#pink bikini target

[sephorashop2024]

Get free $750 Sephora Shop Now: Click Here: https://go4affm.com/c/?p=17666&o=14598

[nyc-looks]

Mikay, 20

”I am wearing a bikini top from Target, lingerie top from Burlington, thrifted pink flowy button up and skirt, orange skirt are from Forever 21, tights are Snag Tights, leg warmers from Amazon, and shoes from Rainbow. I love color, trying new things, layers, and anything cute. I also love do my makeup it's one of the ways I express myself the most. I feel like most of the time my style is very fairytale or mermaid inspired. I also get, that I give aliyahcore which I also see. I try to bring as much color and fun into a very beige world and also get a lot of inspiration from my friends.”

Apr 20, 2024 ∙ Gowanus

[heartsforvin]

UNTOUCHABLE

bfb is probably one of my favorite tropes 😣 stream bfb by victoria justice 💋

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, praise, use of pet names, dirty talk, cussing, oral (f receiving), slight choking kink, dom!vinnie, age gap (r’s 19, v’s 22), loss of virginity, slight breeding kink, perv!vinnie, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary: you’re untouchable to vinnie, considering you’re his brothers best friend, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore

a/n: guys i loveee writing perv!vinnie can you tell yet ?? (i can’t help it, i love the idea 🤭)

he needed you. needed you in every and any way he could get you. he felt wrong, though. almost gross, like he shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you.

you are his brothers best friend, he’s known you for years, that’s one of the reasons why he feels a bit disgusted by himself.

just a bit, though.

you’ve been around since his brother entered the sixth grade, so you have basically grown up with this family. having spent many summers, along with just nights in general with the family.

he’s seen you through puberty, and he can’t lie, once you started filling out and growing more, he couldn’t help but spare a few glances once in awhile.

you’ve always thought nothing of it, always thought that was just the big brother instinct in him — to watch over not only reggie while the two of you hung out, but you as well.

you didn’t realize until around sophomore year of high school though, that it was more of just tiny glances and hand touches.

you thought vinnie was attractive, sure. especially when he got a little older. when the tattoos became a regular addition to his body along with the abs.

you’d never let him know that outright though. part of you always thought he was full of himself.

when you noticed he started gaining fame, you thought he was taking it all to his head.

he’d post those thirst traps, and though you did find them hot when you were sixteen, seventeen, you just thought he was full of it now.

vinnie has always been a bit more touchy with you. always finding an excuse to rub up against you or touch your hand.

you’d always just push him off, telling him to back off before reggie saw and got the wrong impression.

that’s the last thing you needed. for your best friend to know you were into his brother.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

“need some help, princess?” you heard his voice and immediately rolled your eyes as you planted your heals back on the ground.

it was a hot summer day, and all you wanted to do was hang out with reggie by the pool.

he had asked you to go grab more plastic cups from the house, to which you agreed.

now here you were, standing on your tip toes as you tried to reach the top shelf.

you felt vinnie’s front press against your back, his breath on your ear as he reached his arm to the shelf with ease.

“thanks.” you reply meekly, already over him for the day.

he flashed you a smile before heading back to the stairs, probably back up to his room to play video games.

you made it back outside quickly, not wanting to take too long for reggie to notice you went missing for minutes on end.

the two of you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet in the water as you drank soda in the cups you had just brought out.

you were talking about college and what classes the two of you were taking when you heard the back door open.

turning around, you saw vinnie walk out in only his swim trunks, tattoos on full display.

rolling your eyes, you turned back to your best friend as the two of you continued talking.

about ten minutes later, reggie had mentioned he needed to use the bathroom and that he’ll be out in a minute.

you nodded and set your cup down next to you, watching as vinnie replaced reggie’s spot as soon as the back door shut.

“that a new suit?” he questioned, making you look down to see which one you were wearing.

it was a light pink string bikini. you saw it at target weeks prior and remembered you needed a new suit for the summer.

vinnie’s eyes raked over your body as you sat next to him. he gave a longer glance at your tits, seeing how nice they fit in your top.

his gaze moved down to your thighs, looking at the plush skin and imagining what it’d be like to get in between them.

he wondered a lot of things about you. he had overheard a conversation you had with reggie once, talking about how experienced the two of you were.

it was nothing odd or uncomfortable for you to talk about with the younger sibling, if anything it was normal.

the two of you knew everything about each other, nothing was too off limits or tmi.

so when vinnie heard you had never had sex with anyone, he smiled to himself, hoping he could be the first person to pleasure you.

“what do you want?” your sharp tone broke him out of his thoughts. “reg’s gonna be back in a minute, can’t have him getting the wrong idea.”

if anything he’d probably expect nothing of it, just his best friend and his brother having a normal conversation.

you were terrified of him having the wrong impression on the two of you though. he’s asked you before if you’ve ever had even the slightest crush on his brother, to which you just laughed.

if he had asked you about three years ago, maybe the answer would be yes, but now? hell no.

the touch on your thigh almost made you spit out your drink. “you don’t want that,” vinnie breathed. “i could personally care less of what my brother thinks im doing with anyone.”

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, placing it in his lap. as soon as you did, you heard the back door open again.

“you guys hungry?” you heard reggie call out, to which you moved quicker than ever.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

later on that night, you and reggie got ready to chill and watch a movie. you had decided to spend the night last minute, it was a friday night after all so neither of you had classes in the morning.

as you were walking back to reggie’s room from the bathroom, you could’ve sworn you heard what sounded like moaning that came from the eldest boys’ room.

you stopped in front of his door, wondering if you should bust in and interrupt to make fun of him, or to stay here a minute.

you never really imagined vinnie in that way. not often at least. the thought did cross your mind here and there, but you pushed it back.

you didn’t like him. didn’t like how he gawked at you — looked at you like prey. how he was always touching you in some way.

at the same time though, you kind of did like it. no guy had ever really paid any mind to you, and vinnie does.

maybe it was just the male validation you so desperately craved, or maybe you actually did like vinnie.

as you stood there, you could’ve sworn you heard your name fall out of his mouth, which made your eyes go wide.

you contemplated on what you wanted to do. you could easily go back to reggie’s room and apologize for taking too long. or you could fulfill both yours and vinnie’s fantasies.

with a shaky exhale, you slowly pushed the door open and the sight before you made you instantly wet.

there he was, naked from the chest down, his boxers resting on his ankles, as he jerked himself off with your swimsuit top.

it was disgusting, filthy even, but for some reason you found it so hot in this moment.

you don’t even remember where you had put your suit after the swim earlier. either way, vinnie found it and decided to put it to use.

you just stood there, unable to move as you watched his fist move rapidly with your swimsuit top in hand, watching, listening to the noises he made.

“s-shit princess, yeah just like that.” you heard him say, making you clench around nothing.

when his eyes opened that’s when you gasped, covering your mouth in case it was too loud.

vinnie didn’t even hesitate to try and put on his boxers or even cover himself with a blanket.

“what are you doing in here, sweetheart?” his tone was low, gaze fixated on you and your sleep shirt.

you wore shorts underneath but they were short, so it went unnoticed. when vinnie saw your bare legs, he smiled.

you didn’t answer him, feeling embarrassed for even being in here at all. you felt dirty.

“come here,” vinnie said as he threw your cum-stained swimsuit top on the ground. “come sit on my lap, baby.”

you smiled, a rush of energy and confidence running through you now. you always wondered deep down what it’d be like to be on his lap, in his arms.

he had draped a blanket over his half-hard dick. no doubt it’ll be back to its hard state in a matter of seconds.

you straddled the man’s lap, your hands around his neck while his rested on your ass. your shirt rose up so your shorts were now visible.

“kinda hoped you were only wearin’ panties under this,” he chuckled as he smacked your ass. “would love to see those cute ones, y’know with the strawberries on ‘em?”

you blush, having packed those exact ones for tomorrow morning when you went back to your house to get a change of clothes.

his grip on you tightens, he’s got you where he’s wanted you for months now.

“or,” he starts, moving closer to your ear, kissing right under it softly. “that black thong you have. god, is that hot.”

you can’t believe this is happening. reggie would kill you if he found out vinnie laid a finger on you in this sort of situation.

“vinnie,” you whine as he moves you against his lap, your cunt grinding against his cock. “please.”

he smirks. “please what?” he asks as he leans in, mouths almost touching.

you squirm on him, making vinnie grip you a bit harder to keep you in place. “need you, want you.”

vinnie smiles before he places his lips on yours. the kiss turns hungry fast, hands roaming each others bodies as your tongues meet together.

“switch with me,” he says before lifting you off his lap. you stand on the ground as he does the same. “lay on the bed.”

you do as told, laying on the bed fully clothed while he stays how he is. once your head meets his pillow, vinnie climbs back on the bed and hovers over you.

he kisses your neck, making sure to leave marks even if you protest. he makes his way down to your collarbone and is soon tugging at the collar of your shirt.

your eyes widen as he takes the shirt off of you without even asking. he smirks as he looks up at you. “no bra, huh?” he asks.

you blush, even though you shouldn’t be embarrassed for being comfortable, there’s a part of you that is.

vinnie see’s your eyes shift and brings his hand up to your cheek, caressing it softly. you smile and lean into his touch.

without any warning he’s got his mouth planting kisses all down your chest and to your stomach. you grab his hair and tug at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

when he makes it to your shorts, he looks up at you and asks if he can take them off along with your panties.

you nod but then give him the verbal confirmation, he wastes no time pulling them off you.

“look at you,” his tone is deep, making chills run down your body. “already so wet f’me.” he says, slowly dragging a finger through your folds.

you whimper at the contact, grabbing his hair and tugging as his finger swipes against you.

you watch as he lowers himself on the bed, laying flat against his chest, his face now mere inches from where you need him.

all your nerves are gone, as if you aren’t scared for what’s about to come and how to handle everything.

vinnie smiles up at you before he dives in, sucking on your clit as you tug at the locks of his hair.

“taste so good, pretty,” he moans into you, making you whine in pleasure. “such a good girl for me.”

the praise goes straight to your head as you feel vinnie grip your thighs, holding you in place.

as his tongue continues to suck on your clit, he slides his index finger along your folds before pushing it into you.

a loud moan rips from your throat but vinnie’s quick to clamp a hand over your mouth, shushing you.

“don’t want reggie to get the wrong impression now, do we?” he asks, referring to what you told him earlier.

you shake your head, his hand still covering your mouth. he smiles as he removes the tattooed hand away from you, lifting his head to kiss you softly.

his mouth is on your sensitive pussy once again, with his index finger curling inside you, making you close your legs around him.

vinnie groans as he pushes your legs open again, he continues his actions before he feels the grip on his hair tighten.

“v-vinnie,” you moan softly, feeling a knot in your lower belly tighten. “baby.”

his gaze reaches you, he knows what’s coming and his movements quickened. you tighten your legs around his head, gripping the sheets as you moan profanities.

you try your best to stay as quiet as you can, but it’s no use once you feel yourself release on the man’s face below you.

vinnie smiles as he catches every ounce, lifting up and leaning on his elbows as he looks up at you.

“thanks for the warning, princess.” vinnie chuckles as he pushes himself up to hover over you.

you blush with a slight smile, suddenly feeling nervous now that the real thing might happen.

vinnie gives you a sweet smile, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “what’s wrong?”

the question is genuine, throwing you off since he’s usually not like that with you.

“i’m a virgin,” you say quietly, lowering your head. vinnie lifts your chin with his index finger, kissing you softly.

“i can’t promise you i’ll be gentle, you know how bad ive been wanting this.” he tells you truthfully.

you nod, knowing already that if this were to happen he’d definitely not be the slightest bit of gentle with you.

he gives you a look to ask if you’re ready, you nod but also let out a quiet but audible ‘yes’ to let him know.

he kisses you roughly before pulling back and positioning himself to enter you.

once he does, you gasp at the feeling of having him inside you. he waits a minute for you to adjust before he starts moving.

he grips your hips, thrusting hard into you as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

he smiles. he’s been wanting this for so long now, cant believe he’s finally got you where he wanted you.

“fuck vin, you’re so big.” you moan, watching as vinnie gives you a smirk.

he moves his hand to grab yours, bringing it down to your lower tummy. “you feel that, pretty girl? that’s all me, fillin’ you up so good, yeah?”

you whimper at the feeling of having his cock inside you. you grab his hand and squeeze tightly.

“feel good, huh? like havin’ my cock inside you, baby? feeling me everywhere?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

you nod with a soft moan followed by it, trying your best to not be so loud no matter how good it feels.

the pain subsided and turned to pleasure, making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

as vinnie’s thrusts became quicker, you watched as his hand slid from your hip to your throat in a matter of seconds, applying pressure.

he saw you smile and applied a bit more pressure. “you like that, don’t you?” he asks.

you try to nod the best you can, vinnie leans in to kiss you and you immediately meet him, kissing back with just as much need as he is you.

he watches you pull apart from his lips and start to move your hand down to your clit.

“nuh, uh,” he smacks your hand away. “i’m not done with you yet.”

before you can speak, he’s flipping you over so you’re on top now. you’ve never been in this position so he helps you guide yourself on him.

“yeah, just like that, good girl.” he praises when he feels you clench around him. “fuck you feel amazing.”

you soon catch on and give yourself a rhythm, bouncing on him with ease while vinnie grabs your tits and squeezes them in his palms.

“been wanting to get my hands on these for so long, y’know that, sweet girl?” he tells you as he lowers his mouth to your chest.

he takes your right breast into his mouth and sucks, definitely leaving marks. he gives the left one the same attention after.

“vinnie.” you moan, throwing your head back at the feeling of his mouth on your chest.

he watches you ride him, completely obsessed of the sight in front of him. as much as your swimsuit top was doing wonders for him, actually being inside you is definitely better.

vinnie squeezes your tits once more before gripping your hips again. “god you feel so good sweetheart,” he groans. “wanna fill you up, put a baby in you.”

he doesn’t even register what he says, just spewing words, feeling way too good in the moment.

you however do register what he said. “want it vin,” you whine out.

he smirks, gliding his thumbs against the plush of your thighs. “yeah, you want me to knock you up? have my babies? bet you someone would be very mad if they found out.”

you know who he’s talking about but right now you don’t care. the euphoria completely washes over all the fear from you.

his thrusts become faster and harsher, making you hold onto his shoulders for support. your head dips to rest in the crook of his neck while his hands move to cup your ass.

he bounces you on him, moans erupting from both of you as your highs near.

vinnie’s hand moves from your ass to your clit, rubbing harsh circles. “gonna cum, sweet girl. you’re gonna cum with me, ‘kay?”

you nod, a loud moan slipping from your lips at the pressure of his harsh rubs.

