#they're not even hiding their objectification

[cluethegirl]

I don't like anything about this

[onlyseokmins]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

[inkskinned]

no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.

too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.

2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?

but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.

as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.

which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.

the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.

so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.

and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.

but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.

people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".

but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.

but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.

a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.

i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.

and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.

it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.

[stairain]

Only you, darling.

You tell your professor you want a “real relationship”, it doesn’t bode well at all. 

Part 3 to Bad Idea and Yes, Professor. All three can be read standalone, there's no real plot.

Warnings: Dom Spencer, 10+ year age gap (No defined ages, but reader is over 20, Spencer is under 40), angst, threats of breakup, choking (hand + belt), slapping, crying, brief spanking, dumbification, manipulation, corruption, objectification, degradation.

WC: 2.1K

After the last time you had been with Professor Reid, you’ve been confused about your relationship with him. Maybe it was wrong that he was your professor, and you were his student. Actually, there was no ‘maybe’ about it, it wasn’t good, at all. 

You’re trying to push the guilt away, which is exactly why you’re talking to a random guy you ran into on campus on your way to class. You give him a flirtatious smile as the two of you talk and hang out with each other on a few couches in a common area. 

You don’t notice Spencer watching the two of you though.

You see Spencer out of the corner of your eye, but when you see his eyes glaring at you see that the look on his face is cold as ice. He's not happy about this, at all. But, he seems to be. holding back the instinct to come over and intervene.

He's letting you do this, wanting to see where you’d take this. 

Your heart beat began to pick up and your features turned fearful as you felt his threatening gaze on you. He'll no doubt talk to you about this later, but that’d be the perfect time to talk to him about everything you’ve been pondering for the past few days. The random guy in front of you looks confused, and looks behind him to make sure everything is alright. You sigh and put on a fake smile for the boy.

You reached a hand out to rest against his shoulder as you spoke. 

“Hey, it was great bumping into you, but I’ve got to get home now. I’ll talk to you later..”

You wave goodbye as he walks away, and your smile immediately fades when you see your professor still staring at you with his arms crossed.

Spencer's expression is absolutely cold in these moments, almost like he's not even human anymore. He's barely even blinking, and those eyes.. Those eyes are like lasers, and they're burning into you. It’s like he's trying to look right through you.

He walks up to you, clearly upset, and he's not hiding it at all. He stops right in front of you, his arms crossed almost as if he's standing guard in front of you now. His silence is daring you to talk.

“L-Listen, Sir.. Let’s just talk about this at your place.. Please.”

You silently plead to him, not wanting to make a scene you know he’ll create.

Spencer looks down at you for a moment and deeply sighs.

"Fine." He mutters... "My office." he says, as he turns around and begins to walk away.

"You'd better follow me." he adds, speaking to you  over his shoulder "You've got fifteen minutes..."

He walks away from you, his face still as cold as ever as you take those few precious seconds to yourself, contemplating what is going to happen now.

You take a deep breath and try to calm down your nerves. You loved him so much, and you know even the thought of this conversation would be enough to make him furious. You stand up and quickly start walking to his office where you know he is, not wanting to make him even more mad.

You enter his office, and he's seated behind his desk already. He’s looking at you with those same cold, piercing eyes as before, those same cold eyes that you've become so accustomed to lately.

Those cold eyes that you crave so badly.

"Well... what do you have to say for yourself...?" Spencer finally asks. He looks down at his watch momentarily.  "I'd say you've got 13 minutes left to explain yourself."

You swallow and walk up to the opposite side of his desk, looking down at him. “I-I.. I’m not sorry for talking to him.” 

"Oh, you're not..?" Spencer asks, his tone dripping with venom as he looks up at you. He's absolutely fuming. He stands up and leans over the desk, trying to intimidate you. 

"Let me ask you something then," he says, his voice low and threatening, "How would you feel..if I was flirting with another one of my students... hm?"

You practically stop breathing at his threat, before shaking your head. “I.. I wouldn’t care.” You had so much to say, and yet you couldn’t even get out a full sentence without stuttering.

"You wouldn't care...?" Spencer scoffs and raises a brow, his voice lowering even further. His eyes are growing even more cold and his tone is dripping with venom.

"Really? You wouldn't care? You want to see me with someone else?” He asks, a little bit of a sadistic smile spreading over his face now. "Why is that...?" He challenges you. 

“Maybe if you were with someone else you wouldn’t have to keep them a secret.” You bite back, finally getting to what you’ve been needing to say to him.

Spencer's eyes widened, and for the first time, a look of pain flashes over his face, but it's gone just as soon as it had come. It was quickly replaced once more with cold fury.

"Secret?" Spencer asks, his voice filled with a dangerous edge to it now. 

"You think I want to keep our relationship a secret?" He asks in an angry tone. "What in the hell ever made you think that?" His voice is cold... but it's not without an intensity that is genuinely a little bit terrifying.

You can’t help the shake in your hands at his tone. He was intimidating, and despite your love for him, he scared you more than anything else.

“I-I.. What about me..? Maybe I want to be with someone who I can actually go out with. Ever think of that? Maybe I’m just tired of being a secret.”

Spencer's eyes flash once more and he walks around the desk until he's in front of you now. And in an instant, he's right up in your face, his cold, piercing eyes burning into yours. 

"What did you say...?" Spencer asks, his voice suddenly filled with a vicious, angry energy.

"You would really leave me.. is that what I'm hearing?" He’s in disbelief, rightfully so. And his tone grows even more intense.

Your body and mind shrinks under his gaze and intimidating presence. You really wished you hadn’t said anything. 

“Sir.. I’m just tired of doing this..” You gesture between the two of you, and what little room there was left. “Sneaking around, being yours but not really yours. I want to be with someone who I can be seen with.”

“You want to be with someone else, huh?" Spencer asks, the vicious look in his eyes growing to the look of a predator hunting his prey.

"You want a real relationship.. Is that it?" He asks, glaring down at you.

