, but it means a lot to me to know you care about my health and mental wellbeing.

Have a Holly Mop watching over me. (Feat Mothman)

[incognitopolls]

For the record, I won’t take any submissions for polls speculating on the personal lives of any celebrities or public figures. It’s extremely invasive to openly speculate on strangers’ sexual orientation, gender identity, family, personal beliefs, et cetera. You and I aren’t entitled to know anything about them, and being in the public eye doesn’t negate their right to privacy. Celebrities, musicians, internet creators, etc have spoken up over and over about how much harm this kind of speculation and probing causes; this blog will not be party to that.

[eddiesghxst]

a very big thank you to my bby @mmunson86 bc she listens and entertains all of my random ass bursts of inspo and helped me decipher the plot to these two babies (and many many others hehe), ilysm stinky 🤍

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older!NASCAR driver!eddie munson x pop singer!reader

summary: Eddie's a famous former NASCAR driver who now does paint jobs for celebrities, and you just so happen to need a paint job

contains: oral (f receiving), banter, flirting, and eddie being head over heels for reader <3

word count: 2k

| nascar!eddie x pop singer!reader masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Thursday is Eddie’s favorite day.

One more day til the weekend, things are slow at the shop, and Bug, the detailer, usually pays for lunch. So, Eddie’s usually pretty fucking happy on Thursday— usually. However, it’s hard to be happy when you wake up to a music video of a famous pop singer crashing the car you’d just spent weeks working on.

Now, Eddie’s all for creativity and expressing art in different forms of destruction, but it’s hard to see the art in smashing a brand new McLaren, freshly painted and detailed by none other than Eddie Munson himself. Sure, you paid for it, so it’s basically a waste of your money, but it’s also a waste of Eddie’s time and work.

“Turn this song off, Bug,” Eddie grumbles from under his mask, focused on spraying fine lines of paint onto the car in front of him. It’s your song.  The song that you’d smashed Eddie’s car into smithereens for. That being said, even if Eddie is utterly and incredibly displeased with how you’d decided to treat Eddie’s hard work, his heart skips a beat when he hears the familiar tone of your voice, “You don’t like my music, Munson?”

Eddie pauses his task, blinking a few times to clear the possibility of the paint fumes finally getting to his head and making him hallucinate. And if Eddie’s hallucinating, then his brain is quite vivid because the click of your heels is drawing closer and closer with the smell of your sweet perfume.

Eddie puts the spray gun back on the cart next to him and stands up, facing you as you approach him. Eddie sighs, tipping his head to the side as he removes his gloves. This isn’t the first time he’s met you; no, he met you when he dropped the car off at your film set. You were kind and soft-spoken, with a pretty smile and voice that made Eddie’s chest erupt in butterflies he hadn’t felt in years. You were gorgeous then, and you’re gorgeous now, standing in front of him with that sinister little glint in your eyes.

You’re a pretty young thing, that much is obvious, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you crashed Eddie’s car.

“How can I help you, doll?”

You smile, tipping your head as you watch Eddie remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the tool cart along with the disposable gloves. “Need a paint job for my new car. Wanted the best in town.” You sweetly say.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “A paint job?”

You blink up at Eddie, pretty eyes and cute lashes batting up at him. God, you’re perfect. It's no wonder why the entire world is head over heels in love with you.

“You crashed my car, honey.” Eddie points out.

Your hopeful gaze falters then, lips dipping into a ghost of a frown, “It wasn’t my idea.” You respond. “You crashed my car. For a music video,” he drawls, “Do you know how much time I spent on that car?”

Bug seems to take that as his cue to leave because suddenly he’s tossing his tool in his toolbox and calling over his shoulder, “Goin’ to lunch, boss.” And there goes Eddie’s free lunch.

A flash of guilt passes through your eyes before you huff with a roll of your eyes, shifting to lean on one foot as you cross your arms over your chest, “It wasn’t your car.” 

“It’s got my work written all over it.”

“Again, it wasn’t my idea.”

Eddie tilts his head, lips pouting as he shrugs mockingly, in a way. “But you went with it.”

Eddie had been slowly walking you backward across the empty garage, pressing and pressing until you reached his parked car, your body coming to a sudden stop with a hitch in your breath. You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes for the second time, “Well, I was filming a music video. I just do what they tell me to and look pretty— it’s kind of my job, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes fall to your lips for a split second.