“almost baby, come on,” he urges, you continue your movements, scratching his back as you do. “fuck, sweetheart i’m there.”

before you can confirm that you are too, you’re already spilling out of him as he spills into you. he pushes himself into more, smirking as he does.

“gotta make sure it says in there if you want it to work, right?” he asks, to which you just sleepily nod.

the two of you stay connected for a minute before vinnie decides to pull out of you. you whine at the loss of contact to which he kisses your forehead.

you fall onto his bed with a loud sigh, smiling at the man next to you while he wraps his arms around you.

“do you think he heard?” you ask quietly.

vinnie stays silent for a moment, before saying, “you’re probably gonna have to have a long talk with him. me and you.” he explains.

you sigh, not wanting to deal or even think about the talk you’re gonna have to have with your best friend in the morning.

he sees your frustration and holds you tighter, kissing your cheek. you smile.

you want to ask the question but it’s probably dumb and he’ll probably just laugh, thinking you’re just some naïve kid.

you decide to stay silent, basking in this moment of being in his arms right now.

“goodnight, vinnie.” you say quietly as you nuzzle into his chest.

he smiles, hugging you tighter. “goodnight, princess.” he responds, kissing your head.

you hoped this wouldn’t be the last time you got to feel his touch.

HEYYYYY I LOVED THIS 🤗🤗 sorry if it’s so damn long, i had so much fun writing it !!!

i hope you all liked it as much as I did, pls lmk cus i LOVE yalls feedback (unless you don’t like it, keep that shit to yourself LMAO)

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @violet0182 , @hallecarey1 , @kayleighh , @laylasbunbunny , @louloulemons-blog , @st4rswrld , @kriissy4gov

[gloriousartisanruins]

Rule#1: A sissy does not have a cock. A sissy has a clitty

Rule#2: A sissy wears a bra and panties

Rule#3: A sissy loves cock

Rule#4: A sissy loves cum

Rule#5: A sissy takes it in the ass

Rule#6: A sissy loves pink

Rule#7: A sissy loves her toys

Rule#8: A sissy dresses like a slut

Rule#9: A sissy shares

Rule#10: Sissies love facials

Rule#11: A sissy must have a tight ass

Rule#12: A sissy must have perfect bimbo makeup

Rule#13: A sissy grows big fake tits

Rule#14: A sissy is a pro cock sucker

Rule#15: One is not enough

Rule#16: A sissy belongs on her knees

Rule#17: A sissy doesn’t forget to practice

Rule#18: Sissies swallow

Rule#19: A sissy begs for it

Rule#20: A sissy will fuck anywhere

Rule#21: Sissies love to plug

Rule#22: Every sissy dreams of being a bimbo

Rule#23: Cum is your reward

Rule#24: You are a tool used to please cock. Every cock.

Rule#25: You prefer Big Black Dick

Rule#26: Sissies love garters and stockings

Rule#27: Sissies love a good gloryhole

Rule#28: A sissy loves the taste is own cum

Rule#29: Woman is superior to sissy

Rule#30: A sissy doesn’t have a boyfriend, a sissy has a master(Daddy)

Rule#31: A sissy doesn’t have a girlfriend, a sissy has a mistress

Rule#32: Sissies bend over

Rule#33: Sissies love heels

Rule#34: Sissies can’t forget to tuck their clitty

Rule#35: A sissy’s ass is always on display

Rule#36: Cute panties are essential

Rule#37: Sissies wear tight leggings to attract men to their ass

Rule#38: A sissy doesn’t neglect the balls

Rule#39: A sissy has no butthole, a sissy has a pussy

Rule#40: A sissy does not jerk her cock. A sissy cums only from getting her ass fucked

Rule#41: A sissy has two holes, both should be put to use

Rule#42: Paint your face to look like a whore

Rule#43: Work out to keep your sexy sissy bod fit

Rule#44: Expose your thong so that they know that its on

Rule#45: A sissy’s body is smooth and shaven all over

Rule#46: A sissy’s body is always for sale

Rule#47: Cum is not to be wasted

Rule#48: Sissies don’t think. Sissies do as they’re told

Rule#49: A sissy’s mouth is not made for talking

Rule#50: Sissies love to be degraded

Rule#51: Big black cock is a delicacy and should be treated as such

Rule#52: Sissies love playtime

Rule#53: Sissies take every inch

Rule#54: Sissies always dress slutty when they go out. So they always get fucked

Rule#55: Panties are only removed for cock

Rule#56: No skirt is too short

Rule#57: Sissies wear bikinis

Rule#58: The only use a sissy has for a condom, is slurping up Daddy’s cum

Rule#59: Wear a black bra, so they know you’re naughty

Rule#60: Sissies fuck outdoors

Rule#61: Pink is to be worn as a badge of sissy pride

Rule#62: Never say no to cock

Rule#63: You’re not a person; you’re a sissy fuck toy

Rule#64: A sissy doesn’t jerk her clitty. She fucks both her holes while rubbing her clitty like a dirty girl

Rule#65: Send pics of yourself to cute boys, let them know you’re a dirty slut

Rule#66: Sissies sit when they pee

Rule#67: Sissies love a nice gang bang

Rule#68: Pink panties alone will not make you a sissy. You must have the body and mind of a true sissy slut

Rule#69: Sissies play with each other

Rule#70: Cum is essential in a sissy’s daily diet

Rule#71: Sissies are whores that don’t earn a thing. Sissies give everything to their Daddy or Mistress

Rule#72: Sissies are property that can be bought or sold

Rule#73: Wear stockings and stilettos

Rule#74: Sissies tuck their clitty into pantyhose

Rule#75: Paint your lips; make them a bright red target for cock

Rule#76: Sissies love Bukkake

Rule#77: Every sissy has a little black dress

Rule#78: Your sissy ass was made to take big dicks

Rule#79: Sissies wear make up to look like perfect little Bimbo Fuck Dolls

Rule#80: Sissies wear sexy lingerie to bed

Rule#81: Sissies love giving road-head

Rule#82: Sissies eat ass

Rule#83: Sissies love to feel the bulge of a hard cock

Rule#84: Sissies always say yes

Rule#85: Always keep eye contact

Rule#86: Grow your hair long so men have something to grab while they pound your ass

Rule#87: Sissies are punished when they misbehave

Rule#88: Sissies don’t mind getting kinky

Rule#89: Strap-on should always be treated as if they were real cocks

Rule#90: A sissy’s legs are always open

Rule#91: A sissy always showers with her daddy

Rule#92: Sissies don’t try to hide their panties; they proudly present them for all to see

Rule#93: A dildo is a sissy’s best friend

Rule#94: A sissy’s pants should always be skin tight

Rule#95: Work your sissy ass, so it can handle being fucked on a daily basis

Rule#96: Sissies wear yoga pants because they know how good their ass looks

Rule#97: Find some sissy friends. Go out and get fucked together

Rule#98: Real women don’t enjoy being groped, but sissies don’t mind at all

Rule#99: All a sissy needs to know is how to please a cock

Rule#100: Be a good girl

Rule#101: A sissy can never have enough shoes

Rule#102: A sissy’s breath always smells like cock

Rule#103: Sissies proudly buy their lingerie in the store

Rule#104: Sissies find a way to dress sexy even when it’s cold

Rule#105: Sissies eat their own cum to remind themselves that they are no longer a man

Rule#106: Sissies love eating pussy only when they get to lap up the Alpha cum dripping from inside

Rule#107: Sissies bounce up and down on real men’s long hard cocks

Rule#108: Sissies love to finger their own asshole

Rule#109: Sissies wear panties when they run their clitty

Rule#110: A sissy always says please and thank you

Rule#111: Sissies read girly magazines

Rule#112: If cum isn’t leaking from your gaping asshole, you’re not done yet

Rule#113: Look cute when you look for cock

Rule#114: Sissies love wearing crotchless panties

Rule#115: Every sissy wants a black daddy

Rule#116: Sissies don’t fuck women, women fuck sissies

Rule#117: Sissies don’t want to be normal girls; sissies want to be bimbo fuck dolls

Rule#118: A sissy needs no help putting on a bra

Rule#119: Wear a tight thong when you plug your boy pussy

Rule#120: Never be afraid of a huge cock, you must worship it as you do every cock

Rule#121: Forget about boxers, sissies wear pretty pink panties

Rule#122: Sissies like it rough

Rule#123: Drop those panties when Daddy says so

Rule#124: Every sissy needs someone to teach them to suck cock

Rule#125: A sissy should never run out of her bras and panties

Rule#126: Wear a crop top, make all the boys stare

Rule#127: Sissies love the feeling of a tight corset hugging their body

Rule#128: Sissies always go out with the intention of getting fucked

Rule#129: A sissy’s ass needs to be trained to take big cocks

Rule#130: Cum dumpster is not an insult it’s your occupation

Rule#131: Sissies get fake tits so they can be fucked in a whole new way

Rule#132: Transform yourself into a perfect bimbo pin-up girl

Rule#133: Desperate for a good fucking? Pick your phone up Sissy, make a booty call

Rule#134: Always treat the balls with extra care, after all, that’s wear your treat is made

Rule#135: Sissies don’t wear lingerie to seduce men; sissies wear lingerie because it makes them feel feminine

Rule#136: Sissies love to feel their big fake tits supported by a tight bra

Rule#137: You can always find a way to practice sucking cock

Rule#138: A sissy is content with the size of her clitty, its small size reminds her that she is not a man

Rule#139: Study real women, take notes

Rule#140: Cum is not to be wiped away and disposed of, it is to be worn with pride

Rule#141: Always look as cute as can be when you go out shopping

Rule#142: When you see cute boys make that booty pop

Rule#143: No cock is too big for a sissy like you

Rule#144: Always be ready for Daddy when he comes home

Rule#145: Your job is to help him with his real job

Rule#146: Every sissy wants to be owned by a big black man with a big black cock

Rule#147: Sissies love to wear matching lingerie

Rule#148: Keep your clitty and boy pussy clean and shaven

Rule#149: A sissy works out like a girl

Rule#150: Sissies don’t get to fuck anyone, sissies get fucked by everyone

[hugsandharrystyles]

Are you wet right now?

Summary: You go on a vacation with your parents and their best friend's family. The only problem is their ridiculously hot son, Harry.

Word Count: 5,000+

Warnings: so much tension, teens being dumb, angst of course

Let me know if you want a part 2 with actual smut :))

You officially hate Harry Styles.

You hate his stupid hair, his stupid green eyes, his stupid hair, and especially his stupid abs.

You don't think from the minute your and his family stepped into the private resort you've seen him with a shirt on. And you get it, it's hot outside, and you're on vacation, but he doesn't even have the decency to put one on at dinner.

Honestly, the whole naked chest thing wouldn't bother you so much if he didn't get so much attention for it. The resort your and his family picked was private, but being a young, hot superstar makes you an easy target. It's almost as if this is the week all families with teenage girls decided to go on vacation.

It's the worst when you'll be goofing around with him like normal, and a group of girls in their bikinis crowd over him, not even sparing you a glance as they shove you out of the way. It's even worse that Harry does nothing about it.

You've known Harry since you were little. Your parents have always been friends, so it was kind of inevitable. You knew from a young age he was going to be something big- with his talent and charisma. You've watched from the sidelines how he's grown and came to stardom.

Though, you and Harry hadn't always been friends. When you were both thirteen, Harry had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was young and childish love, but it was sweet. You were his first girlfriend, and he was your first boyfriend. You even shared your first kisses together. You could never forget it. He was so nervous and shaky, and the kiss was inexperienced, but it was probably the best kiss of your life.

Until you were with Harry at a birthday party where everyone was playing spin the bottle, and Harry landed on Cheryl Taylor. He barely spared you a glance before leaning over and planting your his lips on her bubblegum-pink ones.

You ran out of the house and called your mom to come pick you up. Harry had tried to talk to you for a week, and you avoided him like the plague, which was hard since he was your neighbor. He ended up cornering you at school and apologizing profusely. He explained how he likes Cheryl now and that you were just his best friend. He was so young and so doe-eyed that you had no other option than to forgive him and go back to best friends. That was the start of Harry's everlasting feud with women. In no way was he a womanizer, but he loved sex and didn't have any want for a relationship.

"Y/N, sweetie, did you hear me?" Your mom snaps you out of your moment with her question. You're currently all (besides Harry, God knows where he is and who he's with) lounging at the pool, enjoying the summer breeze and warm sun.

"No, sorry," You answer and turn your head towards her.

"It's okay- said we'll need to head up to our rooms in about an hour to clean up and get ready for dinner. We have reservations at that fancy restaurant we saw when we were driving into town!" Your mom says excitedly, and you smile with her.

"Sounds good," You answer and turn your attention to the romance book in your hands, but before you could get very far, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N! Come in the water with me," You hear Harry's whiny voice call.

"'M good," You answer back, very obviously annoyed. You're still upset about the mob of girls who had literally pushed you to the ground earlier while trying to get closer to Harry. He hadn't even noticed.

"Oh, c'mon, babycakes. You still mad at me?" Harry asks, and you hear him splashing out of the pool. The sound of falling water droplets gets closer until you feel them start to drip onto your bare stomach.

"First, don't ever call me that again. Second, obviously I'm still upset you jerk," You scowl and almost punch him when he takes your book out of your hands, placing it on the table next to you.

"I said I was sorry!" He whines. You hear your mom and Anne laugh beside you.

"I got a bruise, Harry!" You whine back and pout at your forearm, showing him the bruise.

"Oh, shit, I didn't know it was that bad," Harry whispers, so your parents don't hear him curse.

"Yeah," You sigh. "Had to crawl my way out, and you didn't even care," You say dramatically.

"Stop it with that. You know I care about you the most," He assures, and before you can resist, he slots his wet body over yours, making you squeal.

"Ew! Get off me!" You scream, and hear your and his families' laughter.

"No," He whines and shakes his wet hair out. He lays his face in your neck. "I'm sorry, moppet. I wasn't thinking. Never would want you to get hurt."

"It's fine. I don't care. I was just messing with you."

"No, you weren't. Could tell you were upset, and I'm sorry I'm a dick," He says quietly and presses a soft kiss to your neck.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"It's okay, seriously. Just- I don't know. It's fine, you goof." You wish to tell him how you really feel. How much you miss him when he's gone when you probably never cross his mind- the lack of texts proving to be true.

"Know I love you, right?" He asks as he perks his head up and grips your cheeks in his hands, smushing them together. You notice his eyes flicker to your lips but don't think too much about it.

"Yeah," You laugh nervously.

"What's with the hesitation?" He asks and releases his hold on your cheeks, instead cupping your neck, thumbs on your jaw, so he still has a bit of control over your face.