Your mouth is dry, you had this all planned out in your head, but now that it’s happening, now that he’s repeating your thoughts back to you.. You can’t even speak.

“Go then.” 

His voice dryly commands. There’s no love, no care, no affection anywhere to be found. His words have nothing but malice.

A silence overtakes the entire room as the two of you stare at each other, both awaiting your next actions. 

You’re shaking, and frozen in place like a deer in headlights. Your bottom lip trembles when you attempt to speak, but in snap, his hands are on you. 

His big strong hands are cradling the back of your head and he’s pulling you in for a kiss full of passion and anger. 

You whimper against his aggressive hold on you, but yet you just can’t bring yourself to push him away. Your hands wrap around his forearms and you kiss back with the same intensity that he’s showing you. 

The two of you can barely breathe, with each exhale you were just breathing in each other's air, and it made you lightheaded. You managed to pull him away from you for a moment to catch your breath. And when you look at him he looks absolutely wrecked. Whether it was from the threat of you leaving him, or from the kiss alone, he looked beautiful. 

Spencer roughly grabs you by the waist and pulls your shaking body flush against his. His eyes are locked with yours as he leans in to shove his tongue in your mouth. He’s licking over your teeth, slithering against your own tongue, and throat fucking you with his. 

When he pulls away, he grabs you by your throat and growls against your lips. His tone is mocking and downright disrespectful, as if making fun of you. 

“Can’t believe my little girl would ever even think about leaving me.. You have no one else, angel.. What were you thinking?” 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head when you feel his grip on your throat tighten, cutting off your airflow. You shake your head and try to appease him.

“I-I was- I wasn’t thinking, sir. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry for being so stupid..” 

A sadistic smile twists on his face and he removes the hand from your hair, trading it for using it to slap you quickly across your face. You moan out in pain at the sting, but you knew you deserved it.

“Yeah.. What a stupid little thing.. You’re so lucky you’re pretty, angel.” 

He throws you right over his shoulder, as if you’re nothing more than a doll for him to use whenever he wants. He walks over to the couch in his office and roughly throws you down on it. You yelp in surprise and quickly turn around to see what he’s doing, and you’re met with the glorious sight of him pulling his belt out of the loops of his pants. 

And once he had the long thick strip of leather in his hands, he’s sitting on the couch himself and throwing you over his lap. You’re bent over his thighs and your ass is facing the air. You had conveniently worn a skirt to classes today, which proved to be more than helpful when he immediately flips up the bottom of it and exposes your smooth unmarked skin. 

“So beautiful, it’s like you’re not even real..” 

As far as he’s concerned, you aren’t. You’re nothing but a toy to him. The professor lightly chuckles at his own words, before reaching out and grabbing a handful of the fat of your ass. You jump at the feeling but quickly melt into his touch, moaning out at the contact and the way he roughly grips you. 

Then, Spencer folds the belt around his fist, and brings it down hard against your ass. The impact is sudden, and god is it powerful. You gasp in pain as you’re caught off guard by the first strike, you were given no warning, and it seemed like he was already showing no mercy. 

“F-Fuck.. Sir..” 

His belt comes down hard against your bottom once more, and his cold, piercing eyes stay locked with yours. You bite down on the fabric of his dress pants to stifle your cries, not wanting to be heard by anyone else that was still possibly in the building at this time. You can already feel the heat blossoming on your rear at the hits, and know they’ll be a sickening shade of purple and red by tomorrow. 

The anger from before is nowhere near gone, and it becomes increasingly apparent when the belt is no longer pressed against your ass as he spanks you, but instead it’s now wrapped around your neck as he yanks on it. He pulls it so you’re no longer bent over his lap, but instead sitting upright in his lap, using it like a makeshift leash and collar. 

Spencer tightens the belt around your delicate throat and huffs in rage.

“Try and leave me again, little girl. See what fucking happens.” 

You quickly become lightheaded at his incredibly sadistic actions, and start rapidly tapping on his thigh as a signal that it was getting too much. The belt suddenly loosens around your neck, and you gasp for air as you can finally see the room around you, your vision no longer clouded.

The man scoffs at how pathetic you are, and sighs deeply before grabbing you by your neck with his hand this time, and pressing your back to his chest so he could whisper in your ear. The deep rumble in his voice sends shivers up your spine and arousal down to your cunt. 

“You really think that boy would love you?” He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“No one loves you as much as I do, babygirl.. You can’t trust anyone else but me, you know that.” 

You nodded as tears began to brim your waterline and freely cascade down your rosy cheeks. His words hurt to hear, but you know he was entirely right. 

“Y-Yes, Sir.. Only you..” 

He had conditioned you at this point, that if you did leave him, you know you’d be completely lost without him. He was your everything, you needed him.  

“That’s right, sweet thing, you’ll never need anyone else..” 

[bunnyreaper]

more gross perv soap hc's (mostly to share the brainrot with @ceilidho !!)

(18+/mdni, disgusting perv soap, dubcon/noncon elements)

absolutely has a folder on his phone where he screenshots every. single. photo that you post. ashamedly saves your snaps in the chat even before you get together, and you think it's just for fun or jokes, but it's so much more than that. (he knows how to screenshot your stories or close friends posts too so he can keep them forever, as that's where you might post something more revealing or intimate that gets him going) 

absolutely uses the photos as reference material as he draws insane smutty drawings in a little notebook he has. the best part of his little talent is that he can put pencil to paper and make all of his perverted thoughts tangible. makes little doodles of you bound, covered in his cum, pussy all puffy and swollen. when he's feeling particularly unhinged he might draw himself there alongside you, cock stuffed inside you. any scenario he can imagine, he can just draw you like that, just for him.

tries to subtly steer conversations with the guys in your direction, so they'll share in his objectification of you (but then he might get a little jealous if he thinks they're going too far). asks gaz if he's noticed how form fitting your workout clothes are, or if he saw your midriff in that latest photo you posted. none of them ever say anything as gross as the thoughts in johnny's head, and he finds himself spiraling as he posts pictures of you online to certain forums, encouraging strangers to leave the nastiest comments imaginable that he also reads and jerks off to.