You lick your lips, cocking your head to the side as you gaze up at him, “Obviously.”

Eddie’s lips twitch like he wants to smile, a smirk lingering in his tone as he mocks you, “Obviously.”

“You really don’t like my music?”

You feel like you’re losing your mind. Not only are you standing in the famous Munson’s Paint & Body garage, but you’re standing face to face with the Eddie Munson— famous former NASCAR driver and hot as fuck body man.

It’s like all those Sundays you spent back in high school watching him race as your dad bet money with his friends on who would win are flashing before your eyes. Okay, so you’re fangirling a little bit; who wouldn’t? It’s Eddie fucking Munson.

“Never said I didn’t like your music; I just don’t like the fact that you crashed my car.”

And well, you feel bad. You didn’t know the car would get hurled off a cliff in the middle of the California desert, but it was a little late to protest against that when it was flying through the wind at 90 miles per hour with literal flames decorating the wheels.

“I’m sorry,” you finally apologize. “I shouldn’t have let them destroy your car… which was technically my car for my music video.” You and Eddie share a playful gaze, but it’s soon overthrown with something lustful when Eddie reaches out, fingers toying with the waistband of your denim skirt. “You’re playing with fire, princess.” He lowly says.

You hum, tipping your head as he towers over you, bodies pressing against one another as you dance along the edge of the thick line of tension, “Wanna do something about it?” A sly smirk and glinting brown eyes have you weak in the knees, your body heating up like a fucking furnace as the man silently gazes at you. 

It’s like the spread of wildfire when he presses his lips against yours, a warm hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses you against the hood of his car. Your skirt is short, and it rides up when he maneuvers you further up the hood. You let out a shaky breath against his lips when the cool metal of the car meets the hot skin of your thighs.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t somewhat come here with the intention of getting your hands on the handsome older man— there’s no denying there was some kind of energy bouncing between the two of you when you briefly met him on the set of your music video. Eddie’s got a way of looking at you with daring yet respectful eyes that make you want to pounce— he had it then when you first met, and he has it now.

He’s pawing at you like he’s addicted, big hands grasping at your sides as he practically devours you. It’s sloppy and wet and so fucking addicting you wish you didn’t have to breathe so you could just keep kissing him.

He’s slinking his hands down to your thighs, hooking them into the crooks of your knees and pressing them up, spreading you wide for him as he kisses down your neck. He reaches one hand up, tugging down at your shirt to give him room to mark the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitches when your bare nipple meets the cool air, and he laves his tongue over it, “W-what about— fuck.” You whimper as Eddie hums, kissing further down your body and fully pushing up your denim skirt to mouth at your thighs. You press your thighs closer together, pressing up onto your elbows to gaze down at Eddie as he kneels between your legs.

“What about your employees?” You ask.

Eddie mouths at your thigh, kneading at the fat of your skin as he speaks, “Just me and Bug today. Open up, baby.” His brown eyes are like swirling hypnotic pools, and your body moves in accord with his directions, thighs parting to show him the damp material of your flimsy panties.

Eddie groans, leaning forward to drag his tongue up the damp spot before gently nipping at the material. He’s impatient, so he only hooks his thumb in the hem of the cotton and hooks it off to the side, keeping it pinned beneath his thumb so he has full access to your dripping cunt. He doesn’t waste time, laving his tongue from your opening up to your clit, teasingly running the tip of his tongue in circles over your sensitive bud just to hum at the pitiful whimpers and whines that escape your mouth. 

Your eyes roll when he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking and teasing until you’re fully moaning, reaching down to thread your fingers into his curly locks, knuckles curling at the root to gently tug him deeper into your cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” He breathes, “Fuck my face, princess, there we go.” It’s so wet, his voice, so wet and eager and mind-numbingly gorgeous.

He teases two thick fingers at your entrance before sinking them into you and curling them in a come hither motion. Your legs twitch to close around his head, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so close.”

You’re teetering on the edge, heat brewing in your lower tummy as Eddie devours you like it’ll be his last fucking meal. The lights overhead are bright, and there’s heavy metal playing from the shop speakers. Still, all you can bring yourself to focus on is the sinful drag of Eddie’s tongue up and down the entirety of your cunt, sticky strings of arousal and spit smearing all over your thighs and his face, and your moans increase in volume when he slinks a hand up to squeeze at your chest.