"Nothing- we just don't talk that much anymore. Haven't really since-"

"Harry, would you get off my daughter!" Your dad yells over, semi-joking. You laugh and push at Harry's shoulder. He gets up, but you can tell by his sorrowful facial expression that he's upset about something.

"Hey, what's-" Your cut off by a high pitched voice coming from the side of you.

"Oh my gosh. Are you Harry Styles?" The girl is probably about your age and very pretty. You can't help but sigh in defeat.

"That would be me. What's your name, pretty?" Harry's response feels like a knife to your heart, and you don't think twice before picking your book back up and tuning the conversation out. You do, however, peek your eyes over your book to see Harry walking away with the girl, arm around her shoulder- not even a glance back at you.

It's an hour later when you return to you and Harry's room. You hadn't seen Harry since he walked off with that girl, and you kind of hoped he wouldn't be back for dinner because you just didn't want to see him. Even after all this time, it's as if you can't completely squash your stupid crush on him.

You slide your keycard through the door and walk in, though, nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Harry and the stranger-blonde are laying on his bed, practically grinding against each other in a heavy make out session. Your gasp is loud enough to break them out of their attraction, and you immediately hear them both curse.

"Shit!" Harry yells and pushes the girl off of him. She glares at the side of his face.

"You have a girlfriend?" She asks.

"No, no, she's just a friend."

Ouch.

"Um, I can just grab my things and go," You offer and make your way towards the bathroom to grab your makeup.

"No, Y/N-" Harry starts, but you cut him off.

"Seriously, it's fine. Um- I'll just find somewhere to get ready. You- uh- are obviously busy," You laugh embarrassingly. You quickly grab your things and your clothes and dart towards the door. You feel Harry grab your free wrist before you could make your great escape.

"Y/N, wait." His voice lowers so his guest couldn't hear. She was already mindlessly scrolling on her phone anyway, so it didn't even matter.

"What?" You ask.

"What's- why does this feel so... off?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Obviously it's going to be a little awkward because-"

"No, I mean like- I feel guilty? Like I've just messed everything up," He whispers, defeated.

"I don't know what you mean. I mean it's not like we're... together or anything." The words hurt as they come out of your mouth. "We're- um- we're cool." You put the fakest smile you could muster before walking out of the room. You hear him call your name as you speed-walk down the hallway to your parents' room.

Once you're ready, you and your parents trail downstairs to the resort's foyer where you all patiently wait for Anne and her husband. You're shocked that after waiting for five minutes, you see Harry's parents and Harry stepping out of the elevator and walking towards you guys. You immediately dart your eyes elsewhere as to not catch Harry's gaze.

"Are we ready to go?" Anne asks, and you all agree.

The car ride is insanely awkward. Having not known about what had happened an hour prior, your parents had squished you and Harry in the back by yourselves, and no words have been spoken. It's even more awkward because he's chosen to sit in the middle, so there is no space between the two of you.

"Hey," You hear Harry whisper to you. You hum mindlessly in response, nose in your book. "Can we just- can we talk? Please." The desperation in his voice almost makes you feel bad. Almost.

"Really nothing to talk about," You say quietly, trying to just focus on the words on the page in front of you. "I just need to stop getting my hopes up," You mumble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks.

"Nothing, Harry. Just forget about it. We're good," You assure him, but you know he doesn't believe you. Instead of leaving you alone like you've asked, he takes your book out of your hands (making sure to bookmark your page) before tossing it to the floor of the car. "Hey!" You complain and go to grab it, but he captures your wrists in his hand and holds them to his stomach.

"What are you guys fighting about back there?" Anne and your mother turn around, confusion on their faces.

"He's being a menace," You seethe through your teeth.

"Hey- am not!" He whines. "I'm just trying to talk to her, but she won't get her nose out of her book!"

"You are ridiculous. I mean- first, you-"

"Shush!" Your mother cuts you off. Harry, always playing the victim, pouts and leans his face into your shoulder. "Look at him, Y/N. He misses you. Hand me the book," She demands.

"What?! You can't seriously be taking his side. You don't even know what happened!" You complain, and you scoff as Harry wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you entirely to close to his warm body.

"I don't care! You're both nineteen- I shouldn't be breaking up fights," Your mom says, but you can tell she's trying her best to not laugh.

"Fine," You mumble and hand her the book. Harry's acting like a needy puppy as he basically whimpers in the crook of your neck, his arms still snug around your body. You rest your hands on his arms and dramatically lay your head against the headrest and pout in self pity. That is until you suddenly feel something wet against your neck. "Hey, what are you doing?" You ask and shove at Harry's head. He practically growls, and you can see that he has the strap of your sundress in his mouth, gnawing on it like a child. You're taken back to childhood memories of Harry doing this when he's feeling 'small' or a bit anxious. "Oh my goodness," You sigh and settle to rubbing your hand up and down his back.

"I have to get a picture of this," You hear Anne whisper, and in a second you hear her phone clicking for a photo. The great part of Harry being an international superstar is that you know that picture will never be posted on anyone's Facebook.

After what seems like an eternity if a car ride, you’re finally pulling up to the restaurant. You begrudgingly pull Harry off of you so you could all exit the car and have it taken away by the valet. Harry ducks his head down in an attempt to not be seen and laces his fingers through yours. He's funny if he thinks this sweet act is getting him any tonight.

Your parents inform the hostess of your reservation, and you notice the way her eyes never leave Harry as she walks you to your table. His fingers finally leave yours as he pulls your chair out for you, and you resist the confused look you want to give him and just take the kindness.

It's not even two minutes later when the (very cute) waiter is appearing at your table with a smile shining your way. He asks for your drinks and tells you he'll be back in a minute for your orders, but not before flashing you one more smile.

"Seems like Y/N has an admirer," Anne laughs, and you blush.

"Oh, stop it. He's just being sweet," You mutter.

"He's- He's not sweet. He just smiled," Harry butts in, and you glare at him.

"Yeah, cause no one would ever want to flirt with me," You say, just to him.

"What? No- I didn't mean it like-"

"Okay, here are your drinks." The waiter appears again and this time gets your orders. The way he flirts with you makes you feel seen and wanted. It helps that he's attractive too- of course, no one could be more beautiful than Harry, though.

The night drawls on, and Harry gets weirder and weirder. He's getting increasingly more affectionate and lovey-dovey, and it makes a part of your stomach churn.

It's when you're all about to ask for the bill when your waiter comes out with a small bowl of ice-cream and sets it in front of you.

"Oh, I didn't ask for-"

"It's on the house, lovely," He winks and walks off, leaving you with a prominent blush and whistles sounding from your table.

"My goodness, Y/N," Your mother giggles, and her and Anne turn to gossip about your love life. You smile bashfully and look at Harry, about to rub it in his face that you're the one getting hit on for once, but you can't when you see the pitiful look on his face as he stares down at your ice-cream.

"Oh, what's wrong, bug?" You ask him, pinching his cheek and calling him the childhood nickname that always got him to smile. He grins dopily and leans his forehead on your shoulder to hide his blush. "What? Did you want to share my ice-cream?"

Harry wants nothing more than to tell you that's not what he's upset about, but he's stopped when you push him off and scoop some ice-cream onto your spoon. You hold your hand under the spoon as you direct it towards Harry's mouth, feeding him. He doesn't think he could ever hide the grin of you doing something so domestic with him as if he was your husband.

Suck it, waiter-boy.

You and Harry have just finished your desert when you're getting up and excusing yourself to the washroom. Once you've finished, you exit the restroom and are about to walk back to your table when you feel a gentle hand on your wrist. Your waiter.

"Oh! Hello," You laugh.

"I'm so sorry to be so absurd, but I couldn't live with myself knowing I let you walk out of here without at least trying to take you out on a date," He says bluntly. "It's no secret that I think you're stunning, is it?" He laughs, and you laugh as well.

"Is that so? Don't think I noticed," You play it off with a giggle.

"Can I please give you my number?" He asks, flashing you his best puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, but..."

"Oh no, not a but," He dramatically cries, and you laugh. He's funny and cute. Maybe he's just what you need to get over Harry. "C'mon, we don't have much longer. You're family's already paid, and I'm off the clock, sugar."

"I didn't bring my phone with me! And if I go out to my table to grab it, they'll make a huge scene!" You whine, and he gasps with fake shock.

"What will we ever do?" He jokes, acting as if he's faint.

"If you keep making fun of me, I am going to kick you where the sun doesn't shine," You attempt to threaten, but you can't hold back your laughter.

"Here," He says and grasps your arm in his hand. He reaches into his pocket for a pen and starts writing his number on your arm. "Don't have my phone on me either, so this will have to do. Don't you dare wash your arm on your way back to your table," He jokes, and you laugh.

"Wouldn't dream of it," You say sweetly. "Okay! I have to go. They're going to think I fell in the toilet or something," You say, getting the cute waiter to clutch his stomach in a heavy laugh. Once he gathers himself, you quickly kiss his cheek in goodbye and run off to your table, guarding your arm with your life.

Your family is hardly waiting for you when you return, and you plop yourself back into your seat and pretend to engage in the conversation.

"Hey, what's that on your arm?" You hear Anne's voice drag you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, um- the waiter found me and gave me his number," You mumble bashfully and fail to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"You're blushing!" Your dad has to embarrass you. You're about to reply when a splash of cold liquid makes your sentence get caught in your throat. It's all over your lap and arms, and you try not to cause a scene.

"Whoops!" You hear from beside you, and you see Harry grab a napkin and start to wipe you off. Before you can stop him, he rubs at your arm, smearing the phone number so it's unreadable.

"Harry!" You gasp. Your eyes meet his, and they tell you the truth. "You did that on purpose! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Your mother shushes you as people start to stare, but it goes right over your head.

"What, no- why would I-"

"You did! You've been acting weird the entire night! Do you just not want me to be happy?!" You ask, and when he can't answer, you huff and practically sprint to the doors of the restaurant. You don't make it very far away before there's a hand on your wrist and you're being pulled into a quiet alley- out of sight from people. "Let me go," You protest and try to shake Harry's hands off of you, but they're strong on your shoulders.

"Just listen to me, would'ya?!" He asks, obviously agitated with himself.

"No- Fuck you!" You retort and continue to struggle in his hold. Then, you feel his hands on your face, and ,suddenly, his face is extremely close to yours. He's going to kiss you. He's going to kiss you for the first time since you were both thirteen. It's all you've ever wanted, so why do you push him away? "No, no, no," You tut and push him off of you. "Are you crazy?" You shout.

"Hey! Are you two coming?" Your mom suddenly appears around the corner. You shrug yourself away from Harry and turn to your mom.

"Yeah, we're coming," You say and glare at Harry who is looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. You roll your eyes and trail off behind your mom. You all make it to the car, and there is obvious tension in the air with the scene you created, but you don't care and just plug in your earbuds, turning yourself away from everyone. You can feel Harry's longing stare from beside you, but you don't give him any attention. You almost jump when you feel your phone buzz in your lap- having being so zoned out.

Harry: Talk to me.

Sigh.

You roll your eyes and set your phone on the seat in between you and Harry. Several buzzes come through before you're opening your phone in annoyance.

Harry: I'm sorry.

Harry: Actually, I'm not.

Harry: Wait. I'm sorry about the water thing, but I am not sorry for trying to kiss you.

Harry: You're so cute when you're mad.

Harry: Actually you're cunt all the time.

Harry: Autocorrect. I meant cute.

You: Stop texting me... Cunt.

You see Harry laugh out of the corner of your eye.

Harry: Stop being irresistible, and I would.

You: Ew.

Harry: You love me.

Ouch.

You: That's the problem.

You send the message and then immediately drop your phone, face-down, into your lap and stare out the window next to you.

For the next half-hour, the car was relatively quiet. You were almost ecstatic when you see the familiar hotel come into view. You were the first one to jump out of the car and practically run into the building. You thought you would so lucky as to get a moment of peace by yourself, but that dream is quickly squashed when someone's hand sneaks in between the elevator doors last minute.

"Thanks for waiting up," Harry says sarcastically. You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. The air is stiff as the elevator starts to move. And then, suddenly, it comes to a halt. A very abrupt stop. "What the hell?" Harry says, and immediately after, all the lights, except for one emergency one, shuts off, leaving you two in a very dim light. It was just enough to see each other. It was enough for Harry to see the anxiety on your face.

"Knew I should've taken the stairs- Oh God." You can already feel your breathing becoming uneven.

"Hey, hey, it's okay- we'll be alright," He assures you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. He then presses the emergency call button and begins talking to the hotel staff for about five minutes. They explain that you two might be stuck up there for a few hours.

Great.

In the midst of the craziness, you had resorted to scrunching yourself into one of the corners of the elevator, trying to keep your mentality in check.

"Looks like we'll be in here for a while, moppet," Harry sighs and sits down against the wall opposite of you. You hum in agreement and keep your face pressed into your knees. "Might as well use this time to clear the air, huh?" He asks, and your breath hitches.

"Don't need to talk about anything," You answer simply.

"No?" He asks condescendingly.

"You're a jerk. That's about it," You say, raising your face to finally look at him.

"Oh, I am?"

"Are you just going to ask a question every time I say something, or are you actually going to talk?"

"Explain to me how I'm a jerk, please," He asks, genuinely wanting to know your side.

"I can't," You whisper, hiding your face again.

"Why not?"

Screw it.

"You know what? I'll talk," You decide. "You're not going to like it and will probably think I'm a freak, but I don't even care anymore." You take a deep breath and lift your head.

"Y/N, what are you talking about?" Harry asks, clearly confused.

"You remember when we were thirteen and we dated?" You ask bluntly. He's clearly taken aback.

"Um- well, yeah. We were each other's first kisses," He smiles as if remembering the memory.

"Yeah. And then at a party you went and kissed Cheryl Taylor and totally blew me off. You didn't even look back to see if I was okay! God, I get that we were thirteen, but Harry, I really liked you, and you didn't even care. We went back to best friends, and you acted like nothing happened, but I couldn't forget- I still can't. The way you blow me off when you even catch a glimpse of a girl- it makes me realize you haven't changed since we were thirteen, and I don't think you ever will. You don't text or call when you go on tour. I text, I try to call, so don't you dare ever try to put some weird manly claim on me just because you can. It's not fair that I love you in a way I'll never be able to shake when you can just toss me to the side when it's inconvenient for you."

The end of your speech had the air running cold. Harry was silent, stoic. His eyes were slightly wide and glassy- hands fidgeting as if they didn't belong in his own skin.

"I don't- um, I don't know what to say," Harry whispers after a few minutes of muteness.

"I know. You don't have to say anything. I get it."

"You don't- that's what I'm trying to figure out how to say-"

"Don't. Don't do that," You cut him off. "That's the worst thing you could do right now." Your voice shakes. "Don't you dare try to tell me you 'loved' me out of pity."