has you saved in his phone as cumrag, but really it's just a joke, and not at all a reference to the numerous times he's spilled over photos of you--your smiling face stained with pearly drops of cum as he imagines what it would look like for real.  

of course he has a pair of your panties he uses to get off, often in rotation as he soils new pairs thinking about how you're wearing something that's been rubbed against his cock. 

sometimes he'll purposefully come find you after he's wanked to pictures of you, his hands still stained with the slightest amount of cum as he just wiped off his hands instead of washing them. makes sure to get extra touchy feely with you, giving you a hug, resting his hands on your shoulders, maybe caressing your cheek as he tells you a dumb joke--just leaving a trace of his essence on your skin. 

and if you're together? oh he definitely hides his perversions at first, slowly but surely introducing you to them as he creeps over boundaries and conditions you into loving the attention. asking for you to indulge him with his perfectly begging eyes in a way you can't help but comply. 

if the two of you are going drinking he'll finish your outfit by cumming in your panties and leaving you with the squelch between your lips as the two of you go about your night--making sure you're properly claimed by him. 

gets you drunk and a little loose so he can encourage you to tell the guys about how good he fucks you, how big his dick is, how much he makes you cum and how you love the filthy shit he does to you. you'll blush furiously the entire time but he just coaxed you into saying more. 

really does use you as a cumrag now he has you. will just find you on the couch watching tv or sleeping in bed and will jerk off until he paints your pretty face, doesn't even bother to clean it up. if you're awake, he'll make you wear it for as long as he can, maybe even answer the door to the food delivery guy with it still on your cheeks--even if you're mortified by the idea. 

takes so many photos and videos of you fucking he might as well just have a camera permanently pointed at your bed. he's addicted to capturing every dirty little thing he does to you, to having proof of the moments when you give in and beg him to do something filthier. his phone is full of videos of him using your mouth until your face is covered in drool, spitting in your mouth and making you swallow it like a tasty treat, smearing his cum all over your body like its fucking lotion. (or that one time you'd pissed him off by getting grossed out at him that he came on the floor and made you lick up every single drop.) 

makes you watch back the videos as he rubs you, only letting you come at the most disgusting parts so he can really solidify his conditioning of you as his perfect, depraved little girlfriend.

[batrachised]

An Exploration of Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy

(do NOT judge me)

Anakin Skywalker holds the unique position of being one of the most famous fictional characters of all time. Instantly recognizable, the epitome of iconic villainy, he goes beyond beloved character to join the ranks of cultural icons.

Over the past 50 years, countless analyses have been written on Anakin Skywalker and his hero's journey. While virtually every aspect of the character has been explored, one remains critically unexamined: his similarity to another cultural icon, Miss Piggy from the Muppets. While both of their presences in pop culture are nearly ubiquitous, the two have curiously never been associated with each other in the cultural lexicon.

This paper aims to explore Anakin Skywalker's and Miss Piggy's similarities through the lens of their background, their general characteristics, and their relationships. In doing so, it argues that Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy share a common basis as people shaped by their rage and their love in equal measure.

Background

When examining Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy's backgrounds, the author finds that they share several common beats. Anakin Skywalker grew up on a backwater planet, abused and a victim of a violent system from birth. Irrevocably shaping him forever, it formed the backdrop for his complicated relationship with his mother and his eventual fall into deep evil. Miss Piggy's journey neatly parallels this, as demonstrated in the following quote from Frank Oz:

"She grew up in a small town; her father died when she was young and her mother wasn't that nice to her. She had to enter beauty contests to survive. She has a lot of vulnerability which she has to hide, because of her need to be a superstar"

Both Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy had troubled childhoods; both grew up in backwater towns; both had complex relationships with their parents, whether through absent fathers or painful memories of their mother. Both had to use their bodies to survive. In Anakin's case, living as a piece of property who did not own his own body; in Miss Piggy's, falling back on her beauty to participate in systematic objectification. Anakin risks his life in podraces; Miss Piggy stalwartly appears in bacon commercials. Both suffered insecurities as a result of their upbringing: Anakin, forever unsure of his personhood, and Miss Piggy, tied to a mother who never wanted her. Forged in similar fires, Anakin and Miss Piggy's lives show two beings sharpened by their experiences, made especially clear in their characteristics.

Characteristics

Anakin Skywalker and Miss Piggy are primarily defined by need to respond with violence. Miss Piggy is described as conveying a feminine charm - then suddenly flying into violent rages when thwarted. In the Star Wars trilogy, Anakin Skywalker is famed as the dashing Hero with No Fear, while savagely violent when it suits his purposes. Capricious, arrogant, and convinced that they're destined for greatness, both Anakin and Miss Piggy bear the marks of their childhood. After years of being treated as worthless, neither can handle critiques gracefully, although notably Miss Piggy shows herself to be more violent than Anakin in this regard. Pre-Vader Anakin complains; Miss Piggy goes for the kill. Regardless of response, both are convinced nothing will stand in their way.

Additionally, Miss Piggy and Anakin even share a few physical characteristics. Both are burly and physically intimidating compared to the others around them. Both wear gloves that are symbolic; Miss Piggy's, of the image she wants to convey to the world, and Anakin's, of risking being more machine than man. They also both are martial artists. Anakin Skywalker is frequently described as one of the most powerful and dangerous Jedi of his generation, a formidable and cunning warrior; Miss Piggy is famed for her karate chop that sends its target flying across the room.

Most essentially, both are figures of puppetry who still retain their agency. Anakin Skywalker is a victim of forces larger than himself, groomed to be a Sith Lord since childhood, and yet the inevitability of his fall is disproven by his own kindness and heroism preceding it. As with all muppets, Miss Piggy is a puppet but one who, within the story, has a will of her own. She, much like Anakin, makes her choices in the end.