His fingers are gentle yet overwhelming as they pet at your sensitive spot, and before you know it, you’re body is tensing, and you’re coming around his thick digits, soaking his chin as you fail to keep your thighs open and sounds to a minimum.

Eddie doesn’t mind, though, it seems, because he only moans and nuzzles his face deeper into your pussy, greedily licking into you like it’s his last chance— and hopefully it’s not.

You must have spaced out because, between the immense pleasure and the sinfully beautiful sight of Eddie between your thighs, you seem to only come back to earth once Eddie places your panties back over your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss to your covered and aching clit.

He snickers when you twitch in overstimulation, “You’re real cute when you cum, you know?” He says before pressing a kiss into your thigh. You huff out a laugh, leaning on your elbows to watch as he stands up to hover over you, pressing his palms into the hood of the car on either side of your blissed-out body. “Thank you?” You say. Eddie laughs, eyes twinkling with admiration as he gazes down at you.

“I’ll cut you a deal, alright?” He starts. Though your mind is still foggy with the lingering effects of your orgasm, your eyes narrow in suspicion as you tell Eddie to continue. Eddie sighs, leaning in further, “You let me take you on a date, and I’ll paint your car— I’ll also forget all about you crashing my car.”

Even if you want to point out that the car wasn’t Eddie’s, yet again, you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips as you give in and nod, “Okay. One date.”

Eddie beams, raising an eyebrow as he responds, “Yeah?” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you think the heat of the moment from before had been fuel to the boldness that you’re now lacking.

You nod before holding up your index finger, “One,” you stress, “No promises for a second. I don’t have another car for you to paint.” You joke, but Eddie only shrugs with a smug look.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got enough cars for you to last a lifetime of dates.”

[catboywizard]

heyyy hot takes at 4am time but like what is wrong with people?? we just received really huge awful news, let people have some time to process???

i just saw someone saying anyone upset about the neil gaiman thing because of what it means for good omens, something they loved deeply, is a “fucking monster”

like, good for you for never having anything you love be revealed to be made by an awful person, i guess?

of course we should be supporting and believing the victims, but people can be upset about things for more than one reason? and talking about one of those things doesn’t negate the other? (like right now, i’m specifically talking about the situation in the context of assholes online acting like they’re so much better then fans who are upset, and that doesn’t mean i think we shouldn’t be centering the victims and what they’ve gone through)

it took me a really long time to (mostly) get over harry potter because it was a huge part of me and something i cared about very deeply. even as a victim of jkr’s vitriol myself. now im at the point where thinking about the situation only hurts a little bit, but it took me like a year or even longer to get there. the neil gaiman news is less than 24 hours old at this point.

just, be nicer to good omens fans right now please. mourning something you loved so much it felt like a part of you doesn’t make you automatically selfish.

and if this kind of thing hasn’t happened to you yet, just know that any human is capable of terrible things like this, and that means any of your favorite creators. if one of them ever gets revealed to be a horrible person, i hope people are nicer to you about it then they are being right now.

note: i also saw a couple people saying stuff like “well yall should have dropped him ages ago when he was revealed to be a zionist/be creepy towards younger fans/write women characters really badly/etc.” and like yeah, that’s not great, but i didn’t know any of that stuff? i feel like a lot of discourse would be solved if people just remembered that the worlds a big place and just cause you know something doesn’t mean everyone does. it’s not a moral failing to have never been informed about something (also, i haven’t personally found any actual evidence of him being a zionist, just people claiming he is)

[lipglossanon]

Warm My Heart

Puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

paid request from anonymous; thank you so much again!! I’m happy you liked it! 💜

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, hybrid AU, jealous Leon, kissing, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, knotting, shower sex

Proofread ✍️

Word count: 1990

Your best friend finally moved out on her own. She now owns a small house in a quiet little neighborhood, but truthfully, it’s only a few doors down from her parents (so not too much of a change of pace). She insists you visit one Saturday, wanting to celebrate her new digs as well as introduce you to the new hybrid her parents gifted her as a housewarming present. 

She’s seen pics of you with Leon and it must’ve made some kind of impression. To be fair, he is super cute. You definitely got lucky when you opted to adopt him at the spur of the moment. When Saturday finally arrives, Leon pouts and pleads to go with you— whining about missing you, his big blue eyes teary and beseeching.

