#how they think writing assertively is all they need to make your point

[they-call-me-hippie]

Yeah I can tell people have lost their grasp on basic ongoing forms of oppression when they say things like "hatred of men and masculinity is one of the reasons trans women, BIPOC and Jewish men are persecuted" like what a non-sequiteur. Imagine being so ignorant of power structures in your attempt to """progressively""" defend men that you become transphobic

#Truly astounding. Your brain is empty read a book on transphobia instead. Acclimate yourself to that concept #Try moving on to misogyny next. You might learn things there! Like actual feminism! #Now for a real challenge: try out this wholly new intersection of oppressions called transmisogyny #And then Look Out To The World. See What It Has To Say About Men And The Preferred Gender To Rule #You know it would be funny how bad people have become in writing an argumentative text on here if it wasn't so sad to see #how they think writing assertively is all they need to make your point #People online will posit any observation as an immutable fact of reality when it’s just their misconceptions contributing to a flawed view #of the world #Even if it would be quickly deconstructed by actual theoretical frameworks like feminism 101 and intersectionalism and privilege theory #They don't even know they don't know. What a Dunning-Kruger effect. It's become Plato's cave in here #Anyways you might see that post out in the wild. Exciting! #Also how would that first point even apply. Literally the only ones who might fit in are transphobic women but then you might notice #It's not the man-hate that's directly responsible for the transphobia! #Now I'm not a fan of negative feminism posting more than anyone else but if I have to keep seeing that garbage you'll have to keep hearing #me insult this. The least it deserves after making me mad Online

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios touden #shuro #toshiro nakamoto #the winged lion #autistic #autism #clay writes #i GUESS #this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden #i wuont angry autistic rep..

[floralpascal]

Lines Crossed

Summary: Ghost realizes that he needs you more than he thought and makes a risky trip to your room while trying not to get caught.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship, Ghost realizing that he's absolutely whipped

A/N: The idea of Ghost being whipped just took over my mind and this is what came out. This was so much fun to write that I'm thinking about making this a mini series looking at various points in their relationship

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

There were lines Ghost didn’t cross.

He didn’t get involved. He didn’t let himself care. And he sure as hell didn’t let himself need someone.

For you, though, he seemed to be willing to cross every single line imaginable whether he liked it or not. He had gotten involved, telling himself then that it was just a one-time thing. He would get his fill of you for a night and he would be done, finally able to get you off of his mind. But that hadn’t been how it had gone down. Having you once only let the hold you had on him dig in deeper, settling in his bones until he found himself in your bed again. And again.

With each secret night spent in your room or his, a shitty hotel or a secluded backroom, whatever this was with you pulled him deeper into the unknown. His thoughts drifted to you even when you weren’t in the room. He found himself being more protective of you in the field. He began to check in on you enough that Soap had finally said, “Styx will be fine, Ghost. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.” Soon, he had to finally admit that he had crossed the second line. He cared.

The third line…

Ghost groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. Staring into the darkness of his room for hours with sleep evading his grasp, he was starting to grow both restless and frustrated. Having trained himself to fall asleep under any conditions in order to scrape together any amount of sleep he could while in the field, his newfound difficulties falling asleep were an unwelcome surprise. It had plagued him for the last month, making him markedly more irritable - enough to draw the entire team’s attention. He had blown off Price when he had carefully broached the subject, asserting that there was nothing wrong at all. Lie.

It was your bloody fault. It was your face that kept him up at night in one way or another. It was the way you looked when your head was tipped back, your mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked you. It was the way you looked out in the field, your strong shoulders square and hard eyes trained forward as you held your gun and swept a building. It was your pained grimace as Ghost tried to stop the bleeding from the bullet you had taken to the stomach a year ago.

His head filled with a mix of scenes of bliss and scenes of horror, both of which you were the star of. Either way, it kept his brain whirring enough to ward away sleep. His mind was a whirlwind, fast and screaming and disorienting with the thought of you.

You were barely fifty meters away from him right now, your own room merely on the other side of the corridor. He couldn’t believe he was imagining walking down to your room now, in the middle of the night with everyone else in their own rooms right down the hall. It was dumb and reckless and-

And the thought alone made him feel better.