Relationships

Lastly, Anakin Skywalker's and Miss Piggy's relationships mirror each other with similar dimensions. Their relationships are characterized by intensity and undertones of violence. Anakin Skywalker consistently shows an interest in Padme, pursuing her only to be rebuffed; Miss Piggy consistently shows an interest in Kermit, pursuing him only to be rebuffed. After a rocky road in the beginning, both experience rejection until they are rejected in no longer in a whirlwind romance - Anakin, after a respectful acceptance of Padme's wishes, and Miss Piggy, after a dogged pursuit. Once together, the relationships are unstable and dysfunctional. Anakin beats another man in a jealous rage, while Miss Piggy, "when not smothering [Kermit] in kisses...is sending him flying through the air with a karate chop." Both are on and off again with their partners; both are truly in love but struggle to form healthy connections after a childhood of trauma.

Conclusion

As seen above, Miss Piggy and Anakin Skywalker share similarities in background, characteristics, and relationships. While this paper attempts to begin an exploration into these similarities, future work is still needed to fully flesh out their radical extent. This paper did not cover issues such as the two both being incredibly melodramatic, among others, nor how both suffer the consequences of their rage. The author would like to close with a cautionary quote from Friedrich Nietzsche:

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

[girlashfur]

Transmisogyny In The Warriors Fandom : The Mothpool Issue

hi, my name is muyang / @girlashfur and i'm a transfeminine being who enjoys the fictional series of warrior cats. i've been into this book series for as long as i can remember, ever since i was a little kid. and growing up with this fandom, i've noticed a reocurring issue among it, which i aim to do a break-down of now.

the issue is transmisogyny. for those who are unaware : transmisogyny is the unique combination and overlap of misogyny and transphobia, specifically targeting transfeminine individuals. it's a widespread issue in just about every corner of the world, even spaces for transgender and otherwise queer individuals seem to have a problem with being transmisogynistic, intentionally or not. the warriors fandom is not exempt from this; and they're not special, either, i'm yet to encounter a popular fictional fanbase that doesn't have several transmisogynists among it's members. but the warriors fandom seems to have a peculiar way of going about it.

to start, i want to clarify that there seems to be...a surprising lack of transfem warriors fans to begin with; i can name about three off the top of my head, not counting myself, compared to hundreds of cisgender, transmasc, or otherwise tme (transmisogyny exempt) fans. perhaps we're just underrepresented, i'm sure there's more of us out there, but nonetheless i'd like to make it clear i'm writing this mainly based off of what i personally have experienced and witnessed in this fandom. my word may not speak for every transfem person, and that's okay.

transmisogyny isn't always violent and obvious; it's not always slurs and misgendering and harrassment, although don't get me wrong, plenty of transmisogynists do engage in such a way. but it can also be a subtle practice, something most tme people would not pick up on. like all systems of oppression, it can also be a learned behavior, one somebody witnesses happen (typically unpunished) and assumes is okay to recreate. one of the ways this can happen is through the objectification and sexualization of transfeminity. stereotypes are a common form of this. oftentimes, transfeminine characters are portrayed as violent and agressive, masculine and gruff, or as suave and predatory womanizers, sometimes a mixture of all three.

the warriors fandom does this often. there are several characters that are commonly headcanoned as transfem by the fandom, and most are victim to being portrayed this way. a few i can think of off the top of my head are cats like russetfur, crowfeather, mapleshade, darktail, tree, and yes...mothwing. mothwing is a bit of a special case, because i believe most people only headcanon her as transfeminine so they can ship her with leafpool (the ship commonly named mothpool) and imagine the two with biological kittens, in some aus, even as the three's parents.

this is a form of objectification already, although one might not catch onto it immediately. mothwing's transness is turned into a token, a special card to be exchanged to fit the fandom's idolized version of the ship. one could argue it could be interpreted as sexualization as well; while the warriors fandom tends to stray away from outright sexual portrayals of the cats (for good and obvious reasons), mothwing being transfem is still only done for the purpose of making her a cat with a penis, so she can have kits.

mothwing isn't canonically a particularly violent or angry cat, nor does she seem to be particularly romantic (she actually doesn't have a canon mate at all, being a medicine cat). however, in fandom based portrayals of her, she's often twisted to fit these stereotypes. sometimes she's designed to be large and masculine with the excuse of it being because she's a tigerkin, or sometimes she's portrayed as being very proud and open about her love of leafpool (who is often portrayed as shy and defenseless, practically hiding behind her). i've seen several aus with transfem mothwing in them "conveniently" include things like her formerly training as a warrior, or killing another cat (such as crowfeather) "for leafpool", or even portraying her as evil, typically falling to the manipulation of her father.

mothpool as a ship isn't really the issue here. it's the fandom's doing. the two have quite a few canon interactions that could be portrayed as romantic, and sure, it's really not my buisness what people ship as long as it's legal and all...but when you get exposed to so much hidden transmisogyny tied to one ship, as a victim of transmisogyny, you grow kinda wary of the ship as a whole. the few transfeminine people i've spoken to about this issue seemed to share my feelings as well. the moment i see a mothpool shipper mention making mothwing trans, i get shivers.

another point i'd like to make clear is that it's not every mothpool shipper doing this either, even out of the ones who do make her trans, i've met a few who portrayed it well and seemed very open and concerned about my views on transfem mothwing as a transfem person. i'm also certainly not saying you should go harrass people for shipping what they want, that's not my point nor is it helpful. as i've mentioned before, there's a good chance some of the people portraying mothpool in harmful ways like this don't fully realize what they're doing, and think it's okay because it's something they've seen before. i don't want those people to think they're bad for falling into those false beliefs, as long as they change them when they realize how they're offensive.

what i'm aiming to do here is give my two cents on why i generally dislike the ship as a transfeminine being myself, and to also spread awareness to why i feel that way. if i can make some people out there rethink some transmisogynist views they had perpetuated before, then my work is done well. as i'm finishing off this little essay of mine, i hope my message was explained clearly and gently, as it should be. see you guys in the next post, muyang out.