"But what if it's true?" He counters.

"Then you have a real strange way of showing it."

That shuts him up for a minute, enough time to let you collect yourself again.

"Look, I know it was a lot to spring on you, so it's probably making you think some things you don't actually feel-"

"Then why would I have gotten so mad at the restaurant? I had no idea about how you felt, so explain that," He counters. You're caught there for a moment.

"I don't know, but obviously your affections aren't very meaningful if you were sucking some other girl's face literally three hours ago."

"Fuck, I know how this looks, but it seriously didn't mean anything. I didn't even know how you felt about me! You can't blame this all on me when you never said anything!" He's starting to get riled up now. Harry's used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and you're not making this easy on him.

"You're such a brat. Stop whining and take responsibility."

"Oh, I'm the brat?! You've been fucking whining this whole trip, and it could've been you I was pounding into the mattress if-"

"I'm whining because I love you!" You yell.

"Well, so do fuckin' I!" He counters back, both of you staring at each other intensely and breathing like you've just run a marathon. Just as he's about to say something, a voice sounds through the elevator's speaker.

"It seems a though the fire department got here much quicker, so you two should be out within the next five minutes!" The awfully chipper lady informs you.

"This isn't fucking over," He practically growls at you as you start to hear the elevator being pried open.

"Oh, until you drop to your knees and beg for my forgiveness, we're not talking."

"Think it'll be the other way around, babe," He answers back slyly, and you know the games have just begun.

[misseviehyde]

INFLUENCED

Bryan sometimes wondered if he should have told his daughter Sarah about his plan to help her with her bullying problem - but by now it was far too late.

It wasn't like there was much of Bryan left anyway. Beckie had seen to that.

It had all started a few weeks ago when Sarah had come home in tears again. She told her Dad that she was being emotionally manipulated and abused by a brat in her class, Beckie.

Beckie wasn't like the other girls. She was... better. She had bigger tits, blonder hair, more expensive clothes and makeup. In short she was a total bully - and like all bullies she enjoyed having a victim to humiliate.

That victim was Sarah. Beckie had correctly identified that the pink haired goth girl would be an easy target. She undermined Sarah at every chance and mocked her for being different.

At first the other girls around them seemed uncomfortable, but none of them said or did anything. Some of them had been friends with Sarah for a long time - but their silence was deafening.

That didn't last long. Beckie had a strange influence on others. Gradually at first, but increasingly rapidly they began to change. They began to dress like Beckie, talk like Beckie - even starting to join in her bullying.

It was like some evil hive mind had taken control of the girls and made them think and act just like Beckie.

They began to get boob jobs and wear tight skirts and tiny tops. They dumped their boyfriends and began to fuck black guys only. High heels and boots replaced comfortable trainers and shoes. Attitudes became troublesome, arrogance grew and bit by bit they became empty souless brats who loved to tease and lead on all the boys

All except Sarah who was left isolated and tormented. Beckie and her goons were now everywhere and Sarah didn't even want to go to college anymore.

That's why Bryan decided to have it out with Beckie. This couldn't go on.

He didn't tell Sarah his plan - not that it was much of a plan. Just go and confront Beckie, get her to leave his daughter alone.

He drove over to the luxurious condo where Beckie and her rich divorced Mom (four husbands) lived. There was a pink Landrover parked on the drive and a giant swimming pool at the back.

Banging on the door Bryan was relieved when Beckie opened it. She was wearing a tiny LA Boutine bikini set and her long blonde hair fell wantonly over her shoulders. It was hard to read her expression thanks to the mirror shades she wore.

"What the fuck do you want?" she yawned boredly examining a long bejewelled manicured nail.

"I want you to leave my daughter Sarah alone!" grunted Bryan in what he hoped was an intimidated way.

Beckie's whole demeanour changed as she realised who he was. Her lips twitched into a naughty smile and her blue eyes twinkled excitedly as she tore off her shades. It wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"Nooooo fucking way! This is so cool. Get in here."

Giggling excitedly, Beckie yanked Bryan into the house. Sliding her small sexy hand into his she lead him inside and he dazedly followed.

A pink fog seemed to instantly descend around Bryan. Rational decisions and thoughts became sluggish and hard. A dreamlike quality now surrounded the day and Bryan found himself going along with his daughters bully.

"What did you say your name was? Bailey?"

"No, Bryan," he croaked weakly.

"I prefer Bailey. Beckie and Bailey sounds a lot hotter right Bailey?"

Bailey blinked. He didn't know why but it made a lot of sense. Yes, Bailey was a much better name.

"So Bailey, does Sarah know you're here?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone."

"Fuck yeah, this is perfect. None of those bitches have quite got what it takes to be my bestie. I was wondering which of them to fully transform, but now you just walked out of the blue and gave me the perfect answer. If no one knows you came here, they'll never find you once we're done."

Bailey blinked. He didn't know what the fuck Beckie was talking about.

"What the hell are you talking a..."

"First rule Bailey. You NEVER interrupt me when I'm talking and you never question me. Whatever I say you go along with, right? That's what besties like you are for! I'm the hot one and you're my sexy little shadow. You don't have any opinions of your own, you just copy mine."

Bailey blinked and his mouth clamped shut. Besties? What the fuck was this demented bitch talking about? Still he should probably do as she said. She probably knew best. In fact Beckie seemed really cool and hot. He bet her opinions were much better than his.

"Second rule is we always dress to impress. I need to get out of this bikini and we need to get you in some decent clothes. Come upstairs with me now."

Bailey followed Beckie up to her bedroom. The pink fog was stronger now. It was like the longer he was in her presence, the easier it was to go along with what she wanted.

"You're obviously not as strong minded as your daughter anyway. The influence doesn't seem to work very well on her. Not that I care so long as it affects everyone else. I'm the best right?"

Bailey just nodded stupidly and said, "Yes Beckie."

"Well you seem very susceptible which is pretty hot. Seeing as you're going to be my bestie I'll tell you about it. I don't know how or why but I was born with a power. I call it the influence. It let's me change reality and people around me. I always get the things that I want eventually. People just change to match my expectations. Those losers at college are all well on the way to being popular girls like me, but it can take time. When I really want something though the influence gets more powerful."

Bailey nodded along, "Wow, that sounds hot Beckie."

"It is hot. It's so fucking hot. It makes me feel like a God. Right now Bailey I've never wanted anything so much as to turn you from that losers nice kind Daddy into my evil, bitchy bestie. Just look at how fast the influence is working. Look down."

Bailey looked down. Whilst he had been talking to Beckie he hadn't noticed how tingly his body had been. He gasped. His male clothes now hung loose and baggy over his body which had shrunk to nearly half the size. He was an inch shorter than Beckie now and his arms and legs seemed stick thin. His tummy was as flat as a washboard and all his body hair was gone.

"Take off those stupid fucking clothes - you look dumb. We need to get you into a new outfit right now.

Bailey didn't object as Beckie helped him out of his clothes. He noticed his skin looked younger. His hands were now more delicate and his feet were tiny. His whole body felt like a dolls. He looked down and gawped at his crotch. His dick was... it was gone!

"What are you staring at Bailey? Haven't you ever seen a pussy before. Kind of weird seeing as you're a girl."

Bailey frowned and she shook her head - but it was hopeless to fight the influence. Of course she was a girl. She had always been a girl.

Grabbing Bailey's hand Beckie pulled her into her bathroom and shoved her in front of the mirror. Bailey gasped at the vision in front of her.

A beautiful girl with small but perfect tits, a perky ass and long dark hair was looking back at her.

"Look how pretty you are Bailey. You're worthy to be my bestie. Now let's get you into a bodystocking and fix that makeup."

Bailey loved feeling Beckie's skillful fingers fix her lipstick, mascara and foundation. "Of course you know how to do all this right?" smirked Beckie. "Show me... you try."

Bailey took the brush from her besties hands and skillfully continued to apply her makeup as if she had done it all her life.

It felt like she was replacing her old personality and thoughts as she applied more makeup. Being feminine felt so good.

"Good girl, you look so hot! Now the third rule is that being a bitch always feels good. From now on you are going to be a bully. Being my bestie means you have to be just as mean and as cruel as I am."

"Yes Beckie, that sounds hot," giggled Bailey as she felt her morals melt away.

"Then say it," gloated Beckie.

"Being a bitch always feels good. I'm cruel and mean and I like it."

As she said the words Bailey felt her nipples get hard and her pussy getting wet.

"And who's the biggest loser we know?" hissed Beckie with evil glee. "Who deserves to get bullied every day?"

"S... Sarah?" guessed Bailey, feeling a flash of guilt that then faded to never return.

"That's right. Doesn't it feel good to know you're better than her? What does she mean to you?"

"N...nothing... she means nothing. I fucking hate her. I want to bully and humiliate her for being such a skank."

Bailey giggled as the words oozed out of her mouth. Yessss this is what she wanted. Wasn't it?

Beckie lifted Bailey back off the bed and walked her to the mirror.

"Very good. Now tell me... who are you?"

"Me? I'm Bailey your bestie and I love being a fucking brat. I hate Sarah and I share all your opinions."

Part of Bailey suddenly rebelled... a bit of her that was shrinking fast. She groaned and gripped her head. "Noooo you can't stop me, this is my body now. I'm Bailey and I love it."

Giggling Beckie slid a long glass dildo into her besties hands. "Don't worry babe, it's just the last part of your old pysche trying to fight back. Make yourself cum and he'll give in forever. My influence is too strong!"

Lying on the bed, Bailey unpopped her lingerie and exposing her tight pussy slowly slid the dildo inside.

"I'm a... unnnnff bitch, I'm a bully I ooooohhh hate Sarah."

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Wet squelches filled the air and the sounds of panting moans as Bailey pleasured her new body and the final barriers to her mind began to break down to Beckie's obscene influence.

"That's it. You're just like me now Bailey. You're a rich, mean, popular slut. You will never escape my influence."

"Yesssss I'm a rich slut and I'm a oooooh fucking bitch. I'm a BIIIIITTTTTCHHHH!"

Bailey screamed and yanked the dildo out as her pussy throbbed and she began to squirt. Her brain went white hot as her new personality and thoughts locked forever.

She was such a bitch and she loved it.

Beckie stroked her hair and giggled. "Don't worry, my influence will give you a new identity. Everyone will falsely remember you've always been my bestie. Well everyone except Sarah. We're going to have so much fun together babe..."

**********

Sarah cried as her Mom tried to comfort her. Bryan had been missing for weeks now and the police couldn't provide any answers. She'd barely slept, barely eaten. No one could find even a trace of him.

Her Mom had taken her out for coffee and they were sat outside in the sunshine when she saw her bullies approaching.

Beckie and Bailey laughed and giggled to each other as they passed, saying something mean. Bailey dropped a note as she passed and despite herself Sarah picked it up.

It was a scrumpled missing note - one of the ones she'd put up everywhere. It showed Bryan and offered a reward for information about his disappearance.

Someone had written in lipstick on the note.

"Your Daddy hates you so he left home. You're a fucking loser."

Sarah felt more tears come as she saw the mean girls laughing at her reaction. In their centre a gloating Beckie smiled approvingly at her protegee Bailey.

She really was a great influence on the bitch...

The End

[ofstoriesandstardust]

the one with the bathing suit (b.r.b.)

a/n: yeah.... i don't got an explanation. takes place in the flight risk universe

summary: The time Bradley saw Sunshine in a bathing suit and was allowed to do something about it.

warnings: suggestive themes/comments, bathing suits (because that's a warning in and of itself), swearing, brief mentions of insecurities, brief mention of body sizes, future Bradley and Sunshine, this is my nod to all my fellow vanderpump rules watchers, unedited

Bradley's hand slides into your own as the two of you enter the Target, the cool air hitting you as you enter the store. You slide the sunglasses up to sit atop of your head as you pause, figuring out where the Customer Service desk is.

"Thanks for coming with me." You say as you spot it, tugging Bradley along.

He hummed. "No problem, my love. Shame the pants didn't fit."

You rolled your eyes at the memory of trying them on for him after an impromptu shopping trip with Amelia the other day. The two of you'd bickered about whether or not you should keep them, the pants a hair too small to be comfortable.

Bradley, however, had appreciated how they had made your ass look.

("You say that about everything I wear." You'd said with a scoff. He'd only been able to offer you that cheshire grin of his.)

You let your eyes wander as the two of you wait in line. Target had just put out their selection bathing suits for the summer and you were somehow always surprised by the fact that they continuously got cuter every year.

Bradley squeezed your hand when he caught on to where you were looking. "I think you need a new suit, my love."

You roll your eyes as you step forward in line. "And where in the world would I wear it?"

"I think you forget you live in a beach town now, Sunshine. You'd get good use out of it."

You roll your eyes again as you step up to the desk. "You just want to see me in a bikini."

Bradley doesn't deny the point as the girl working the counter begins to process the return. You thank her as she returns the money to the card and exit the area, headed for the door. Bradley's hand in your own stops you, tugging you over to the bathing suit area.

"B..." You mutter, eyeing the bikinis anxiously. "I don't need to make myself insecure on purpose today."

"I'm looking for me, I don't know what you're talking about." He says, bypassing the bikinis into the much smaller one-piece section.

You snort as your eyes fall on a rosey-pink colored one-piece. "That's cute." You comment, rifling through the sizes. "Too bad they don't have one in my size."

"This one might fit." He says, pulling it from the rack.

You eye it nervously. It was adorable, with an open back and straps that were to die for. "There is no way in hell that'll hold up my boobs." You blurt out.

He grins. "Sure it could."

You shake your head, taking it from his hands and putting it back on the rack. "I hate bathing suits. Make me so insecure about my thighs."

He clears his throat. "Respectfully, my love, no one is looking at your thighs when you are wearing a bathing suit." His eyes roam over your body. "Much more distracting parts of you to look at." You shoot him a look, even as you feel your cheeks warm.

"We need toilet paper."

-

"I have a present." Bradley announces as he enters the house. "You're watching the new part of the reunion without me?! You said you'd wait!"

Your eyes flicker to the paused screen, Andy Cohen in the middle of proclaiming "My cards!"

"'M rewatching last week's episode."

Bradley's shoulders visibly deflate at the explanation, relieved you hadn't gone ahead and watched the reunion episodes about the Scandoval that had rocked the nation without him.

You smile, pushing yourself up on the couch. "Whatcha got?"

"I bought that bathing suit you were looking at this weekend."

Your face falls. "What?"

He holds his hands out, quick to soothe you. "You don't have to keep it if you don't like it." He rushes out. "But you didn't try it on, and it was cute, and you've been saying you needed a new suit anyways."

You sigh, pushing yourself off the couch and grabbing the Target bag from his hands. "I'll try it on." You say as you approach the stairs to go up to the bathroom. "But I really doubt it'll fit."