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” you promise, petting his soft, fuzzy ears, “and if you’re really good, I’ll give you a little treat when I get back home.”

His tail wags a bit even as his ears droop, “I’ll be good, miss owner. Please don’t stay gone too long.”

“I’ll try not to,” you kiss his forehead, and he licks a wet stripe up your cheek as he bids you goodbye at the door.

You have a pleasant enough time at your friend’s house; her bunny hybrid is sweet and playful, but extremely shy. She cuddles against you on the sofa for a bit before scampering off to her room. It makes you miss Leon just that much more. Feeling a little homesick, you say goodbye to your friend (promising you’ll visit again soon) and head home. 

Leon’s been such a good boy lately that you’re not too worried about coming home to a messy house. Parking in the driveway, you can see his silhouette at the window before the curtain falls shut, and you smile, knowing he’ll be at the entryway as soon as you go inside. Swinging open the front door, Leon bounces on the balls of his feet, wagging tail a blur behind him. 

After you shut and lock the door, he’s all over you, scenting you all over. He suddenly freezes and growls low in his throat. 

“Why do you smell different?”

He presses his nose against your arm, dragging his face down your side, before kneeling in front of you and sniffing across your hip. 

“You probably smell that little bunny hybrid from earlier,” your tone gentle, hoping to negate any extreme jealousy, “she sat next to me on the couch.”

“Miss owner,” his hands grasp the hem of your skirt, bunching it as he slides his hands up your thighs, “it’s really rude to come home smelling like someone else.”

“Leon,” you gasp, stumbling back against the front door as he nuzzles against your panty clad mound. 

“Gotta make sure you know who you belong to, miss owner,” he laps at your cunt through the fabric, making you buck your hips. 

Pulling away, he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you all the way back into your room. Tossing you down onto the bed, he paws at your clothes until he’s able to pull them all off, leaving you totally nude for his hungry gaze.

“So pretty,” he pants, his tail thumping against the bed. “You smell so good, can’t wait to lick you up.”

He shuffles around to remove his own clothes before sitting between your spread thighs. Precum drools from the tip of his cock, falling in sticky strings down his shaft onto the bedspread. It makes your mouth water, but he doesn’t give you time to stare. Leon lays flat on his stomach, burying his face into your drippy pussy. 

“Oh, god,” you mewl, your hands reaching down to tangle in his soft hair, being careful not to hurt his ears. 

A hot, wet tongue flutters into your pussy drawing your attention down to the soaking wet mess between your thighs. Leon groans and flattens his tongue to lick a stripe up your cunt to suck your pudgy clit. 

“This pussy tastes like mine,” he huffs out, blue eyes looking up at you. “I own it, don’t I, miss owner?”

When you don’t answer, he bites your leg with a low snarl. Keening, you tug his hair a little harder. 

“Yes, yes, Leon, s’your pussy,” you moan, arching your hips towards his mouth. 

He gently nips your swollen bud and kisses down your soaked pussy lips to tongue fuck your hole. His hands come up and pin your hips to the bed as he devours your cunt, groaning and growling as he thrusts his tongue in and out of your pussy. Slick and spit run down your skin to pool underneath your ass. 

“Cum all over my tongue,” he uses one hand to pull the hood of your clit back, “so I can give you my puppy knot, breed you nice and full.”

He licks and kisses your exposed bundle of nerves until your thighs tremble. Slick drips from your hole nonstop as he suckles your clit into his mouth, tongue hot and slippery against the bud until your body jerks, orgasm whiting out your senses. 

“Good owner,” he says excitedly, “now I’m gonna cum all over you so you’ll smell like me.”

“What?” You slur out, pussy still throbbing. 

“You’ll see, pretty owner,” he grunts, shoving your thighs up over his hips as he jerks his cock. 

He presses the drooling head against your abdomen and strokes himself off, shclick schlick schlick echoing in your ears. Whining, he aims his cock up and shoots thick stripes of cum all across your stomach and breasts. You moan loudly. The hot sticky feeling of his cum coating your skin sends fresh arousal leaking from your cunt. 

“Don’t worry, I’m still hard for you,” he drags his cock down to rut against your slit, “won’t pop my knot til I’m inside your tight pussy.”