The thought of your skin on his, your hands buried in his hair, and your mouth on his was like a forbidden salve to his irritation. Having you under him, so vibrant and alive, chased away all the scenes of you in danger that his mind seemed to love to conjure up these days.

Irrational thoughts plagued him now, too. What if something was wrong with you? What if you were hurt? Forget the fact that they were on a secure base or that he had seen you only hours earlier, it didn’t matter to Ghost’s brain in the dark like this. Though he logically knew that his thoughts were irrational figments of his overactive mind, his body didn’t seem to be getting the memo.

It was like he wasn’t convinced you were safe until he saw you himself. Until he felt the plush of your skin under his fingers.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, practically dumbfounded by his own decision, as he forcefully flung the covers from his body. He grabbed the balaclava from his nightstand, slipping the soft cloth over his face before throwing a random shirt over his bare torso.

The corridor was empty at this time of night, but Ghost stayed vigilant anyways. He crept toward your door, eyes on the other gray doors that housed the rest of the 141. He had never been this bold, this reckless, as to try to slip into your room when everyone was asleep in their own rooms right beside yours, usually limiting your nights together to when the other guys went out to a pub or split up to go on leave. If anyone caught him - your superior - slipping into your room in the middle of the night, there would surely be hell to pay. Yet, he couldn’t stop.

With one last look at the empty, monochrome hallway, he found the handle to your door and slipped soundlessly into your room.

Despite the fact that he had been quiet, you seemed to sense the intrusion. Your eyes snapping open, you pushed your top half up from the pillow, your body tense like you were ready for a fight. You leaned forward and flicked on the bedside lamp.

Your eyes landed on Ghost and he watched as you relaxed again, your sleep-heavy eyes softening as they held his gaze.

“Ghost…” you whispered, clearly as astounded by his presence in your room as he was.

Everything in him screamed that this was a bad idea. That he should go back to his room before he made any more bad decisions. But then you smiled at him, easy and warm and inviting. No bad decision could look like that.

“You okay?” You asked, voice light and laced with sleep. It was concern, though, that sat behind your words. Concern for him, genuine and raw.

Ghost felt something in him crack at that question. Something he knew he wouldn’t come back from.

With two quick strides across your room, he crossed that third line.

In the pale yellow light of the lamp, he pulled the balaclava from his head, letting the cloth fall to the floor. He was already climbing above you in the bed as your eyes snapped wide and you scanned his face for the first time, taking in his features above you. Him. You finally saw him.

Ghost’s breathing picked up as you lifted a hand to his cheek and ran a thumb over his cheek. He had wondered what you would look like if you ever saw him without the mask. Somehow, he had never never expected that you would look at him so tenderly. It seemed wrong that anyone could look at someone as cold and hardened as Ghost like this. But, fuck, it was doing things to him.

When he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he slammed his lips into yours. You returned the kiss with a fire that made everything worth it. The blood. The explosions. The secrecy. The sleepless nights.

“Am now,” he mumbled against your lips. He couldn’t say anything else, he could only let the fire he had for you take over and burn everything left in him.

You melted into his affections, immediately grabbing onto his shoulders as he stripped your mouth bare. The little sounds you made spurred him on, making him feel better than he had the entire night. Forget sleep, he could live solely fueled by this.

Then, your hands slid up into his hair, tugging at the mask-flattened strands. A groan fell from Ghost’s lips as he started to fumble for the hem of your shirt, needing you freed from it immediately. He needed to feel you against him, as close as you possibly could be. Needed you wrapped around him in every possible way.

Need. Need. Need. It was a terrifying, unstoppable feeling.

As you both discarded your clothes, your hands desperately searching for skin, Ghost couldn’t help but think of how apt your nickname was. Styx. A mythological river, threatening to pull him under, the waters that he was drowning in also making him damn near invulnerable to all else in the world, save for his one spot of vulnerability. You.

The Styx was believed to be at the edge of the earth and the underworld, you had told him once. Being with you felt kind of like that, he supposed. Like he was at the edge of reality and the mythological. Something he never thought he would have compared to the reality of you underneath him.

Your lips wiped the fucked up worries from his mind, your hands grounding him in the raging current.

You let out a moan as Ghost slipped two fingers into you, trying to get you ready for him as quickly as possible tonight. He clamped a large hand over your mouth as he started to pump his fingers in and out.