He follows you closely, sitting on the edge of the bed as you disappear into the bathroom to try it on. You take a deep breath, shedding your clothing to pull the material over your body.

You take another deep breath, nervously opening your eyes as you turn back to the mirror.

You... You don't hate it.

You tug at the straps, adjusting the top.

You actually really don't hate it.

The material is comfortable and does surprisingly fit. Your eyes flit nervously over your chest, fighting the urge to cover it up.

"You wanna see?" You call out.

"Obviously."

You take a calming breath, unlocking the bathroom door, slipping into the bedroom.

Bradley's eyes go wide as his jaw falls open. You roll your eyes, huffing out a nervous laugh. "Okay, B, don't gotta gawk."

He shakes his head. "Nuh-uh, 'm gonna."

You feel your cheeks warm as you struggle to look at him. "'S just a bathing suit. You've seen me in those before."

"Yeah, and this is the first time I actually get to do something about it. Sunshine, you look so fucking good." He says, his eyes still roaming your body. "Holy fuck, and I spent years not getting to appreciate you in one of these things. What the fuck was I thinking?"

You let out another nervous laugh, looking back down at your feet. You hadn't even remembered to take your socks off before trying the suit on, not even thinking Bradley would see the piece on you.

"How do you feel about it?" He asks after a minute, his voice much softer.

You shrug, finally raising your head to meet his gaze. "I don't... hate it."

He grins. "Yeah?"

You shrug, taking another step closer towards him. He reaches out for you, hands falling to your waist.

"I've always loved the way you look in a bathing suit Sunshine, but fuck." He says, gaze planting right on your chest.

You duck your head, cheeks growing even warmer. "Not always."

He tilts his head in disagreement, clearly remembering the lake day from your camping trip in college.

("Careful now, Bradshaw." Eli had said to him. "You spend too much longer appreciating her tits in that suit and you're gonna get punched in the mouth.")

"You gonna keep it?" He says, pulling you onto his lap.

You nod, letting out a breathe. "Yeah, I think so."

He grins, shuffling the two of you back further on the bed. "Perfect." He says, his hand gliding down your body. One plants itself firmly on your ass while the other makes it's way back up towards the straps. "Because now I get to do this," He says, tugging at the straps, letting it unravel. "Without worrying about having to return it."

He captures you in a searing kiss, hands coming up to push the material off of your body.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Hi hi! I’d love to know more about Asset Codename: Bricks! Feel free to elaborate on anything you want, I’ve literally been obsessed with this wip since I first read it!

Ah, Bricks! My darling and my delight! Veronica "Bricks" Mason is a CIA asset, specializing in infiltration. Didn't she say her name was Ericka in the WIP Wednesday? Yes! Because I was still working out how I want her to exist in the universe lol.

Have an alternate intro!

CW: Objectification, canon-compliant violence

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap mutters, looking down the sight.

The big house on the private island is picture perfect, right out of a vacation guide. Two stories, floor to ceiling windows, and an absolute goddess of a woman lounging by the pool. Soap clocks one guard on the edge of the patio facing out, makes sure there’s no one else, and looks back at her.

Her dark skin glistens in the sun, and her curly hair shines. The tiny bikini she wears barely covers anything, bright pink as it is. He can’t exactly see through her sunglasses, but he gets the impression that her eyes are closed. Which is good, because once they break the tree line, she’ll have a clear view of them.

“Got a fuckin’ civilian,” he reports.

Price makes an exasperated sound. “Civilian?”

“Hen by the pool,” he confirms. “…No weapons.”

“How can you-” Gaz’s voice cuts off as he sucks in a breath. “No, I see her. Goddamn.”

Ghost’s voice rumbles, “Hold until she’s clear.”

Gaz mutters, “Why do the baddies always end up with evil sons of bitches?”

“Money,” Simon and Price answer at once. Price continues, “Nice view, though.”

“Cannae complain about the delay,” Soap says, letting himself take a long moment to admire her breasts. “Wouldnae mind a chance wit’ a bird like her.”

“Doubt you could 'andle ‘er,” Ghost chuckles.

“Away wit ye,” Soap grumbles.

All of them go silent when the woman stretches her arms above her head and sits up to grab her drink from a little table. And then she stands and walks over to the guard. He turns to her when he hears her voice, and walks to meet her at the corner of the house.

Soap will not admit that staring at the way her arse swallows the thong bikini is why he misses what happens next. One moment the woman is sipping her drink and smiling, and the next the man’s silenced gun is in her hand and his body topples into the hedges.

“What the fuck?” Gaz hisses.

And then she places the gun and her drink on the bar by the sliding patio door. She opens it, stands in the doorway with her back to the pool, and holds up a closed fist. She gestures: four fingers to the right, three to the left. Then she steps inside, turns left, and strolls past the floor to ceiling windows until she’s out of sight.

The door is left open.

“Let’s move,” Price growls.

Clearing the house is easy. Ghost and Gaz head right, Soap and Price follow the woman and run into two guards, easily dispatched. They find a third with a neat bullet hole between his eyes, on his back on another small patio.

And then they hear a woman’s shriek of terror.

Heart racing, Soap takes point as they ascend the stairs. In his ear, Ghost confirms that he and Gaz have dispatched four guards and are also making their way up. They clear two empty rooms, then hear a frantic voice.

“I don’t know,” a woman sobs. “I was by the pool, I just wanted another drink! And then I turned the corner and Ivan! Vanya was-! He’s-!” The voice is wracked by sobs.

“Fuck.” And that’s the target’s voice, Tarasovich. He snarls something in Russian, then reverts to English. “We need to get to the car, now.”

“Don’t leave me,” the woman’s voice cries, “Please, oh god what are we going to do?”

“To the car, you stupid woman,” the Russian snaps. “I will have Sasha call the pilot, we need to-”

Ghost and Gaz appear at the other end of the hall as Tarasovich chokes on his next words. There’s a scuffle, and a thud. At Price’s tap on the shoulder, Soap breaches the door, gun raised.

He can’t help but curse as he circles left and Price goes right, guns trained on where the woman has Tarasovich’s in a choke hold from the back. The man is bright red and struggling, but her legs lock his arms to his sides, ankles crossed over his solar plexus as his legs kick wildly.

Soap is dimly aware of Ghost and Gaz filing in, guns trained on the pair as he runs out of air and his struggles slow. His arms twitch, and then his legs kick once, twice. And he slowly goes limp.

“Rope’s in the top drawer on the left,” the woman huffs, not letting go. Price opens a drawer and pulls out a neatly wrapped bundle of thick, soft-looking, braided, red rope. He approaches the woman, and she dumps Tarasovich to the side. She stands and adjusts her bikini as he ties the man’s legs together and his hands behind his back.

When Price stands, she grins. “Hey there, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Bricks,” Price says, his own grin splitting his face as he pulls her in by her hips. Her arms settle around his neck and she smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Laswell didn’t tell us you were our contact.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she laughs. “And who can turn down a trip to a private island?”

On the floor, the Russian grunts and starts twitching awake. Bricks steps over him and saunters over to Ghost.

“Hello, handsome,” she purrs.

Soap tries not to let his jaw hang open like a muppet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Ghost sounds affectionate when he answers. “’ave fun skippin’ around in the buff, then?”

“You like it?” She turns in a little circle, wiggles her ass at him. “I know you prefer orange, but it felt like a pink kind of day.”

“Like your arse in and out of anythin’, lovie,” Ghost rumbles, pulling her close with one arm and lifting his mask up over his nose. “Give us a kiss.”

Soap looks to Gaz for confirmation that this is really happening. The other man looks just as floored as their lieutenant and this Bricks woman share the kind of kiss that reminds him of just how almost naked she is. Soap clears his throat and turns away.

[pronoun-fucker]

“I’m looking at a picture of my naked body, leaning against a hotel balcony in Thailand. My denim bikini has been replaced with exposed, pale pink nipples – and a smooth, hairless crotch. I zoom in on the image, attempting to gauge what, if anything, could reveal the truth behind it. There’s the slight pixilation around part of my waist, but that could be easily fixed with amateur Photoshopping. And that’s all.

Although the image isn’t exactly what I see staring back at me in the mirror in real life, it’s not a million miles away either. And hauntingly, it would take just two clicks of a button for someone to attach it to an email, post it on Twitter or mass distribute it to all of my contacts. Or upload it onto a porn site, leaving me spending the rest of my life fearful that every new person I meet has seen me naked. Except they wouldn’t have. Not really. Because this image, despite looking realistic, is a fake. And all it took to create was an easily discovered automated bot, a standard holiday snap and £5.

This image is a deepfake – and part of a rapidly growing market. Basically, AI technology (which is getting more accessible by the day) can take any image and morph it into something else. Remember the alternative ‘Queen’s Christmas message’ broadcast on Channel 4, that saw ‘Her Majesty’ perform a stunning TikTok dance? A deepfake. Those eerily realistic videos of ‘Tom Cruise’ that went viral last February? Deepfakes. That ‘gender swap’ app we all downloaded for a week during lockdown? You’ve guessed it: a low-fi form of deepfaking.

Yet, despite their prevalence, the term ‘deepfake’ (and its murky underworld) is still relatively unknown. Only 39% of Cosmopolitan readers said they knew the word ‘deepfake’ during our research (it’s derived from a combination of ‘deep learning’ – the type of AI programming used – and ‘fake’). Explained crudely, the tech behind deepfakes, Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs), is a two-part model: there’s a generator (which creates the content after studying similar images, audio, or videos) and the discriminator (which checks if the new content passes as legit). Think of it as a teenager forging a fake ID and trying to get it by a bouncer; if rejected, the harder the teen works on the forgery. GANs have been praised for making incredible developments in film, healthcare and technology (driverless cars rely on it) – but sadly, in reality it’s more likely to be used for bad than good.

Research conducted in 2018 by fraud detection company Sensity AI found that over 90% of all deepfakes online are non-consensual pornographic clips targeting women – and predicted that the number would double every six months. Fast forward four years and that prophecy has come true and then some. There are over 57 million hits for ‘deepfake porn’ on Google alone [at the time of writing]. Search interest has increased 31% in the past year and shows no signs of slowing. Does this mean we’ve lost control already? And, if so, what can be done to stop it?

WHO’S THE TARGET?

Five years ago, in late 2017, something insidious was brewing in the darker depths of popular chatrooms. Reddit users began violating celebrities on a mass scale, by using deepfake software to blend run-of-the-mill red-carpet images or social media posts into pornography. Users would share their methods for making the sexual material, they’d take requests (justifying abusing public figures as being ‘better than wanking off to their real leaked nudes’) and would signpost one another to new uploads. This novel stream of porn delighted that particular corner of the internet, as it marvelled at just how realistic the videos were (thanks to there being a plethora of media of their chosen celebrity available for the software to study).

That was until internet bosses, from Reddit to Twitter to Pornhub, came together and banned deepfakes in February 2018, vowing to quickly remove any that might sneak through the net and make it onto their sites – largely because (valid) concerns had been raised that politically motivated deepfake videos were also doing the rounds. Clips of politicians apparently urging violence, or ‘saying’ things that could harm their prospects, had been red flagged. Despite deepfake porn outnumbering videos of political figures by the millions, clamping down on that aspect of the tech was merely a happy by-product.

But it wasn’t enough; threads were renamed, creators migrated to different parts of the internet and influencers were increasingly targeted alongside A-listers. Quickly, the number of followers these women needed to be deemed ‘fair game’ dropped, too.

Fast forward to today, and a leading site specifically created to house deepfake celebrity porn sees over 13 million hits every month (that’s more than double the population of Scotland). It has performative rules displayed claiming to not allow requests for ‘normal’ people to be deepfaked, but the chatrooms are still full of guidance on how to DIY the tech yourself and people taking custom requests. Disturbingly, the most commonly deepfaked celebrities are ones who all found fame at a young age which begs another stomach-twisting question here: when talking about deepfakes, are we also talking about the creation of child pornography?

It was through chatrooms like this, that I discovered the £5 bot that created the scarily realistic nude of myself. You can send a photograph of anyone, ideally in a bikini or underwear, and it’ll ‘nudify’ it in minutes. The freebie version of the bot is not all that realistic. Nipples appear on arms, lines wobble. But the paid for version is often uncomfortably accurate. The bot has been so well trained to strip down the female body that when I sent across a photo of my boyfriend (with his consent), it superimposed an unnervingly realistic vulva.

But how easy is it to go a step further? And how blurred are the ethics when it comes to ‘celebrities vs normal people’ (both of which are a violation)? In a bid to find out, I went undercover online, posing as a man looking to “have a girl from work deepfaked into some porn”. In no time at all I meet BuggedBunny*, a custom deepfake porn creator who advertises his services on various chatroom threads – and who explicitly tells me he prefers making videos using ‘real’ women.

When I ask for proof of his skills, he sends me a photo of a woman in her mid-twenties. She has chocolate-brown hair, shy eyes and in the image, is clearly doing bridesmaid duties. BuggedBunny then tells me he edited this picture into two pornographic videos.

He emails me a link to the videos via Dropbox: in one The Bridesmaid is seemingly (albeit with glitches) being gang-banged, in another ‘she’ is performing oral sex. Although you can tell the videos are falsified, it’s startling to see what can be created from just one easily obtained image. When BuggedBunny requests I send images of the girl I want him to deepfake – I respond with clothed photos of myself and he immediately replies: “Damn, I’d facial her haha!” (ick) and asks for a one-off payment of $45. In exchange, he promises to make as many photos and videos as I like. He even asks what porn I’d prefer. When I reply, “Can we get her being done from behind?” he says, “I’ve got tonnes of videos we can use for that, I got you man.”

I think about The Bridesmaid, wondering if she has any idea that somebody wanted to see her edited into pornographic scenes. Is it better to be ignorant? Was it done to humiliate her, for blackmailing purposes, or for plain sexual gratification? And what about the adult performers in the original video, have they got any idea their work is being misappropriated in this way?

It appears these men (some of whom may just be teenagers: when I queried BuggedBunny about the app he wanted me to transfer money via, he said, “It’s legit! My dad uses it all the time”) – those creating and requesting deepfake porn – live in an online world where their actions have no real-world consequences. But they do. How can we get them to see that?

REAL-LIFE FAKE PORN

One quiet winter afternoon, while her son was at nursery, 36-year-old Helen Mort, a poet and writer from South Yorkshire, was surprised when the doorbell rang. It was the middle of a lockdown; she wasn’t expecting visitors or parcels. When Helen opened the door, there stood a male acquaintance – looking worried. “I thought someone had died,” she explains. But what came next was news she could never have anticipated. He asked to come in.