[punkeropercyjackson]

I've said it and i'll keep saying it that the reason Todomomo is and was so hated is that it's an extremely asian ship,not just in the characters being japanese but as in that they're WRITTEN instrictvely and designed super japanese/asian(Shouto is closed off with his emotions due to an aggressively traditionalist dad who stripped his mom's rights with his high scial status but learns to let himself feel and express emotions as healing and straight up lives in an old school home in modern day and Momo is a 'silk hiding steel' girl who's pressured by her parents to be the perfect student and lady and this manifested in adultification and objectification even though she's underaged but this dosen't stop her from standing up for herself and being a total badass)and so is their dynamic(Shouto expressed his admiration for Momo silently to not cause a big show since he was taught not to but did a grand love confession-esque speech when he realized he accidentally hurt her and Momo openly gushes about how cool and charming she thinks Shouto is because it's normalized for teen asian girls to fawn over asian boys their age but it IS important to note that Tdmm's genders are never brought into the equation in-universe or by Horikoshi so that removes the cisheteronormativity element and that's why it's such a good ship and their interactions and little bits/hints across material are basically a japanese romance fantasy that's healthy and positive for men AND women)

This really gets under white western gays' skin because poc4poc romances make them uncomfortable since they 'can't relate to them'(see how they react to western shows making poc4poc ships canon instead of pairing up one of them with a white character and even just woc x white boy endgames instead white gay boy ships that were never even hinted at)so they whitewash Shouto and Momo's characters to make them act like white queer people,as if queer poc don't exist and when there's nothing stopping TODOMOMO from being a queer ship and as an afrolatino queer person,you cannot convince me Todomomo isn't also a transgender abd autistic4autistic love story just like it is a poc4poc one.Shouto and Momo are trans autistic asians so Tdmm is a t4t autistic4autistic asian ship,not 'heteronormative' because they're not palpable to white american gays.This is why it's so popular with Bnha fans who're actually asian,older asian women especially and y'all's colonizer asses got some fucking audacity clowning them for it because you assume they're all cishets cause just like with Shouto and Momo,you don't think poc can be queer and are homophobes who hate trans people BECAUSE they're poc.Ntm i've literally never gotten hate for my Todomomo headcanons INCLUDING that i see Shouto as part bangladeshi on Rei's side and Momo as a blasian latina from Todomomo shippers and in fact i've gotten tons of support from them because they think they make sense and are super cute

Todomomo is a good ship and i'd go as far to call it the best Bnha ship,if not THE best shonen ship fullstop.Y'all are just racist

[ben-talks-art]

Really interesting premise I kinda want to see more of: "Women who can see a person's true nature"

I was thinking about this after hearing the story of this one girl who was struggling to keep friendship with all her guy friends because she found out many of them were only hanging out with her cause they wanted to date her.

This is a different take on the mind-reading premise that many stories like to do that I feel has good potential for social commentary and storytelling options.

The idea would be a female character having the ability to read someone's emotions, or feelings, or ulterior motives, and use this as an opportunity to show how the world looks at women, and what it feels like to be the woman being looked at like that.

A few examples of this premise can be seen in Cassandra Cain's Batgirl, who has the ability to read people through their body language and she gets to see how Superboy looks at her when she's at the beach.

In Mousou Telepathy, the main lead can read people's minds and accidentally finds out the boy that sits next to her in class has some rather specific thoughts about her.

In the manga "First Love Zombie" (which isn't exactly a good series, btw, but I needed examples to make this point 🤷), the main female character has the power to see who someone's first love is, and to many boys around her, that first love was her, and she felt so overwhelmed by the way people looked and lusted after her even at an early age that she decided to hide she was a girl to feel safe and comfortable.

In "Two Weeks And Counting," the female lead has a power that lets her see people as bugs whenever they hold some sort of "ill will" towards her.

Usually manifesting when they want to harm her or take advantage of her, which ends up happening so much that she eventually struggles to find normal-looking people anywhere she looks.

Basically, I think this type of premise can lead to some good stories and good messages as well as some good breakdown of the objectification of women in the eyes of many, but people usually don't focus on that that much when they use it in a story.

It's usually used to make a female character go "Oh! So many men are dangerous, but that one specific guy is decent and will treat her well!" when I would actually like to see a person learning about how a woman is being seen and had to reflect on it.

Reflect on why they're looked at like that, what they can do to be better, what they can do to help them out, what the people who look at women like that look like when they act like that, and so on...

I think there's really good potential here to tackle some heavy but important themes if this were to be tackled by someone who truly knows how to talk about this subject.

(Edit)

Screw it, I'm gonna try doing it myself. Just wrote a script for a future chapter of my comic tackling this idea. Hopefully it turns out as good as I hoped for once I get there 🙏

[variousqueerthings]

Can I be a teeny tiny bit terrified

ghosts! mysterious creatures! misty forests! psychics! good ingredients, it's "Hide"

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 7/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 6/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 6/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 8/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 9/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 6/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 9/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 6/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 6/10

FULL RATING: 73/100 (if I can count….)

this one's a bit hard to rate, because I don't strictly think all of these needed to be very high, but there were definitely things -- more related to pacing than anything -- that could be improved upon

OBJECTIFICATION: there are three ladies in this episode, Clara of course, Emma Grayling, and the witch-ghost (who is actually a time traveller/spacefarer called Hila) all of whom are chill. Honestly feels like we're beating the curse of the Kissogram at this point!