Mewling, you claw at the sheets as Leon notches the fat head of his cock at your hole and teasingly slips the first few inches in before pulling out. 

“Oh, please, Leon,” tossing your head back, you roll your hips, seeking more from him, “please.”

“So pretty, miss owner,” he hums low in his throat, pressing his cock inside your snug pussy, “you’re so perfect, and you’re all mine. Say it, and I’ll give you my fat puppy knot.”

“Give it to me, Leon, please,” you whine. “I’m all yours, promise. You’re my only sweet boy.”

He whimpers, hips jumping as he fucks into you sloppily, “Oh, miss owner.”

He bottoms out quickly, cock thick and heavy inside your fluttering walls. Your cunt squeezes and clamps down around his dick, making him grind against you. His tip grazes your cervix, and you wail, the pain melding into pleasure that makes your eyes water. Leon pulls all the way out before bullying himself back into your squelching hole, grunting as his balls smack against your ass. 

“So good, so tight,” he chuffs, ears perked and tail drumming against your legs, “gonna give you my pups, gonna knot you over and over.”

Leon leans forward and licks across your mouth, leaving a trail of spit. 

“Hold your tongue out,” he growls, his pupils blown wide. 

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and he laps at it, dripping saliva all over your chest. 

“Lick mine,” he murmurs before going back to pressing your tongues together. 

You whine, pussy leaking slick all over his cock while you and Leon lick each other's tongues, making a complete mess of your lips and chins. The spit that drips onto your chest makes your blood run hot. He pulls back to grab your wrists with one hand and hold them above your head. 

“Mmm, always so sweet, miss owner,” he grins, rocking forward and making you writhe on his cock.

“Feels so good,” you gasp out, eyes fluttering when he grinds across the spongy spot at the front of your cunt. 

Leon pulls out suddenly, and you cry at the loss of heat and pressure. He flips you over onto your stomach, making you yelp at the new change. Grabbing your hips, he angles your ass up higher before plunging his cock back inside your chubby cunt. 

“Leon, fuck, s’too deep,” you whine, drool slipping from your lips as your mouth drops open.

“Means it’s a good angle for my knot to take,” he groans, humping harder and faster, “my owner’s the best, got the best pussy, gonna keep you on my knot all the time.”

“Leon,” you moan, “I promise I’m all yours.”

Your breasts, sticky with cum, drag against the sheets as Leon’s thrusts jostle you across the bed.

“You’re squeezing me so tight.”

He drops forward and cages in your body, nuzzling against your neck and shoulders. Leon slips a hand underneath you, spreading open your pussy lips to flick and rub your swollen clit. He circles it over and over until that tight band of arousal in your core snaps. Crying out, you press back against him, legs shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna stuff you full, creampie this pretty pussy,” he groans, thrusting into you deeper. 

With every rock of his hips, you can feel the swell of his knot pushing against your hole, teasing you with the promise of Leon’s thick load. He nips and bites at your shoulders, hand softly rubbing your clit to make your pussy flutter and milk his cock. He pounds into your cunt a few more times before his knot finally pops—he shoves it into your soft walls, locking you two together. Hot, thick cum shoots out, painting your cervix white while Leon howls softly. 

“It’s so much,” you whisper, voice cracking. 

He grinds against you as he keeps spurting rope after rope inside your dripping pussy. 

“My pretty owner’s full of my sticky puppy cum,” he chuffs against your ear. “Once my knot goes down, I’m gonna stuff you full all over again.”

“Leon,” you mewl, pussy throbbing. 

His fingers continue to rub and tease your clit until a second orgasm washes over you, racking your body with pleasure as you squeeze around his dick like a vice. You sink into your bed and he follows you down, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach. 

True to his word, Leon keeps you on his knot for the rest of the day. Once it goes down the first time, he rearranges you until you're bent over the bed, pounding into your pussy until your legs practically give out. The third time, he helps you to the shower, but instead of washing you, he wraps your legs around his waist and knots you against the shower wall. 

His mouth latches onto your nipples, and he brings you off by just suckling the stiff buds as he pumps your knotted pussy full of cum. Once you beg him for a break, he relents. Helps wash you off once his knot deflates and slips from your hole, cum and slick dripping in thick globs down your thighs. He eagerly licks it up and eats it out of your pussy.