“I was on a porn website earlier and I saw… pictures of you on there,” the man said solemnly, as they sat down. “And it looks as though they’ve been online for years. Your name is listed, too.”

Initially, she was confused; the words ‘revenge porn’ (when naked pictures or videos are shared without consent) sprang to mind. But Helen had never taken a naked photo before, let alone sent one to another person who’d be callous enough to leak it. So, surely, there was no possible way it could be her?

“That was the day I learned what a ‘deepfake’ is,” Helen tells me. One of her misappropriated images had been taken while she was pregnant. In another, somebody had even added her tattoo to the body her face had been grafted onto.

Despite the images being fake, that didn’t lessen the profound impact their existence had on Helen’s life. “Your initial response is of shame and fear. I didn't want to leave the house. I remember walking down the street, not able to meet anyone’s eyes, convinced everyone had seen it. You feel very, very exposed. The anger hadn't kicked in yet.”

Nobody was ever caught. Helen was left to wrestle with the aftereffects alone. “I retreated into myself for months. I’m still on a higher dose of antidepressants than I was before it all happened.” After reporting what had happened to the police, who were initially supportive, Helen’s case was dropped. The anonymous person who created the deepfake porn had never messaged her directly, removing any possible grounds for harassment or intention to cause distress.

Eventually she found power in writing a poem detailing her experience and starting a petition calling for reformed laws around image-based abuse; it’s incredibly difficult to prosecute someone for deepfaking on a sexual assault basis (even though that’s what it is: a digital sexual assault). You’re more likely to see success with a claim for defamation or infringement of privacy, or image rights.

Unlike Helen, in one rare case 32-year-old Dina Mouhandes from Brighton was able to unearth the man who uploaded doctored images of her onto a porn site back in 2015. “Some were obviously fake, showing me with gigantic breasts and a stuck-on head, others could’ve been mistaken as real. Either way, it was humiliating,” she reflects. “And horrible, you wonder why someone would do something like that to you? Even if they’re not real photos, or realistic, it’s about making somebody feel uncomfortable. It’s invasive.”

Dina, like Helen, was alerted to what had happened by a friend who’d been watching porn. Initially, she says she laughed, as some images were so poorly edited. “But then I thought ‘What if somebody sees them and thinks I’ve agreed to having them made?’ My name was included on the site too.” Dina then looked at the profile of the person who’d uploaded them and realised an ex-colleague had been targeted too. “I figured out it was a guy we’d both worked with, I really didn’t want to believe it was him.”

In Dina’s case, the police took things seriously at first and visited the perpetrator in person, but later their communication dropped off – she has no idea if he was ever prosecuted, but is doubtful. The images were, at least, taken down. “Apparently he broke down and asked for help with his mental health,” Dina says. “I felt guilty about it, but knew I had to report what had happened. I still fear he could do it again and now that deepfake technology is so much more accessible, I worry it could happen to anyone.”

And that’s the crux of it. It could happen to any of us – and we likely wouldn’t even know about it, unless, like Dina and Helen, somebody stumbled across it and spoke out. Or, like 25-year-old Northern Irish politician Cara Hunter, who earlier this year was targeted in a similarly degrading sexual way. A pornographic video, in which an actor with similar hair, but whose face wasn’t shown, was distributed thousands of times – alongside real photos of Cara in a bikini – via WhatsApp. It all played out during the run-up to an election, so although Cara isn’t sure who started spreading the video and telling people it was her in it, it was presumably politically motivated.

“It’s tactics like this, and deepfake porn, that could scare the best and brightest women from coming into the field,” she says, adding that telling her dad what had happened was one of the worst moments of her life. “I was even stopped in the street by men and asked for oral sex and received comments like ‘naughty girl’ on Instagram – then you click the profiles of the people who’ve posted, and they’ve got families, kids. It’s objectification and trying to humiliate you out of your position by using sexuality as a weapon. A reputation can be ruined instantly.”

Cara adds that the worst thing is ‘everyone has a phone’ and yet laws dictate that while a person can’t harm you in public, they can legally ‘try to ruin your life online’. “A lie can get halfway around the world before the truth has even got its shoes on.”

Is it any wonder, then, that 83% of Cosmopolitan readers have said deepfake porn worries them, with 42% adding that they’re now rethinking what they post on social media? But this can’t be the solution - that, once again, women are finding themselves reworking their lives, in the hopes of stopping men from committing crimes.

Yet, we can’t just close our eyes and hope it all goes away either. The deepfake porn genie is well and truly out of the bottle (it’s also a symptom of a wider problem: Europol experts estimate that by 2026, 90% of all media we consume may be synthetically generated). Nearly one in every 20 Cosmopolitan readers said they, or someone they know, has been edited into a false sexual scenario. But what is the answer? It's hard for sites to monitor deepfakes – and even when images are promptly removed, there’s still every chance they’ve been screen grabbed and shared elsewhere.

When asked, Reddit told Cosmopolitan: "We have clear policies that prohibit sharing intimate or explicit media of a person created or posted without their permission. We will continue to remove content that violates our policies and take action against the users and communities that engage in this behaviour."

Speaking to leading deepfake expert, Henry Adjer, about how we can protect ourselves – and what needs to change – is eye-opening. “I’ve rarely seen male celebrities targeted and if they are, it’s usually by the gay community. I’d estimate tens of millions of women are deepfake porn victims at this stage.” He adds that sex, trust and technology are only set to become further intertwined, referencing the fact that virtual reality brothels now exist. “The best we can do is try to drive this type of behaviour into more obscure corners of the internet, to stop people – especially children and teenagers – from stumbling across it.”

Currently, UK law says that making deepfake porn isn’t an offence (although in Scotland distributing it may be seen as illegal, depending on intention), but companies are told to remove such material (if there’s an individual victim) when flagged, otherwise they may face a punishment from Ofcom. But the internet is a big place, and it’s virtually impossible to police. This year, the Online Safety Bill is being worked on by the Law Commission, who want deepfake porn recognised as a crime – but there’s a long way to go with a) getting that law legislated and b) ensuring it’s enforced.

Until then, we need a combination of investment and effort from tech companies to prevent and identify deepfakes, alongside those (hopefully future) tougher laws. But even that won’t wave a magic wand and fix everything. Despite spending hours online every day, as a society we still tend to think of ‘online’ and ‘offline’ as two separate worlds – but they aren’t. ‘Online’ our morals can run fast and loose, as crimes often go by unchecked, and while the ‘real world’ may have laws in place that, to some degree, do protect us, we still need a radical overhaul when it comes to how society views the female body.

Deepfake porn is a bitter nail in the coffin of equality and having control over your own image; even if you’ve never taken a nude in your life (which, by the way, you should be free to do without fear of it being leaked or hacked) you can still be targeted and have sexuality used against you. Isn’t it time we focus on truly Photoshopping out that narrative as a whole?”

Link | Archived Link

[loz-furbies]

Hyrule Warriors Zelda

(While the characters have some dialogue during gameplay, this is based on just the cutscenes because I'm not replaying the whole game for this)

Design

I’m not a fan of HW Zelda’s face, while Zelda in all her incarnations has a rather generic anime pretty girl face, for some reason this one feels bland and barbie-like to me. And in general the aesthetic this time is a lot more fanservicey than usual, with the bikini armour and mini shorts. Which I guess is in line with the overall HW character design but I don’t have to like it. Even more than the bikini breastplate I’m bothered by the fact that her shoulder armour doesn’t seem to be properly attached to anything.

That aside I think this works well as a more action oriented Zelda design, with all the extra armour, while it retains her well known pink/purplish colour palette and the Hyrule crest. I also like her hairstyle with the little weight at the end of the braid.

Like most of the other characters, Zelda also gets unlockable alternate skins, some change her to look like the other Zeldas (and Ilia for some reason) in the franchise, while others are palette swaps of her HW look. So they aren't particularly interesting design-wise, but still a fun gameplay addition regardless.

Sheik again has a perfectly serviceable mysterious ninja design. The scarf doesn't look as awkward and I like the addition of the long braid.

I'm a huge fan of how the weapons in HW get progressively more ornate and impractical, and Zelda's lvl 3 rapier is exactly the type of magical girl weapon I'm into.

Character

Hyrule Warriors Zelda is a mature and competent leader, who also joins the battles in the front lines. Unfortunately there's not much else to her, like sure she's the nice and polite princess again, but she doesn't get that many interesting character moments and a lot of the story is just spent going through the plot.

As Sheik she has the same issue as in OoT, in that she doesn't have in common with her regular self. So Sheik's inclusion does feel a bit like waste and I would rather that they spent that time developing even one persona properly.

I have some issues with how women are depicted in this game, in that at times they feel sort of overly cutesy and infantilised and made specifically to be waifus. Like giggling a lot, doing specific kind of cute poses, staring lovingly at the camera in victory animations and stuff like that. It's not a huge problem with Zelda (or Sheik) and more prominent in characters like Lana or Linkle, but even with Zelda there is this feeling that the target audience is the kind who spends hundreds on bikini DLC.

Role in the story

For the first time in this review series, Zelda isn't kidnapped or cursed at any point of the game so good for her for that! She is a playable character and uses a rapier to fight, which ought to fill the needs of those who want a badass combat Zelda. Though I feel that is less meaningful in this game, since you can level up Agitha to lvl 100 and destroy all enemies as her.

However Zelda not being the target of a rescue mission does make her less important to the story though, since there's not much that replaces that. This is more about the game's character writing in general and not a flaw for Zelda in specific, but for the most part the characters just go through the motions. The story starts with Zelda having a prophetic dream that doesn't amount to much, and in between chapters the narrator tells how Zelda leads her troops to new battles, but I don't get much out of her as a character from that. She has a similar role to Link in that Ganondorf is after the Triforce that is in her possession, and in the grand finale she does some Triforce magic as a group, but otherwise doesn't stand out or do any interesting character driven actions.

Sheik's inclusion in the story feels incredibly superfluous and just there to check the box of having her as a playable character. Zelda disappears after chapter 1 and the beginning of the game is spent looking for her, even when she reappears and joins the group as Sheik in chapter 2. When her disguise is eventually busted, the whole thing is brushed aside in like one sentence of how she had to hide her identity from her enemies for... some reason. This is definitely a "don't think too hard about it" situation and it's better if you just roll with it and accept that since this is a multiverse crossover game, they just need to come up with ways to bring the characters from different games together and it's just easier to get done with it as fast as possible. Though the Sheik reveal wasn't as fast as possible and we spent several chapters looking for Zelda, which I think was a waste of the player's time, since this was clearly marketed to existing Zelda fans so many probably were already familiar with the Sheik thing. Story-wise the most we get out of Zelda's disappearance is some character moments from Impa and enemy-disguised-as-Zelda doing villainy things for such a short time that it barely warrants a mention.

Gameplay-wise her rapier moveset is alright and one of my more commonly used characters, but does feel a little flighty. Now with the new LoZ game on the horizon there has been talk of if it's problematic if Zelda doesn't get to have a sword, or is it problematic to think that a girl can't be a hero if she doesn't use one, and this game's solution of giving her a dainty rapier with pink decorations is somewhat of a compromise. Her alt weapons, the baton and dominion rod, are more traditionally princessy options though I don't use them much since they feel a bit slow or hard to control. And Sheik of course has an agility-based moveset and is therefore highly useful in the "don't get hit" missions.

Relationships

Zelda and Link's potential romantic relationship is at the core of this game's plot, but the whole thing falls flat when it's not developed at all. The story is about a sorceress who split in half, and both halves (the villain Cia and the new ally Lana) are in love with Link, and struggle with the fact that he is "soul bound" to Zelda. So a love triangle (or square) story then huh? Except there is practically nothing between Zelda and Link so Cia and Lana's drama feels so out of proportion.

Zelda and Link don't know each other before the story starts and only see each other for the first time when Zelda inspects her troops' training session from afar. Then she disappears before they get any development, and Link has nothing to do with Sheik either. But even once Zelda is back as herself, they just don't share any meaningful scenes together. Link doesn't talk, but it doesn't make much difference since Zelda doesn't have anything interesting or personal to say to him anyway, they don't show interest in each other beyond rudimentary plot stuff, and there aren't even any basic "they are staring intently at each other" moments after the first one in the training grounds when they hadn't even met yet. Zelda isn't even the one to give Link his green tunic, nor does she take any part in the one character moment Link has when he lets the power of the Master Sword go to his head and needs to be bailed out.

The only actual character moment between them that I can think of is when Zelda compliments Link on his courage and says she believes in him, which is absolutely not enough when the possibility of them becoming a couple is the main driver of the plot (or I mean Ganondorf is ultimately behind everything doing his usual business and he doesn't care, but Cia is the unique villain of this game). The scene where Lana admits defeat and bows out of the competition for Link's love is so nothing because neither Zelda and Link are aware at all that they're even players in this. Like go talk to him girl, he is clearly available!

In the final scene of the main story Link places the Master Sword to its pedestal to seal the remaining darkness, and Zelda joins him to help push it to the ground. Which also doesn't feel like a "we made it to this point together!" moment due to the lack of development, but their fingers do touch during it so if you're desperate enough, that's a sort of hand holding moment.

Despite being a rival in this supposed love triangle, Lana and Zelda don't have any character moments together. Thus Impa as the devoted body guard is the only other relationship Zelda has, and even that doesn't have much else to it than this description of Impa. But I'd say you're still better off shipping Zelda with her, because they do know and trust each other already in the beginning, and at least one of them is passionate about the relationship. And Impa and Sheik have some sparking chemistry when Impa tries to figure out what Sheik's deal is.

[callmewrinkles3]

Deuxmoi, October 2018 - March 2023

October 2018

Spotted: This curly haired driver was trying to be discreet in Austin but failed miserably. It might have worked if he didn’t have a bright pink cowboy hat on. I hope the brunette who gave it to him knows the cowboy hat rule!

April 2019 

Spotted: Could have sworn I saw Daniel Ricciardo at Coachella weekend two with a short brunette. When I looked again I wasn’t sure, but they were making out and happy.

August 2019

Spotted: The breakout Netflix driver on a family Disney trip. His “friend” according to the show had his nephew on her hip, and they all had matching mouse ears. He couldn’t stop putting an arm around her shoulder or having his hand at her back. Too cute.

Spotted: First time submission and it’s a Big One. In a dive bar in Vegas and Daniel Ricciardo walked in with his girlfriend/assistant/whatever she is but she’s cute. Took a booth at the back and they ordered beers and shots, flirting constantly. Once the dancing started they were on the floor and his hands were ALL OVER HER. Got a sneaky photo too.