PLOT-POINT: sooo Emma is kind of mainly there to be psychic/empathic -- she does feel feelings about it, and to be fair, the other guy isn't a super fleshed out character either

Clara has some feelings about being very scared but still quite brave, so she doesn't feel emotionally vacant from the episode + she gets this cryptic warning about the Doctor from Emma (he has a sliver of ice in his heart), which at least gives her a bit of POV

but there's still that annoying overhanging "Clara is a mystery" which is the whole reason it turns out they're there, even though it only comes up at the end + we do get a bit of how Clara might feel about the concept of ghosts, as she questions the Doctor about how they see people -- both living and dead at the same time, all the time: "to you I havent been born yet. And to you I’ve been dead 100 billion years. Is my body out there in the ground? To you I’m a ghost… we’re all ghosts to you. We must be nothing."

it gives the idea of her being introduced as "a mystery" a tad more depth, because in some ways all mortality is a mystery to the Doctor

Hila's interiority is on the whole less explored, which I think is a bit of a shame, because this episode has a bit of pacing drag here and there, which could have been used instead to give her a bit more depth

COMPLEXITY: this is another thing related to the pacing, although it doesn't annoy me much, I will bring it up! for pedanticism! there's a mystery about a ghost that's actually something bleeding through from a pocket universe, so they go there, bring her back, the Doctor is stuck there and it's oooh the creature there is spoooky, and then that kind of takes awhile, and then right at the end we squeeze in the actual plottwist, which is that there are two creatures trying to find their way back to each other

there's a lot of travelling forwards and backwards in time with the Tardis to first discover that Hila is the ghost, which in itself isn't bad + gives the quite neat interaction about people seeming like ghosts to the Doctor generally, but then once they're in the forest it's made out to be creepy in a way that doesn't quite pay off, and spends a looot of time on, comparatively

and there's never enough time given to looking at the creature, until the very last shot (which! I do love!)

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: soooo Clara is "just" an ordinary girl, confirmed. and Clara is getting some insight into how the Doctor might see mortality, and having some kind of feelings about that

COMPANIONS MATTER: yeah, she's very proactive! so proactive in fact that she calls the Tardis a cow, twice! it made me gasp, I tell you, but actually an antagonistic relationship with the Tardis is quite a fun change (also possibly slightly related to her being a Time Anomaly - the Tardis isn't a fan of those, canonically)

anyway she strongarms the Tardis into helping her help the Doctor, which is quite fun. also this little interaction, when the Doctor asks her to accompany him ghost hunting in the spooky house:

The Doctor, after she's willfully not engaging with him: Im giving you a face. Can you see me? Look at my face Clara, giving in: Fiiine. .. dare me! The Doctor, grinning: I dare you. No take-backsies

it's very siblings energy, I enjoy that she's not just running into everything without caring of the danger. sometimes you're scared!

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: the Doctor gets this one wrong so many times, it's a running gag. one more win for the "just some guy" Doctor fans!

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: there's a fair few Easter Eggs to both Classic!who and Nu!who in it, which is fun if you know what to look for

“SEXINESS”: SIMILARLY ARE WE FREE OF THE CURSE!???

INTERNAL WORLD: a tad rockier, big spooky house, interesting backstories to the characters, check, then pocket universe of spooky forest, cooolcoolcool, but there's something a little sparse about it for me. Nitpicky, but this is the rating to nitpick with!

POLITICS: mmmmm I guess don't judge a book by its cover, and sometimes the spooky alien is actually just not someone you're used to seeing. otherwise kind of a simplistic episode on the whole, although I like the link between the young woman who describes herself as an "assistant" and her many times great granddaughter who's a space pioneer

(although, I've gotta be honest, there was a moment where I wish we could have cut out the guy and made this a lesbian cross-time romance instead, it would have been great and focused the episode a little!)

FULL RATING: 73/100 (if I can count….)

the biggest best thing of this episode is the cool alien design, and also the space-faring woman who is thought to be a ghost, and these are unfortunately the bits we get the least of. but that's not to say this episode is terrible

it's a very fun little episode, with more bits between Clara and the Doctor exploring their dynamic, as well as Clara and the Tardis! (not enough companions have a lot of feelings about the Tardis in my opinion, if I were travelling in the Tardis I'd be cooing over her 24/7)

anyway, another strong contender in the second half of the season!

[mangodestroyer]

Don't get me wrong. I love form fitting clothes and shorts and all that. But I'm sadly finding myself falling so in love with baggy ass hoodies.

Why? I'm naturally a DDD (even when thin), and very obviously curvaceous too, with wide hips and everything. Obviously, it's not my choice that I'm like this. It's 100% genetic. But now that I've been... putting myself out there a lot more in recent years, I've come to realize just how BAD the objectification and hatred is towards this kind of body.

Sometimes, it's fictional female characters being drawn less curvaceous because they're too "inappropriate." Or it's men randomly harassing me when I go out in public. Or it's women getting catty with me out of nowhere (even though I am mostly gay for women so... not even in the same competition...). Or it's people looking at me weird when I say I sometimes/do currently feel more boyish/androgynous. Or I'm just now coming to terms with the fact that my ex was super obsessed with complimenting my figure 95% of the time and pretty much nothing else (it wasn't a good relationship). Or that anyone who has hit on me/asked me out literally knew nothing about me, yet seemed super intensely interested in an overwhelming/off-putting way.

Seriously, I've had tons of people notice just that. Not even knowing what color my eyes are, even when they know me super well. But even when I was super young and still developing in that way, just... making comments about my tits.

And also just noticing that some of those women I've known who complain about being small seem to have no issue finding a respectful partner/friendships that span many, many years. Ngl, it does sadden me a little because ofc I'd love to get close to someone who seriously appreciates my personality and all that. But I'm afraid it hasn't been much of a draw for people (or at least, this is what I've been told very frequently by a handful of people growing up, and during my early adulthood, so the loneliness and failed interpersonal relationships hurt that much more).

No, I'm not ashamed of the way I look. I'm just disgusted and jaded by the reactions this body type causes. And feel so badly for other people who have to deal with this (but also relieved to know it isn't just me). I would just like to hide my body so it's no longer a factor in how people interact with me.

[rebeccaheyman]

An unfortunate exception

Review: I'm The Girl by Courtney Summers (Wednesday Books/Macmillan Audio, 13 September 2022)

It had to happen eventually: Courtney Summers has written a book I didn't actually like. The writing is wonderful, and the gritty violence hiding just below the surface of a seemingly quotidian world is there, too -- both hallmarks of what makes Summers so great. But I'm The Girl relies heavily on our ability to believe in a place and people whose rarified wealth and status make them untouchable -- and in some ways, unbelievable. Books like Sadie and The Project hit hard because they seemed to shine a light on dark, twisted parts of our culture that nonetheless felt true. I'm the Girl doesn't ring with truth in the same way, and the story overall suffers for it.