“Keep quiet, love,” he purred into your ear, knowing exactly what his low, gravelly voice did to you. Your fingers came to clamp down on his shoulder in your desperation. “We don’t want any interruptions.”

You nodded, your eyes locking with his for a moment before they fluttered closed. He watched you like this, lost in bliss, and tried to commit the image to memory. He would store it away for another cold, lonely night when he couldn’t be here with you, when sleep evaded him.

He so desperately wanted to hear you - to hear the way he could make you scream out his name - but he knew it wasn’t possible right now. Your muffled groans and the way you tipped your head back as he curled his fingers into you would have to suffice.

“So wet for me, love,” he whispered into your ear as he increased his pace, feeling how close you were to the edge as your velvety walls fluttered around him. “Were you thinking about me?”

You jerked your head in a nod, his hand stifling another choked moan from your lips. The sincerity in your movement sent his ego soaring in a way he had never experienced before. Fucking hell, he had never experienced anything like this before. You had a frightening power over him, a grip on his very being that was so deep he didn’t think he could detach it and still survive.

It was terrifying and thrilling and oh-so wonderful.

You shattered under his touch, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you rode out the waves of pleasure he was bringing you. Your hand grasped at his forearm, searching for anything that could steady you.

When you came down and released him from your grip, your eyes fluttered back open. Through your haze, your eyes found his, a want deeper than just lust pouring from your expression. He couldn’t take it anymore. He fucking needed you.

Ghost tore his hand away from your mouth before he crashed his lips to yours again, all heat and fervor. You met him halfway, pushing up to run a hand through his hair. You had done this before in the dark, but it felt even more intense now that you knew what it looked like. What he looked like. You weren’t kissing a faceless man, you were kissing him.

“Simon…” you whined against his lips. “Please.”

Years ago, when you had first met, he wouldn’t have believed that he would ever hear you like this. Usually when you talked, your voice was strong. Unwavering. Fit for a battlefield. To hear you beg for him like this, your words strained, broken, and laced with desire, was something reverent.

He buried his cock in you in one smooth stroke, his lips still on yours. It was still a stretch to fit him, but it was always a stretch. From the very beginning his pace was brutal, his hips slamming into yours over and over. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise so he could hold you in place while he hit the spot deep inside you that always had you breaking for him. He knew he had found it when your legs boxed his hips in and your hips jerked up to meet his thrusts. Your heels rested on his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper into you.

You were squeezing him so tight as he pounded into your sweet cunt that for the first time all night, his head was clear. All that existed was you and the growing heat in his stomach.

Ghost dropped his head down to your neck, his teeth nipping at the soft, delicate flesh at the base of it as one of his hands released its hold on your hip to find your clit. He knew exactly what to do to send you over the edge again, exactly how hard to press, how tight of circles to draw.

“F-fuck, Simon, I’m g-gonna-” you stuttered out, unable to finish your own sentence. But he knew. He could feel how close you were, the tension drawn tight that was about to snap.

His own rhythm was growing sloppy, the pleasure about to take him under. With a few more calculated thrusts, you came once again, your whole body spasming around him. Your hands clawed at his back as your pussy squeezed him so hard it took him with you. A zap of electricity raced down his spine as he released into you, hot and thick. He fucked it into you, so deep he was sure you would still feel him at breakfast tomorrow morning.

He was so fucked. He had crossed every line and now there was no turning back. There was no stopping this anymore. He needed you. Maybe it was wrong to hope that you needed him just as much, but he did.

Ghost panted against your collar, letting the soft, methodical way you drew circles on his scalp pull him back to reality. Back to you.

He pulled out and rolled over onto the bed, pulling you with him. After taking a few minutes to clean you up, he pulled you to lay on top of him. With his arms around you and the feel of your steady breathing against his chest, sleep finally found him and pulled him under.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #my writing

[hunny-bean]

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle fanfiction #punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #frank castle x matt murdock x reader

[blacknedsoul-blog]

A detailed explanation from my headcanon that Annabel has ADHD

So I had this six fucking hour trip. On a bus. Alone. And I was bored out of my mind, because sitting around being bored is as close to mental torture as it gets for me.

Fortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel: I was inspired. Away from the burnout I have with fanfics, I remembered that I've mentioned this headcanon several times on Nevermore's Discord and just thought, what better time to talk about ADHD than when I'm having a pretty ADHD moment?