April 2020

Spotted: Was at an Optus event before the now cancelled Australian Grand Prix (sadness) and Daniel Ricciardo was guest of honour. The brunette he’s always photographed with was there too, they are NOT just friends. His hand was around her waist and he was making sure her drink was always full. Plus I spotted her talking with some of the bigwigs from Optus, Daniel was watching her with heart eyes all the time.

August 2020

Name: Francophone 

Email: neverorange@gmail.com 

Subject: Breaking the rules? 

Message: Ever since this paddock playboy joined his latest team he’s had a pass available for his alleged best friend. Thanks to the pandemic rules it’s staff only, and she’s been upgraded to assistant. Seems like a way to get his fuckbuddy to work with him. 

June 2021

Name: Mediterranean Marvel

Email: yachtgirls@gmail.com

Subject: Unexpected attendee

Message: Walking past the marina in Monaco and spotted Charles LeClerc and Daniel Ricciardo on Charles’ yacht. Charles girlfriend was there, Ricciardo had his arm around a tattooed brunette in a skimpy bikini. Didn’t get a good look at her, but I don’t think it was the girl he’s seen with at races! New girlfriend?

December 2021

Name: Desert Diva

Email: loungesonly@fakeemail.com

Subject: Heartbreak

Message: In the lounge in Dubai and spotted Daniel Ricciardo saying goodbye to his girlfriend while they were both crying. His friends gave her hugs too, and everyone looked miserable. She managed to hold it together mostly until he left, but we were on the same plane and she was crying most of the flight. His insta looks like he’s back in Australia and quarantining, guess the wedding rumours aren’t true. She was so sweet to the staff, apologising for being a mess. That rumour that she’s a cheater is a lie, those two are too cute.

June 2022

Spotted: Walking around Perth Zoo for the weekend and who do I see but hometown hero Daniel Ricciardo. Didn’t take photos cause he was there with family, it looked like his girlfriend and his niece and nephew. I see why his girlfriend’s been MIA recently, she looked pretty ill. They were adorable though, his niece kept holding her hand and asking to be carried whenever we walked past them. Glad to see them together and happy, hopefully his performance improves.

October 2022

Spotted: I just saw Daniel Ricciardo and his girlfriend in the Target in Wooten, Austin. Bought groceries and sheets? No idea.

March 2023

Name: It’s fucking orange

Email: givesyouwings@email.com

Subject: Disgustingly cute

Message: Daniel Ricciardo and Scotty James’ fiancées were both at Eras Tour night one in Vegas. Wearing costumes and singing/yelling along. The two of them had all the words to All Too Well, and I think Em was FaceTiming Daniel during Our Song.

[moralesluvr]

❀ SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS ❀

a/n i literally cried like a baby while writing this :( warnings none just angst, sad fam moments ♡ parings & aus fem!reader x dad!spencer reid word count 0.7k ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

She smiles that precious smile at you, although her eyes are glossed over with fresh tears that run down her plump cheeks. The trunk is closed, her luggage is packed, and she is standing there with her keys in her one hand, your going away gift that you gave her in the other. She tilts her head to the side and her lips curl in a hurt smile, but she does not move.

There's a sorrowful ache of eighteen. All the moments that you shared with her. First "momma." First "daddy." First walk. First birthday. First day at school. First soccer game. First day of middle school. First day of high school.

And now, first day of leaving you.

Next to you, your husband cannot even form words because he is crying so much. Your daughter had always been a daddy's girl, but she had to be the strong one. Spencer swiped a thumb under his bagged eyes and smiled at your daughter, his crying subsiding.

"Leah," you smile, tears flowing down your face like a river as you outstretch your arms. She runs to you like she never has before and she almost knocks you over with the hug that she gives you. You stroke her hair as she cries into your shoulder and you cry into hers. Leah doesn't let go until you suggest that she get going. Her arms loosen around your neck as she grips your shoulders, "I love you, momma."

"I love you. For forever and a day." You tell her, and she immediately runs over to Spencer and hugs him. He picks up her up and spins, and her choked sobs come out as laughs when he puts her down, but he doesn't dare to let go. He's crying again, hard.

He whispers something in her ear and she laughs, and you assume it's an inside joke. He lets go of her and gives her a soft look, "Don't forget about us."

"I won't," Leah smiles, "I could never."

The next moments that follow are the hardest. She waves gently at you and your husband before unlocking the car door, slipping inside. You both wave as you hear the engine start, and as much as you want to yell at her to stop that car, to stay behind, to spend just a few more moments with you, you cannot. She is an adult now, she is no longer under your roof- she is a woman, a strong one at that, and she's going off to make something of herself. To succeed.

And that's all you would want for your daughter.

It hurts when you see the wheels turn and the car slowly leaves the driveway. It hurts when your eyes chase it until it is gone, out of sight, out of reach. It hurts when you hug your husband and cry into his chest in the front of your home.

But what hurts the most, is going back inside.

It is quiet.

There is no one to show you how to make Tik Toks or bake cookies with you, because it has always been your thing. There is no one to go on Target runs with or paint awful paintings with you. There is Spencer, but it will never be the same. You have your own things that married couples have, but nothing in the world could replace what you had with Leah.

It is somber.

When you pass your daughters room, it is dark. It's midday, and the sunlight is shining in on it, but it is dark. There's no her. Her bed is made and it hasn't been made that neat since she was twelve. Her desk is clean and it is always messy with makeup and school papers and food that shouldn't be in her room at all. Her closet is stripped of all her favorite clothes and left with the sweatshirts and pillows that she never really used.

You pick up a picture that sits on her nightstand. It's a picture of you, smiling in a white sundress with your arm wrapped lovingly around your husband. There is Spencer, who's clad in a blue top and tan shorts, his toes buried in the sand. And there is Leah, who's popping her hip out in her bright pink bikini, two thumbs pointing at each side of her head. Her mouth is open but she is smiling.

You laugh at her usual bold personality, your index finger coming up to swipe another loose tear from your eye. You feel Spencer's hands on your waist and he rests his chin atop your head, "I already miss her."

"Me too." You murmur, placing the picture back in its spot.

Slipping through my fingers.

[gothfoxgirlboy]

“Polly”

He/him

Polly is an eternally 21 ghost femboy. He is translucent and glows a pale blue color that changes to pink based on his level of arousal. His hair is scruffy looking and around ear length, it is a dirty blonde and curls slightly. He’s 5’7” and has summer-tanned skin with permanent bikini tan lines. He has crooked teeth and a wild smile. He is chubby and would weigh around 160 lbs if he was corporeal. He has very little hair on his body as he shaved often, and he has a soft butt that clearly is where the brunt of his food went. His chest is a bit bigger than flat and his puffy nipples imply that they may have been in the process of growing. He has a decent-sized cock measuring 6 inches when hard.

Polly is definitely a trickster and a pervert. He enjoys showing himself off to passersby who can’t see him in some form of exhibitionism. However, he never goes too far. He had a great love of makeup and fashion that, unlike he himself, has not died. He frequently possesses people to try on their clothing or pick out outfits for them. Spending hours of the night dressing up and doing makeup. Leaving their rooms a mess as he disappears somewhere else during the day. 

More than anything else Polly loves cracking eggs and feminization. Finding boys who hide a few pieces of “girly” clothing and seeing how much they can feminize them in a single night. Dressing up in pretty outfits, using wigs that are in the house, and doing plenty of makeup to show the person they’re possessing what could be. They usually end the night by taking pictures and nudes in the outfits, and masturbating. Making sure the body remembers the pleasure of dressing up and being so pretty. Occasionally, he’ll return to some of the eggs, oftentimes finding them now beginning their transition, whether socially or medically. When he finds the cracked eggs he possesses them once more, this time keeping their consciousness intact so that they are able to communicate. From this, Polly loves to help them dress up in more and more feminine and then more and more slutty clothing. Taking great pleasure in turning them from a boy to a full-on bimbo. To compliment this Polly will send sensations of sexual pleasure to the minds of the eggs they cracked. This pleasure is sometimes so great that his targets end up loving the feeling of being a doll, unable to control themself or choose the way they dress.

Polly was a student in a fashion school who had a tragic accident while modelling. He had another model’s heel break who then pushed him off the catwalk where the impact knocked a light down that crushed him. Upset that he didn’t ever get the chance to really showcase his art he became a ghost who wanders the world. He spends his time teasing and corrupting cuties and cracking eggs. When he isn’t doing this he enjoys designing and posting pieces of clothing online. Much to the dismay of the people who are aware he is dead. However, he is constantly growing his following. Eventually, he may be one of the most famous designers.

Kink list: Feminization, dollification, bimbofication, exhibition

Last of the Halloween adoptables. 3$ starting bid, .50$ increase.

Bidding closes on the 30th.

[ladylooch]

I think we all deserve some sassy spunky Stelly rn

On a Swiss summer day, black wheels attached to a hot, pink, Barbie Jeep tear over the grass in the Hischier backyard with one target in mind.

Uncle Lee.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEP.

“Holy balls.” A hungover Lio Meier grumbles, launching up in the hammock as Stella presses her palm into the middle of the steering wheel. He presses his hands to his head, wincing at the way it pounds from the noise and sudden movement.

“Uncle Lee! Dollar in my Lego jar!” Stella screeches. “Then come ride in my ‘eep.” 

“Stelly, Balls isn’t a bad word.” Connor calls over his shoulder to his daughter as he casts a line into the lake from shore. He patiently reels the line in, ignoring the ‘what the hell’ look from his wife.

“So, we want her running around saying ‘holy balls’ now?”

“I just think she’s gotten enough funds from Uncle Lee for the week.” Connor brushes his wife’s concerns off. He turns to her, taking in the view of her perky tits in her white bikini top.

Earlier in the week, Lio had slipped down the stairs. As his ass bounced off each step, a different swear word came out of his mouth in both English and Swiss German. Miss Stella didn’t miss that chance to collect.

How she knew the Swiss German swear words is yet to be determined…

“I’m too tired right now.” Lio waves at his niece. Stella stares at him with her sunflower sunglasses perched on her dainty nose. Then she whips her head to look over at her parents. 

“Daddy! Uncle Lee said no to playing with me.”

“Oh my god, is she tattling?” Lucie mutters to Connor. “Stelly, he’s resting. He gets to do that.”

“Baby, why don’t you come fish with daddy?” Connor tries as he tosses the line into the lake another time.

“No.” She yells back, then starts riding her jeep forward. She ends up driving it right into where Lio’s butt dips the hammock towards the ground. Lio puts a hand on her forehead trying to keep her in place but she powers forward until she digs the bumper of the Jeep into his hip.

“Ow. Why does this feel like foreshadowing?” Lio mumbles to his niece. 

“Hey hey hey!” Lucie exclaims, getting up fast from her lounge chair. “Stella! No!” The little girl giggles evilly as her mom rushes forward. “Off the Jeep. You’re done. Go with dad.” 

To the left of the scene, Lucie and Lio’s parents sit with amused smiles perched on their lips.

“Well look at that, Neeks. Lucie met her match after all.” Emma chuckles.

Nico smirks against the bottle of beer on his lips.

That she did indeed.

[jayarrarr]

There's Nothing Good on TV

The US government will never side with Palestine because the US government only appreciates pain that it can exploit as porn, fodder for snowflakes on hashtag-bothsides to invent and reinvent fresh daily assaults on their collective souls, both self-perpetuated and perpetuated by each other. And they are not alone in their spiritual commodification— we are spoonfed objectification sprinkled sweet on our fast-breaking food from the youngest of ages. By the time I was old enough to tell you my age I knew the secret to controlling a man somehow lies somewhere between my thighs, those a lady keeps closed but a pretty lady leaves a gap between. And I knew the world was a stage because I had always been watched, always been told to value appearance over comfort because girls are pretty things to look at and any comfort or security they had before they left home will wither in the stifling heat of the male gaze. Does the lack of pockets keep her dependent or burdened? And I knew that her struggle was a billion-dollar industry, that there were profits to be made just by changing the color to pink and jacking up the price, like the ill-fated attempt to make "jilling off" happen as a euphemism for female masturbation even though us cunts do just as much jacking as anyone else. Pussy. Despite this too-early knowledge I came of age ,if age is a thing you can come of, believing that I was in fact uNiQuE and my sluttitude was borne not of a lifetime of sexualization in the age of toddler bikinis and Co-Ed Naked T-shirts worn in Absolut public but—AHA!—profound emotional spiritual sexual enlightenment I had somehow stumbled upon (having never sought it or reflected on it). The truth is we are all products of our environment, which is to say we are all products, which is to say we are all whores and ain't a damn one of us uNiQuE, not you and definitely not mE. Pray sell yourself a bit softer next time. Once your struggle has been properly branded and affixed with logos and hashtags and verified accounts, you're allowed to have a parade about it, but we're getting ahead of ourselves. Pay no heed to the huddled masses desperately yearning for a past parodied on a porn set, to the tradwife influencers screaming that women should be seen and not heard, to the author of children's fantasy novels imagining herself some sort of authority (on anything other than children's fantasy novels), to the rapist producers and the producer rapists— these are just the natural reactionary byproducts of progress. Progress: It's What We're Making™ Corporations will buy colorful floats and pay off your favorite in-group cult celebrity and fling plastic beads across pavement all so they can continue to refuse to hire you and refuse to pay you when they do and refuse to promote you when they do but you will buy the T-shirt with the logo and you will post pics with the hashtag because you are proud and you will spend more money than you should have worshipping at the altar of your newly branded identity but you will tell yourself it is for a good cause. The cause is lining the pockets of a man (it's not always a man but it's always, ultimately, a man) who could literally lose the equivalent of the average American annual income every hour of every day and not notice for weeks and yet he still has space to complete the commercial exploitation of the corpse of your radicalism. Revolution isn't sold in Target—but if it was, it would have pockets. What I'm trying to say is that of all the things you should lament, you should lament the least the fact that the US government has not yet found a way to commodify and capitalize on the brand of your struggle. ©2024 by Jennifer R.R. Mueller

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch5

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear! Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

In this chapter, Five takes a trip down memory lane whilst hiding something he took form you...and things start to get more complex than he'd thought.

Smut below. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter Five: Nice Girls Who Love to Act Kinky

“Master Five?”

Five had been just about to creep up the attic stairs when Pogo stopped him. He turned around, trying his best to look innocent, arm clamped over the item hidden beneath his Academy blazer.

“Where have you been?”

Five bounced a little on the balls of his feet:

“Just…practicing spatial jumps in various weather conditions. It’s misty out there.”

“Hm.” Pogo was clearly unconvinced, “Did you obtain your father’s permission to leave the Academy?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” he said, attempting to style it out with pure brazenness.

“Then I’m sure you won’t object to me asking Sir Reginald about it?”

Five tried to hold his nerve.

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Pogo’s brow lifted, silently giving Five a final chance. For a moment, he considered, and then the horror of his Dad finding out and probably humiliating him in front of all his siblings made him admit it.