Three-sentence summary: Sixteen-year-old Georgia Avis dreams of being an Aspera Girl -- one of the elite, beautiful few who work the "executive floor" of the titular club on the edge of her small town. But her mission to join their ranks is interrupted by tragedy, when Georgia discovers the body of a 13-year-old girl on the road to Aspera. After a too-close encounter with the killer, Georgia teams up with the victim's sister to uncover the truth behind the brutal murder, only to discover that wealth, power, and complicity too often leave the truth woefully far out of reach.

Georgia is a frustratingly unlikeable character who reads younger than her 16 years. Sadly, I think she's probably emblematic of too many young women raised on a steady diet of patriarchy, objectification, diet/beauty culture, systemic racism, and poverty. But her single-minded focus on becoming an Aspera Girl makes her seem more unhinged than the average teen, and simultaneously less sympathetic. More than anything, Georgia is a victim of circumstances far beyond her control, and I'm The Girl is a stark reminder that we need to advocate for all victims -- especially minors -- regardless of whether they're especially likable.

Summers is known for tackling difficult issues in her books and exposing violence against girls and women, but I hope she doesn't lose sight of the fact that her first purpose is to tell great stories. Like some other recent YA thrillers -- e.g., Ace of Spades, The Mary Shelley Club -- I'm The Girl relies on the portrayal of power and wealth so great, it makes those who have it untouchable; and while this is likely a reality for some (Epstein and Weinstein, I'm looking at you), the truth of it is already stranger than fiction.

Lori Prince does a fine job voicing a substantial cast. Even listening at 1.5x speed, her inflection and emotion were crystal clear. 

Thank you to SMP/Wednesday Books and Macmillan Audio for the advance eBook and audio copies. 

[yinlikesbooksandtea]

For more context please read this fic by the lovely @cinnamonest . They're an amazing writer !!! You might not understand the fic if you don't read it so please do !

Warning : HEAVY misogyny . Sexist world building . Kidnapping . Forced marriage . Objectification

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 : Hide yourself girlie

- " Deepen your voice . "

Father always reminded you .

- " Always wear your binder . "

He reprimanded .

- " Hide your hair and wear baggier clothes . "

He scolded .

- " Learn to wield the blade or die by it . "

Father was always cold and stoic with you . He was the same with mother . He was an old Fatui soldier that retired after the birth of his daughter . He was strict . He never showed it but he cared . Growing up in a world where the birthrates of girls were rare . Seeing the birth of his daughter downright scared him . With all the years of him being a soldier . He's seen how young girls your age were treated . Getting beaten , sold , abused , assaulted . It scared him when you were born . He was determined to protect you . Raising you to be a boy since it was dangerous to be a girl . With such a scarce ratio of men to women . Who wouldn't be scared for their daughter ?

You should be grateful mother would say . You should be grateful that you lived in Snezhnaya and not some other region . Seeing as Snezhnaya was ruled by the Tsaritsa and not an archon which was born a male . There were rules that were enforced to protect the women but they failed . Mostly because those rules were mostly enforced by male authority that swept the cases of kidnapping young girls and illegal brothels under the rug . The Tsaritsa didn't do much as her highness was too focused on accomplishing her goals of taking down the divine .

Growing up you understood why you and mother were always locked at home . Even if you went out , your hair was always hidden by a hood or cape , your chest being binded carefully , wearing thick layers of clothing to hide your curves , lowering your voice , speaking in monotone to sound more like a man . Meanwhile mother always had a cape covering her face as she looked down on her feet her hands tightly clinging onto your father . You've seen the way men looked at your mother while you passed by them in the markets . Seeing as Snezhnaya was ruled by the Tsaritsa and not an archon which was born a male . There were rules that were enforced to protect the women but they failed . Mostly because those rules were mostly enforced by male authority that swept the cases of kidnapping your girls and illegal brothels under the rug . The Tsaritsa didn't do much as her highness was too focused on accomplishing her goals of taking down the divine .

Growing up you understood why you and mother were always locked at home . Even if you went out , your hair was always hidden by a hood or cape , your chest being binded carefully , wearing thick layers of clothing to hide your curves , lowering your voice , speaking in monotone to sound more like a man . Meanwhile mother always had a cape covering her face as she looked down on her feet her hands tightly clinging onto your father . You've seen the way men looked at your mother while you passed by them in the markets . You've seen countless girls being stared at by men . Their eyes lingering and looking at them with lust treating them as if they were objects . Seeing how there were girls being kidnapped to be brides because of how rare women were . Seeing the illegal brothels rich men would pay to get in just because they were desperate . Seeing there were legal auctions by the Fatui selling young girls like they were property . Seeing how your closest friend was forced into a marriage to a musty old man that could be her grandfather . You were angry . Angry that you were treated like a status for the rich . Angry that you were treated like a pet like a mere object and you were angry .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't stand not doing anything . You didn't want to rot away and hide forever . So at the ripe age of 19 you joined the Fatui . Where you were known as manwhore .

You were the favourite of La Signora . Being born in a world where women were so scarce , being the favourite of the beautiful Crimson Witch of Flames gained you lots of attention . Every Harbinger had their personal lover that they had stolen somehow . Scaramouche's was a Fatui soldier that was crossdressing like you . Dottore had kidnapped his from Mondtsat . Pedrolino forcefully married a nobleman's daughter . It wasn't a surprised that you were labeled as La Signora's lover . Your fellow comrades often looked at you with envy with their eyes , mocking you for being so close with her . After years of being in the Fatui you earned your place in her small division and you were proud to work for her . You were her secretary and you were proud that she chose you . She was the only reason why you survived in this hell they call Teyvat . You'd lay your life for her.