But before I start, there are a few little things that need to be pretty clear on the table:

I'm being a bit hypocritical here: in general, I'm deeply against diagnosing fictional characters for two reasons: first, it's an impossible task to distinguish between character traits and symptoms to such an extent that you can go around forever without coming to a real conclusion unless the author of the work confirms it, and second, even if you have the disorder you're talking about, you can fall into the trap of perpetuating stereotypes or generalizing, thereby invalidating other experiences. So even if the tone of this review sounds very assertive, it is because of my writing style. I am in no way diagnosing Annabel; this is an analysis of her character through the lens of a possible disorder.

In relation to the above, where I point out an event in the comic that can be read as a symptom, I am not reducing it to "this only happens because she has ADHD". You CAN'T reduce a person's personality to "they has a disorder," and when I point out these examples, I'm not doing so with the intention of denying the background behind it, but rather pointing out how, under the magnifying glass of having it, it might exacerbate that behavior.

I am NOT a psychologist, a psychiatrist, or a neurologist: I am a woman with ADHD. One who has done a lot of research on the subject, been in therapy with a psychologist who specializes in the disorder, and talked extensively about it both with friends who also have it and with professionals. But I don't have a career in mental health, I don't pretend to, and everything you'll read below is a mixture of research and personal experience.

You're going to see a lot of "we" or "those of us with ADHD" because, as I said, I have it too, but this is all a generalization made for the sake of flow. The symptoms of this disorder can be expressed in many different ways, and not everyone has all of them (for example, there are some that I don't have, but it would be strange to change the voice of the text just because of that, it makes it harder to read). If you have ADHD and read a symptom and think "hey, I don't get that", that's perfectly normal. Your experience is valid and I don't want to pass it on. But it would be exhausting for me and for the reader to use tentative phrases all the time.

If this text resonates too much with you, I strongly recommend that you see a professional, if you're able, and not self-diagnose: ADHD has many symptoms in common with autism and other neuro divergences, don't risk misdiagnosis.

If you have a different opinion than mine on this subject and want to share it with me, I'll be happy to read it, if I don't answer it's because I forgot (forgive me?). But you can be sure that I will read it.

Anyway, let's get started.

What is ADHD?

According to the NIH (National Institute of Mental Health) website, this is the definition of ADHD:

Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is marked by an ongoing pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity-impulsivity that interferes with functioning or development. People with ADHD experience an ongoing pattern of the following types of symptoms:

Inattention means a person may have difficulty staying on task, sustaining focus, and staying organized, and these problems are not due to defiance or lack of comprehension.

Hyperactivity means a person may seem to move about constantly, including in situations when it is not appropriate, or excessively fidgets, taps, or talks. In adults, hyperactivity may mean extreme restlessness or talking too much.

Impulsivity means a person may act without thinking or have difficulty with self-control. Impulsivity could also include a desire for immediate rewards or the inability to delay gratification. An impulsive person may interrupt others or make important decisions without considering long-term consequences.

Here is an impression that needs to be clarified: ADHD is more about an inability to regulate attention than a lack of it. A neurotypical person may choose to focus on a task to get it done, we may procrastinate to death because even if we want to, we can't focus on it, or stand there absorbed in it ad infinitum until the house falls down around us (and we may still have trouble noticing). This is understood, Understanding all this, here is the list of Annabel's behaviors that could be interpreted as symptoms.

Hyperactivity

One thing that not everyone knows is that hyperactivity is not about running around like an uncontrolled animal. It can manifest itself in many ways, and there are many types: physical, mental, and even emotional.

In Annabel's case, she seems to be the first two types.

Perhaps due to her difficulty in expressing emotions, it is quite obvious at this point in the comic that her moods are made explicit through gestures: playing with her rings when she is happy or nervous, touching the ribbon around her neck in moments of anxiety, or playing with her hair almost as a default state.

Annabel.

Doesn't.

Sit.

Still.

Never.

It is also clear that Annabel is always planning something. Always.

This can be read into the logic of mental hyperactivity: when you have it, your brain just doesn't stop. Ever. And that's something that resonates with this lady.

Emotional Dysregulation

The part of the brain that regulates our moods works…erratically. Not to say it doesn't work at all.