“Taste just like me,” he pants happily, wet tail slinging water as the shower head rains down on you both. 

“I’m too sensitive,” you plead with him, “let me rest, please, Leon. Be a good boy and let me rest.”

He hums happily, blinking water from his eyes as he looks adoringly up at you, “Alright, miss owner. She sure is swollen and wet.”

He runs a featherlight touch across your pussy making your thighs jump. Standing back up, he pulls you into a hug, kissing your cheek. 

“I’ll getcha cleaned up,” he murmurs. 

He helps you finish up in the shower before guiding you to his room since your sheets are totally trashed. Laying you down on his bed, you drift off with Leon snuggling next to you. 

[phantomfallacy]

There’s not nearly enough analyses of Wriothesley and the panopticon that is Meropide.

Like, sure, the connection is there, but are your lines connecting to the right points? Because if you think Wriothesley’s office is the control tower and the Fortress is his all-knowing domain, I think you’re wrong.

Spoilers for his character quest and the Meropide world quest ahead, as well as various tidbits in mini quests:

The Unfinished Comedy reveals that there is a child who had been born in the prison, more or less a decade ago. More than enough time for Wriothesley to “discover” her. But he doesn’t. He is, without a doubt, an advocator of children, and would never allow her to stay in prison if he can help it. No matter what excuse there is, such as being busy with the reformation of the prison, the Fatui invasion, or the Wingalet construction, it doesn’t negate the fact that Wriothesley doesn’t know, or he would’ve acted.

The Beret Society as well, while coming under Wriothesley’s purview, has existed long enough to brainwash and break the spirits of the people who have joined. He had no evidence that Dougier had been breaking rules and infringing on human rights.

So no, Wriothesley, contrary to the Fortress of Meropide description, does not know everything that goes on in the Fortress, and he tells us so.

So then why does the description say otherwise?

The concept of the panopticon is that a single prison warden can maintain order because people will never be able to tell if his eyes are on them. As a result, they will behave, regardless of whether the warden is truly watching or not. Wriothesley tells us that he doesn’t have eyes and ears everywhere because we are not a prisoner. We do not need to be intimidated into behaving. Moreover, the Traveler seems to be an exception to everything like a harem protagonist so let’s discount “our” knowledge of Wriothesley’s claim.

What I think slaps the most though, is that his panopticon isn’t just the Fortress, but the Court of Fontaine as well.

It is mentioned that Wriothesley knows the ongoings of the overworld despite rarely coming up. The citizens of Fontaine see Meropide as this horrible place, even after Wriothesley’s reforms, and it’s not only because of prejudice (though that is most certainly the case), but because of his refusal to be perceived. He refuses Charlotte’s interviews, though being a Duke would most certainly put him in the eye of the public. This is a tentative maintenance of his public persona: that of a cruel and unfathomable man.

“The less people see of me, the happier they will be.”

If people understood that Meropide had welfare meals, stable work hours, and relatively accessible healthcare, why would they be incentivized to follow the law? Especially those of Fleuvre Cendre. But Meropide cannot possibly be that kind of haven. It is a prison, and forever should be—because it is not sustainable.

What humans cannot understand, they fear, and that works to keep the rest of Fontaine in check from committing crimes. No one wants to go to prison, no one wants to suffer, no one wants to see the Duke of Meropide. It’s embedded into the very society, so much that they have pop culture-like phrases for it.

The Duke’s office isn’t the control tower. The whole of Meropide Fortress is, and Fontaine is the “prison.”

There are other interpretations of course, such as the factor of more recent commentary on panopticons and how they bring up the topic of holding those in absolute power accountable. The warden at the center of the panopticon has absolute power, but how is he to be kept accountable?

It could be a hint about how Wriothesley isn’t as in control as he presents himself, and the way he rules is dependent on the people who keep him in check. After all, he says that as Duke, he must set an example of persecuting only after evidence has been found of a wrongdoing, otherwise he could have simply killed Dougier. However, that would certainly bring the Fortress down around him as people questioned his reputation as a fair ruler. (Cough bringing back my sword of Damocles bullshit here//shot).

Alternatively, Wriothesley himself could be a sword of Damocles upon Fontaine, evidenced by Neuvillette’s story quest, but I feel like that would be a Wriolette thread…

Without the source material confirming anything, we’re just playing with Schrödinger’s cat though. Just some food for thought.