Just when you had joined the Fatui you were inexperienced often lacking behind your male counterparts . Even though father had always taught you swordsmanship . There was no use when you were lacking behind in running or fighting physically against your male counterparts . People noticed . People would make jokes of you , make inappropriate comments about how pretty you were , that they would fuck you if or even't if you were a girl . A particular harbinger had their eyes set on you before for looking more feminine . Thankfully another poor girl had caught the 6th Harbingers eyes before he revealed your secrets . But that didn't mean you were safe . Lucky for you always managed to sneak away to take showers on your own or change on your own instead of the public bathrooms and public dorms . Multiple times have you contemplated quiting but before you did . She noticed you . She noticed the feminine features that you buried underneath yourself for years . Your hidden femininity in your posture , the way you spoke . You reminded her of the days where she hid herself as a man to join the Fatui .

That's where it all started . A subordinate of hers dragged you to her office . She sat there in all her glory sipping her tea , asking you to sit .

- " Drop the act . "

Your heart dropped at those words . Cold sweat running down your back . Was she going to report you ? Were you going to become one of those service girls given to those soldiers ? Were you going to die ? Anxious thoughts scrambled through your brain , so your only resolution was to play dumb .

- " My lady I don't understand what you're talking about . "

- " I know you're a women and you did a good job hiding it . "

Fear and anxiety was running through your veins . Signora seemed to notice your anxiousness and offered you a seat with some tea . She had a warm smile on her face when she took a glance at you .

- " I joined the Fatui like you . Dressing up as a man . I rose through the ranks as a man before I revealed myself to be a women once I gained enough power . One day I hope you gain enough power to stand proud as a women . "

And the rest was history . Once you revealed yourself to her , she took you under her wing . Put you in her small division and guided you . Often times training you in the middle of the night . Every night she would send her subordinates to retrieve you . There was when the rumors started of you being a manwhore . People always saw you come out of her room in the early mornings or late nights with wet hair assuming you both were lovers . But the truth was you only went to her room to take showers and have sleep overs . The only time that you truly felt safe to be a women was when you were with her . She was cold and stoic with others but she was never like that with you .

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

Part 2 : I see you

Part 3 !!

I don't like Signora but for the sake of the fic I have to . Also I forgot I had this in my draft for like two weeks ??? Reader will be meeting Childe in part 2 . This is only some buildup ! Not beta read . Since I have no one to send this too ;-;

Edit : I forgot to add the content warning !

Gosh , I'm sorry !

[nsr-scrapped-records]

do you think 1010 and neon j ever like, wonder whether they are more human than robot or robot than human? like neon must feel this really hard since a lot of him is no longer human. but 1010 also probably don't feel entirely robotic. like if they have emotions and personalities then how do they cope with knowing that they are basically property of neon? even though neon treats them like family and people? it must mess with all of them but at least they have each other in this.

I keep bringing up the Ship of Theseus because I do genuinely believe it is something almost anyone would struggle with. You've got the memory, but could technically transcribe it into a new form and have a duplicate of you. The second that duplicate makes a decision different than you, it is no longer you, but their own person.

If you've had to replace the entirety of your form, how do you know that you're making those same decisions you would have before? Are you the same you? Just how different are you? Can you truly compare yourself to the person you were before? What if he never went to war? What if he chose to die? Would it have been better? Would it have changed anything about the war? What ifs and would its all running away from the little "did"

And robots. Androids? What makes him different from an it? Are they really considered sentient? They're not really alive, but they are alive, but they aren't, yes, no, yes.

Recognizing that you are something artificial. And therefore not real. Would probably cause some issues the further you dive into it. If you were a "real person", would they care for you more? Would they treat you different? Different? Different? That's what you are, it's different. In the public eye, you are nothing but an object, and, to be so famous with such a fanbase, that objectification would be strong and prevelant in their lives. As a constant, it may not be something they think about much, but some days.

Some days you can't really hide from the idea that if you broke you could be easily replaced, and others you cant help but wonder if your "father" really cares as much as he says, because you're just a bunch of 1s and 0s and screws and wires that he stitched together.

[hobipd-remade]

there's a massive difference between girls expressing their sexuality and men objectifying and sexualising women for no reason? the fact that you can't tell the difference is worrying, to be honest. i'd suggest educating yourself before passing judgement on anyone, especially since you don't know the difference between sexism and sexualisation. yeah, it's not appropriate for young girls to be saying sexual shit to that extent, but they're not inherently bad people for doing it? my god

First of all, I want to clarify that regardless of age; objectification is wrong. 

However, it is concerning just how many underage bloggers and young people do partake in objectification while decrying the actions of others that mirror their own. Like, where does that even make sense? This whole nonsense about “nutting” and “leaking”. How can say that men do it for no reason… and yet you somehow are? I think you need to do some heavy soul searching and reverse whom you’re talking about here. Be honest with yourself if you talk this way. 

Sexism is discrimination and prejudice based on your gender. Sexualisation is to bring something in its definition down to one of a sexual nature – or in other words – objectifying them.

Same as men can bring women down to just existing as breasts or their ass, girls, and a lot of them, will bring men down to just their abs, their butts, their thighs, their arms, and even their freaking foreheads. Especially in fans of k-idols. So I would not even try to say that what you girls are doing is nothing like what men do and that I need to go educate myself. It sounds like what you need to do is to take a breath and look in a mirror and really know who you are and what you are doing.

I did not mean that these girls are “bad people,” for saying these things, but it is my opinion that these are not things anyone should be doing or saying regardless of age or gender. I’m disgusted because the culture of today is promoting these kinds of perceptions while at the same time creating animosity and division. Like fine if that is the way you want to feel – alright. Go and objectify someone – man or woman. But I would not go and point a finger at someone else (aka those men who are doing it for no reason at all) for doing exactly what you are doing as well. I think these kinds of comments and views are gross, but what is even more disgusting is your hypocritical judgements. 

Come off anon if that’s the way you feel. Obviously if you are in the right, you would feel strong in your convictions, right? Instead of hiding?

My god.