This leads to a painfully common problem in women with ADHD: lack of emotional regulation is seen as drama, and instead of being taught tools to deal with it, we are taught to repress and bottle up emotions.

Annabel has highly internalized this as a defense mechanism. But here's the thing: if repressing emotions instead of learning how to deal with them in a healthy way is harmful, being biologically unable to regulate them can be even worse.

It touches the right nerves, and if you catch us flying low, it can cause explosive outbursts.

Possibly violent reactions to feeling offended or uncomfortable.

Or completely over-the-top reactions that we can't control.

And it's not just anger that's affected, it's the whole emotional spectrum. Another emotion that is very noticeable is fear. If we don't develop tools to help us calm down, we don't get scared, we panic.

If this happens too often, we can become prone to developing severe anxiety or frequent attacks.

We may also have great difficulty dealing with frustration. Our brains love rewards, and feeling that we're not getting them because of our own inability to do something can be downright annoying. And if we don't have the tools to express our frustration appropriately, we can have quite childish reactions, ranging from temper tantrums to…pouting.

I find it funny how several of these pouts are caused by Lenore, a bit like "Oh, come on, honey, what are we talking about?"

Another important thing to note here is that one of the most fucked up and notorious symptoms of this lack of emotional regulation is RSD, short for Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, defined as "a problem that interferes with your ability to regulate your emotional responses to feelings of failure and rejection. While rejection is almost always unpleasant, people with RSD experience overwhelming levels of emotional pain. This can lead to long-term mental health problems, fear of failure, and behavioral changes that negatively affect them throughout their lives."

Rejection and fear of failure are a problem for us. So much so that we may seek strategies to avoid it as much as possible, even when it causes us problems (such as not completing a task for fear of doing it wrong). This is an issue that can tear us apart emotionally.

Annabel is terrified of being rejected or despised. Her whole life has been built around appearances and getting the right people interested in her. If she can't do that, what good is she?

And that's something that comes up a lot in her relationship with Lenore. Repeatedly, in fact, but my favorite has to be this one:

Annabel thought it would be the smart thing to do to break that bond because she knows they're never going to see each other again. But the look on her face when Lenore calls her a "damn liar" is just painful to watch. I think ripping her heart out with a rusty spoon would have hurt less.

Finally, on the subject of things that aren't so funny: that thing Annabel does about biting her fingers when she's in a critical situation is something I used to do, too (only I'd bite my knuckles or palms).

My psychologist explained to me that when you feel like you're losing control, you immediately look for something to ground you, and unfortunately, physical pain is often a quick (if damaging) way to do that.

Codependency

Okay, here's a thing: it's not that we have a tendency as such to codependency, but this is a situation that can occur due to bad practices within a relationship. Especially a couple one.

As it stands out, people with ADHD can have a lot of problems with micromanaging ourselves, remembering things, dealing with our emotions, etc, etc, etc. And it is natural for close friends, family or our partner to help in those processes.

The problem arises when that help starts to become a parentification process where the partner who is providing support starts to do this on behalf of the other person, infantilizing them in the process.

This is a cocktail for resentment on both sides: the party calling the shots can easily feel that the other is putting a huge burden on their shoulders and not trying hard enough, while, on the other side, no one likes to feel like they are being treated like a child. Let alone that the person doing it is your partner.

But at the other end of resentment, there's codependency.

The constant feeling that you are a burden, insufficient or even disposable.

And that means you have a lot to make up for. On a regular basis. So much that you put yourself in a situation where you have to make horrible decisions so that someone else doesn't have to because somehow you owe it to them, who hasn't had that happen?

What I mean is that yes, Annabel feels like she owes this to Lenore because she only remembers the part where Lenore came kicking in doors to save her from a marriage she didn't want. And if she can't do this for her, she doesn't deserve a relationship.

Feeling inadequate, that your partner is doing you some kind of favor by tolerating you and ending up idealizing their in the process is obviously not unique to the neurodivergent experience.

But we try, we try really hard and, like anyone else, we like to feel that the effort we put in is seen and valued.

If we are not careful about that, we do indeed fall into the risk of becoming codependent. The desire to feel loved or valued becomes a constant hunger for validation from which it is difficult to escape because we are aware that our brain will never function in a different way. And if that is mixed with RSD, it can become an even bigger problem.