Next time on Dragon Ball Z: my TED Talk on why the Fortress of Meropide is not called the Fortress of Atlantis because Wriothesley presents it as communism but it is totalitarian and why that works— (Kidding, I don’t wanna touch this with a ten foot pole pls don’t respond with political philosophies I will perish 🫠🫠🫠😵)

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry is at a Quidditch game, and he’s having a dreadful time. There should be some universal rule that negates this possibility. It’s Quidditch, he’s Harry – it’s the perfect pairing. He should be watching the Wimbourne Wasps crush the Ballycastle Bats and munching on some delightful treacle Sugar Sweeps while enjoying his first date in months.

Except they only have the licorice-flavoured Sugar Sweeps.

Except his team is losing horrendously.

Except his date – Jeanine, or Jeannie; something with a J – is more interested in flirting with anyone other than him. She’d tried to catch the eye of the unfairly attractive man sitting on Harry’s other side for a good twenty minutes. When she made no progress, her attention shifted to orchestrating a threesome with her friend and Draco. Rude.

(And no matter how far they’ve come from the bitter rivalry of their youth, Harry still hates to lose to Mal– Draco. He’d feel worse about that if the other man didn’t feel the exact same way – and if the prat looked less bloody smug.)

This is the last time he lets the blond convince him to go on a blind double-date. Merlin, what was he thinking when he agreed to this?

The Wasps call a timeout to discuss strategy (not that it’s likely to help at this point) and that’s when the worst of it happens. Some genius decided Quidditch needed a kiss cam for the slower moments of a match. If Harry ever finds out who, he’s going to hex their toes off.

That’s the thought that runs through his mind as he sees himself and Jacqueline on each of the floating screens bobbing around the Quidditch stadium.

His eyes slide helplessly to the side, where Jasmine is already inching away from him. This is so bloody embarrassing. He can feel his cheeks redden in mortification and is sure his deer-in-the-headlights expression will be immortalised in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.

He sure wishes he had a time turner – he’d go back to this morning and stay in bed the whole day.

He can hear laughter breaking out from the other spectators the longer the camera lingers on him. Why haven’t they moved on to another pair? Or at the very least shifted three feet to the right; Harry’s certain Jolene and her friend or Draco (or hell, all three, why not) would be happy to give the viewers a show.

And then he feels a tap on his left shoulder. 

It’s not that he’d forgotten about the extremely hot man sitting to his left. But the reminder of the human perfection to his side while this debacle unfolds kind of makes him want to stand up and leave. Or blow something up.

He turns to Mr. Sex-on-Legs and smiles weakly. The man returns his smile, and while it’s a little sharp, it’s not mocking. Hurray for small mercies.

“May I?” Unreasonably Handsome Stranger asks.

“Uh,” Harry replies eloquently. May he what? Harry swiftly decides he doesn’t need more details. This man could be asking for his kidney and as long as it makes this whole situation less painful, Harry’s on board. “Sure…?”

Unreasonably Handsome Stranger tilts Harry’s face up and swoops in. Harry can’t stop the confused squeak from leaving him – so much for less shameful – and then he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. Holy shite.

This is awesome.

Harry kind of forgets why this man is kissing him and what’s going on around him, because it doesn’t matter. The most gorgeous person he’s ever seen in real life is pressing his lips against Harry’s with intent, with skill – is that his tongue? All higher brain functions have ceased in order to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

When they finally pull back for air, Harry finds his hands are gripping the man’s collar and holding him close. He figures that’s fine, considering the man has one hand wound through Harry’s hair and the other is still cupping his jaw.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, brain still taking a break from thinking. The other man smirks knowingly at him, and Harry would probably take offence to that if the man’s perfectly formed cheekbones weren’t flushed pink, showing he’s not as unaffected as he might pretend to be.

“Er. I’m Harry.”

“Tom.”

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

This makes Smokin' Hot Tom chuckle, which in turn makes his eyes crinkle up adorably. Oh bother – Harry might be in trouble.

He’s aware, peripherally, that someone behind him is aggressively clearing their throat. He only bothers to care about it when Tom shoots an unimpressed look at the source of the noise.

When Harry turns to follow Tom’s gaze, he comes face to face with an irate Julienne, her glaring friend, and Draco, who can’t seem to decide whether he’s impressed or pissed off.