“Okay,” Five said, looking at his feet again, “I didn’t ask. But it was really beneficial to my training.”

Pogo considered him.

“What are you holding under your uniform?”

“Nothing,” said Five, barely-broken voice wobbling and fists slowly curling lest he need to make a quick, blinked exit.

“Number Five…” said Pogo, warningly, “show me what you’re holding and I may think twice about telling your father.”

Five calculated. He needed to get out of here: and quickly. Ideally, nobody should see what he was holding, but it was better Pogo than Dad or his siblings. Looking down at the floor, he produced the magazine and handed it over, feeling his cheeks burn.

The chimp took one look and suppressed a smile with difficulty.

“How did you obtain this? This isn’t the sort of material that should be on sale to minors.”

Five mumbled, not meeting Pogo’s eye, “I…I put the money on the counter and blinked away with it before the guy saw me.”

Pogo sighed and handed it back, where Five stuffed it under his jacket again, hastily.

“I will turn a blind eye this time: but you should know that if I find this, or any other prohibited materials around the Academy, they will be confiscated and I will tell your father where they came from. Do I make myself clear?”

Five briefly met Pogo’s eyes before looking down at his shoes again,

“Yes, Pogo.”

“Very good. You are dismissed.”

The crimson teenager disappeared in a flash of blue. Pogo shook his head. It may be time he suggested to Sir Reginald that a course of sex education would be beneficial in the Academy.

Five kneels, head against the floor as he looks under his bed. There it is, still there: the small pine box he had always hidden behind anything he could place in front of it. He smiles reminiscently at the sight, at the memory of the younger-self who had put it there. He'd lived over fifty years since then.

Reaching, he pulls it out and wipes off the dust. Inside, sure enough, is the issue of Playboy he’d bought with what he’d imagined was stealth. He laughs at the now incredibly-dated cover: three women in bikinis and platform heels posing in front of a pink background. If this hadn’t been appealing enough, the intriguing cover line ‘Nice Girls Who Love to Act Kinky’ made his young self a little too intrigued to leave this behind in the convenience store.

But he wasn’t here for a trip down memory lane. Reaching into his waistcoat pocket he pulls out your panties and stows them away in the box for future…inspection. Placing the lid back on, he realizes it's about time to expand this rather meager private collection.

As the weeks went on, Five unbuttoned around you, both physically and conversationally, though you still haven't seen him fully naked. He'll usually leave at least one item of clothing on, even if it's just his shirt worn open. He's not comfortable with you running your hands all over him.

Scars criss-cross his body. He doesn't invite questions, so you so far hadn’t asked about them, instead contenting yourself with memorizing them: mapping his body in your mind, letting your exploratory gaze do what your fingers longed to yet were prohibited from.

Physical affection is quite firmly not on the table: loving words even less so. The best you get from him is a final kiss before he rolls off you; the only thing to reassure you that he doesn’t really mean the things he says when he fucks you. Today, you don’t even get that: after calling you a dumb slut just before he came, he now lies back, arms over his head, sweat glistening on his body. He takes longer to catch his breath, having done most of the athletics in tonight’s session. He briefly closes his eyes.

“Fuck, that was good.”

You can sense that he’s mentally stirring himself to leave. It makes you feel a little flutter of something, particularly after that little piece of degradation. Sure, it was hot, but in the cold-light of post-coitus, you’re feeling something you can’t quite place.

“You want to do it again?”, you ask.

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you skeptically.

“Come on,” you probe, “don’t tell me you’re a one-and-done sort of guy.”

His mouth spasms with something midway between amusement and disapproval.

“As flattering as it is that you can’t get enough, I can’t get it back up straight away tonight. I just came pretty hard and I’ve not eaten. I need to be making tracks.”

“Well, okay, but I’m at a conference on Tuesday so you’re going to have to wait an entire week to fuck me again. Don’t you want to make the most of it?”

He turns onto his side, wry amusement spreading his face now,

“Can’t I come on Monday?”

“No. You came this Monday. We do alternate Mondays.”

He huffs, “What’s the conference about, innovative methods of being a tight-ass?”

“No, it’s about dealing with arrogant little shits who can’t stick to their fuck-schedules.”

He suppresses a laugh, “Fuck-schedule? Sweet Jesus, what a boner-killing idea.”

You shrug as if to say: what else would you call it? Your expression perhaps reminds him that the oddly specific arrangement was of his making. His mouth twitches again. 

God, he's so beautiful when he smiles. 

He seems to ponder, absent-mindedly sweeping his hair out of his eyes in a way that makes your stomach flutter. As he shifts slightly, you notice another little scar above his left eyebrow. You reach out to run your finger across it, for the moment forgetting how strange he can be about touches like these.

He tenses, eyes meeting yours as your finger makes contact with the scar. You raise your finger off his skin again, letting your eye contact speak the request. After a second or so, he lowers his head in acquiescence, presenting the scar more clearly to your eye. You place your finger back down and feel the indentation of tissue.

“What happened?” you murmur.

“Of all the scars I have, why ask about that one?” he smiles slightly uncomfortably, deflecting the question and buttoning his shirt. 

“I just…never noticed it before.”

You keep tracing the scar, liking how it feels to do this: happy to be free to touch even this tiny area of skin in a way that denotes…care.

He watches you from beneath his lashes, your focus entirely on the scar. The corners of your mouth turn down slightly, eyes filled with benign interest. Your touch is unlike other touches. It’s cool…even soothing.

“It’s a long story,” he says, quietly, as if unsure why he’s telling you, “I got in a fight. My brother Viktor got jumped at an all-night gas station while I was sitting in the car. He’s kinda small and I guess he looked like an easy target; this was at a time when we briefly lost our powers so it wasn’t either of our best work. There were two of them and one managed to hit my head off a dumpster.”

“Shit.” you respond, rubbing the pad of your thumb over it again, as if you could undo the pain with the caress.

Five lets out a single exhale of laughter at your concern, “Well, Viktor and I are still around and those guys ended up in the dumpster, so I’d call that a success.”

“Were you both okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Viktor had a split lip but it just needed ice.” as the rest of your hand threatens to cup his cheek, he sits up, “How about I meet you back here in an hour or so. I’ll get me some food and caffeine and then come back to deal with that greedy little pussy?

Now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows. “I can go one better. Do you like Sri Lankan food?”

“I can’t say I’ve tried a great deal.”

“Well, I haven’t eaten either. I have an extra piece of fish marinated and ready to go into a kulambu sauce. Maybe with rice and a quick coconut sambal? Should take me twenty minutes, maximum.”

He considers you, lips thin and eyebrows lowered as if you’ve just offered him something suspect.

“You like to cook, huh?”

“Yeah,” you respond, a little nonplussed.

He hums his acceptance of this apparently surprising notion and tilts his head to the side, “Why not? Mind if I grab a coffee?”

While you cook, he sits straight-backed on the couch. When, after a couple of failed conversation starters, you instead put on a podcast on revenge and retributive justice to fill the silence. He listens too, sometimes making comments and answering your own, but he’s distracted.

He’s just here for the sex and the food really does smell good. This isn’t getting embroiled in your life…he just happens to be also eating here. And it’s natural that you touching him outside of a sexual context shouldn’t mess with him as much as it does when other people do it...a guy can’t help but get more comfortable with somebody’s fingers when they've been wrapped around the shaft of his dick several times over the past couple of weeks.

He'll just have to be careful you don’t get the wrong idea.

“Do you want some wine?” you ask, letting the rice steam as the pot bubbles on the stove.

“Just a smidge,” he smiles, letting an edge of cold formality lace his manner.

“It might not be up to your exacting standards, Robert Parker. You can have red or white.”

He smiles fully in spite of his resolution, “white with fish, please.”

You hand him a glass and pour him a large Chardonnay. He winces when he sees the bottle but, seeming to realize that beggars can’t be choosers, holds his tongue. He raises his glass to you from a distance and takes a sip.

You sit on the other end of the couch and fold your bare legs under you. Smalltalk isn’t Five’s forte and the stove timer tells him they have ten minutes before the rice is cooked.

When it becomes clear that Five isn’t going to break the silence, you take the initiative:

“So, what do you do for fun?”

“You,” he says, deadpan.

“Seriously: you got any hobbies?”

This is verging dangerously into ‘getting-to-know-you’ territory, so Five deflects, adopting the domineering persona that seems to drive you wild.

“I’d rather talk about what I’m going to do to you after dinner.”

You have no objection to this and untuck your legs, stretching them out so as to make them more visible to him; so he can follow your calves up to your thighs and maybe catch a glimpse of your panties under the short slip you pulled on to cook.

“Tell me then,” you say, voice already husky.

He puts down his wine and places a hand on each of your ankles.

“Well, before I put these up on my shoulders and fuck you silly, I’m going to kiss and lick that cute little pussy until I get nice and hard.”

His fingers stretch up your shins.

“Then I’m going to make you come. Maybe once, maybe twice. Get you nice and relaxed. And then-”

He strokes his hands down the back of your thighs, coming to cup the parts of your ass cheeks not in contact with the couch cushion.

“I want to get you used to having fingers in your ass. If you’d be so kind?”

He meets your eyes with raised, expectant brows- the commanding look that reminds you of a teacher: like a school principal addressing a difficult student on the cusp of a behavioral breakthrough. It’s a look that contrasts particularly starkly with his youthful appearance. You play along with him.

“If you’re gentle, Daddy.”

He rises to his knees and your legs fall open. He positions himself between them and leans towards you, propping himself up on his arms.

“I’ll be so gentle. I’m going to be so gentle to begin with. I’ll only go hard after I’ve turned you into a slut for it- until you’re begging me to pound you.”

His nose is an inch from yours.

“It’s going to feel so good. Your tight little ass gripping every inch of me. Fuck.”

“You’d be the first.” you whisper, “I’ve never let anybody fuck me there before.”

He makes a noise deep in his throat, bringing one hand to stroke and squeeze your neck.

“I’m going to make it good for you. You’re such a good girl, saving your ass for Daddy. He’s gonna make it feel so good and you’re going to make him feel so good too. Such a good little girl for me.”

He closes the gap between you and takes your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it with force just beyond playful. It lights an unexpected fire in your belly. Your hand leaps to his thick, sweet-smelling hair and you force his lips into yours and your tongue into his mouth. He freezes slightly at your sudden, unexpected violence but quickly matches you, pulling your hair harshly. His tongue forces yours out of his mouth, pushing both into yours instead, pinning your tongue while he slides his own as far down your throat as he can breach.

You pull his hair, repositioning his head to give yourself an advantage. He allows you to tongue him for a few seconds before fighting back again, wrenching your arms to your sides and pinning them with his knees. He uses the weight of his body to restrain you and push your head into the arm of the couch. Now, you only have your tongue to resist him, so you fight his as if your life depends on it.

When he eventually breaks the kiss, panting, he looks down on you. His eyes are narrowed and he chews the inside of his cheek in a satisfied way.

“So you do have a bit of fight in you. I like that.”

“Yeah, sure I do. You want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you after dinner?” you say breathlessly.

“I’m happy for you to make requests.” He says, imperiously, using the hand still in your hair to jerk your head for emphasis, “but you don’t tell me anything, little girl.”

You don’t avert your eyes from his gaze, defiant now.

“I want to tease your nipples until they’re so hard it hurts. Then I want to rub your cock and make you ride your edge until you beg to come. Then, if you’re cute enough when I jerk you off, I’d let you fuck me.”

He freezes, stares and then the stove timer beeps. He gets off you, clearly a little overwrought.

You both ate in silence, occasionally making eye contact and then looking away again. He finished his food first and tried not to watch you as you ate yours.

He drank his wine, trying to ignore the huge, hard boner below his waistband. The food was very tasty but he’d hardly been in a state to appreciate the complex flavor profile. This damn girl…you attract him more than he likes. He wishes he could control it but he’s a slave to his cock when it comes to you. When you said those things, he was absolutely sure he was about to paint the inside of his underwear for the first time since this body was fourteen. He held off with difficulty but now the boner just won’t quit. You made him ride his edge just in saying those dirty things. Bottoming is far from his preference (it has some unpleasant associations for him) but the body wants it on occasion even if his mind gets in the way.

When you finally place your fork down, he stands up abruptly.

“Back to the bedroom?”

“Don’t you want to finish your wine?” you say, an amused smile playing about your lips.

“No. It’s terrible.”

He grabs you by the front of your slip and blinks with you to the bedroom, pushing you roughly onto the bed.

“Woah,” you say, again reeling slightly from the unexpected sensation: dizziness, disorientation and a slight static-fizz lingering on your skin.

“It takes some getting used to,” he says, forcing your slip up to your waist and pulling your panties aside.

He kneels on the floor and laps at your pussy, moaning in satisfaction at the come waiting there for him. Greedily, he licks up the wetness he created before dinner. He surfaces briefly, slipping two fingers inside you and pumping them softly.

“You taste so sweet…so fucking sweet.”

You arch your back into his face as he returns his tongue to your clit.

“Really go hard on my clit,” you whisper. He ups the intensity, tongue faltering a little as it gets used to performing a repetitive, concentrated tweaking motion.

“Yes…fuck yes. Tongue me right there.”

He makes a noise of satisfied assent into your clit.

Eventually, slightly inexpertly, he makes you come like this. The orgasm builds as if from your toes and rips through you mercilessly. It carries on and on, morphing in feel as his mouth gets tired and he replaces his tongue with his fingers. This leaves his mouth free to mutter obscenities, chin covered in the creamy evidence of your arousal.

“Look at you. Still coming, huh? Just look at you. Your ass is already twitching. Hell, with this wet pussy, I won’t even need lube to begin with.”

“I want…I want,” you pant out, trying to get out the words between waves of pleasure that cause your hips to pump and teeth to grit.

“What do you want, whore?” he speeds his fingers, knowing it will be even harder to talk. 

You cry out at a particularly intense spike of pleasure and finally finish the extremely long orgasm, curled toes finally releasing.

“S-stop!” you cry, pulling at his wrist. He withdraws slowly, a thick film of come coating his fingers.

“Was that good?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, breathlessly, “but now I want to edge you.”

“No.” he says, simply, “bend over. That’s it- face down, ass up and spread those cheeks.”

He climbs on the bed as you move obediently into position. Using lube from your bedside drawer, he spends some time just running the tip of his index finger across your hole.

“How does that feel?” he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice.

“Dirty,” you answer, embarrassedly.

“Green dirty, or red dirty?”

“Green.” you whisper, and his lubed finger exerts the slightest pressure...

Afterwards, he thanked you for dinner and immediately said a hasty goodbye, leaving your apartment feeling empty and you strangely bereft.

Masterpost

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