He shrugs, grinning dopily. “It just isn’t going to work out, Josephine.”

She gives him a baleful look. “My name is Petra.”

Whoops. Not even close. “Sorry – Petra. Have fun with Draco and …your friend.”

He sends a teasing salute to Draco and starts dragging Tom towards the exit. Speaking of having fun – he’s sure they can find an alcove somewhere around here to continue what Tom started.

—

Harry’s picture is indeed in the Prophet the next day. But he supposes that’s only to be expected when he’s caught publicly snogging the visiting ambassador from the French Ministry of Magic.

[multifandomfix]

Hannibal Lecter Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loving, doting, the best example there is of an aftercare king. He’ll run you a bath, make sure you’re properly hydrated after your exertion. Anything you want or need is exactly what you’ll get.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Honestly, take your pick. He likes the whole of you. Every part is just as beautiful to him as the next.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

Not outwardly. He keeps any marks where they’d be well covered. He still wants you to look beautiful and the marks are just for you and him to see.

D = Dominant (who is in control? are they a top or bottom?)

He’s mostly a top, loving the surrender you give him, but he’s also flexible if you want to take the reins so to speak.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows what he’s doing. He’s even able to teach you a thing or two about your own body and pleasure.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Though he’s not fond of just referring to it as ‘fucking’ the acts are essentially one and the same to him. He can be both rough and tender. And one doesn’t necessarily have to negate the other.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, entirely. He feels it makes it a safe space to explore the depths of true desire without embarrassment or nerves getting in the way.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you eat or drink. Something as simple as watching you swirl a wine glass or savor the taste of his cooking at that first bite and it takes his entire willpower not to take you right then and there.

I = Insatiable (how do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

His more primal instincts kick in then. He’ll be on you the moment you walk in the door and his hands will roam your body as he’s breathing heavy in your ear.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy the act, in fact he sees it as being quite cathartic at times, but he vastly prefers a partner for that kind of thing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Anything that combines sex and art. Shibari is a particular favorite. And he’s also fond of using body safe paint, having even framed one of your creations while covered in it during sex.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

He typically keeps it to the bedroom, but he does love when the occasion presents itself to have you splayed out for him on his dining table. It’s the art and the metaphor of it that he enjoys.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Hannibal likes a slow build. Kisses that get progressively more wanton, caresses that become gentle squeezes. A slow and natural progression to the bedroom is the perfect way for him.

N = Naked (how do they undress? do they like to watch you undress?)

Slow and careful. He has very fine clothing and isn’t keen on tearing off his clothes for the sake of sex. He loves watching you undress and helping you along the way as you put a show on for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He much prefers giving. His skill is giving you head is unmatched. He relishes the taste of you on his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually starts off slowly, savoring every second, but if he’s been particularly desperate for you, expect him to be a little rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not one for quickies. They’re often sloppy and not nearly as gratifying in his opinion.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t mind trying out new things to spice up your sex life. As long as everything is properly negotiated beforehand, he’ll try whatever you’re into, and respects that you pay him the same courtesy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Though Hannibal could probably easily go several rounds in a night, he generally prefers to stop at one, knowing that the first orgasm is probably going to be the best, so why improve upon perfection?

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

Not as a rule. He has done so, of course, but it isn’t the way he prefers his sexual encounters to be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He has teasing basically down to a science. He knows just how to tease you and for how long to make the most of your pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not overly loud, but he certainly isn’t silent either. He doesn’t hold back when he feels the need to moan or anything else. Whatever is natural for the both of you, should be expressed.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Once he’s established the proper amount of trust, whatever that means for him. He’ll have a conversation about it before jumping right into bed. It’s all about timing.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hannibal is incredibly handsome and very fit. He has impeccable grooming and he looks like a statue carved from marble.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, really, maybe even a bit lower than the average man. He has many interests and hobbies after all and doesn’t feel that sex needs to take up all of his time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Quite a while. He likes to take care of you, of himself and reflect, play it over in his mind and note the things he’d do again and maybe some things he’d reserve only for certain times or types of play.

For anon

Hannibal Lecter: @jkthighs, @riveranddoctorsong123, @jokerhorse, @brwnicons, @floraltxt, @locke-writes, @mattxxamryli, @smilely-days, @danimorgan1708, @onlinecemetery