Novelty, games, challenges, and rewards

Producing dopamine on a normal basis is one thing our brains aren't very good at (one of the reasons we can be prone to depression, for example), but you know what they love? Challenges and rewards.

New things feed our endless curiosity, but for some reason unknown to me, our brains really love challenges and dares. They give us dopamine like we're on a high.

So much so that some people use it as a tactic to perform tasks they don't like: "How many dishes can I wash before my dinner is ready?", "If I can finish this in less than 30 minutes, I can go get chocolate."

One medium we may like very much for this reason is games. Board games, card games, or virtual games. It doesn't matter. Games provide a very good balance of challenge and reward.

If you see that Annabel seems overly interested in how this works, it's because there may be a part of her that thinks "aside from the deadly situation we're in…this is like the most hardcore escape room ever" and inevitably there's something here that stirs her bug.

It may be something she loves about Lenore. As a good hypocrite, Annabel despises the rules she knows so well, so when Lenore comes along with this gimmick and completely changes the paradigm of what she knows, there is inevitably something that appeals to her. Others who are good at the game look down on Lenore's disdain for the rules, to Annabel it is fucking appealing because it offers a range of unexplored possibilities that she fucking loves.

Erratic Communication

When our brains are running at full speed, communication can become a challenge, and we tend to exhibit erratic patterns.

One of these is info-dumping. Touch a topic we know about or are interested in and it's like stepping on a landmine: we explode talking about it. Non-stop. You'll have to hit us to shut us up.

Another thing is that we can have a bad habit of interrupting. A lot. It's not malicious, it's just that we're really into the conversation and want to participate as much as possible.

That said, even if we're extroverts, it can be a nightmare to withhold information or participate in a conversation if it doesn't grab our attention. It's not that we want to be disrespectful or anything, it's just that, again, we have no control over our ability to pay attention and we're swimming against the tide to hold on to whatever it is you're telling us.

This scene is something I've seen in friends with ADHD and have been told I do: stare at people while doing your best to do the hamster run to remember what they're telling you because you know it's important, even though your brain is putting it together with junk information because it's not engaging your attention in the right way.

Ignore the murderous stare part, it's not that common - at least I hope not.

Drinks that are like a pill

Our brains are not designed to produce certain hormones naturally or, in some cases, they produce them under other circumstances. For things like that, we can take pills, develop strategies to help our brains produce hormones.

And drink coffee. Lots of coffee.

Caffeine can be extremely relaxing for us because it can actually help our brains keep functioning, you know that stereotype of the highly coded ADHD character who drinks coffee like it's his life? Well, that's because.

You know what other beverage has a similar effect? Tea. Theine is also a natural activator, perhaps less aggressive than coffee, but it can have a similar effect.

If you're interested in describing this topic in fanfic or touching on it in fanart, tea should have a relaxing effect on Annabel and even help her concentrate.

Boredom

We get bored. A lot. And we get painfully bored. Here's what happens: boredom is caused by a lack of stimulation, and our brains aren't stimulated just because we can't regulate our attention to seek out that stimulation.

Add to that the fact that when we are bored, without dopamine hitting our receptors, our executive functions diminish and we function like shit.

Boredom

Is

Fucking

Murder

Because our brain starts desperately asking for dopamine and we can fall into really unhealthy behaviors like fighting, being chronically online, or eating because we can't find anything better to do. This also contributes -again- to our depression or anxiety.

Conclusions (and if I don't make the joke, I'll die)

In the book ADHD After Dark (a study of ADHD, relationships, and physical intimacy), Ari Tuckman draws some interesting conclusions, one of which is that on a statistical level, people with ADHD seem to be more likely to have what he calls "sexual eagerness": kinks, fetishes, a tendency to be adventurous in bed, and the like. Again, our brains love play, and both intimacy and flirtation can involve a lot of it.

So…

Um…

…well, I think Lenore will be happy. Good for her.

Anyway, this has been a seriously long explanation. Thanks for reading this far.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #annabel lee whitlock #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee x lenore #lennabel #nevermore webcomic

[chaithetics]

Furtive Hands

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) reader

Word count: 7.3K

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, smut, fingering, P in V intercourse, some fluff, soft but also kind of dom-ish Stewy? Vague-ish mentions of canonical childhood abuse/trauma, and toxic family dynamics, Logan makes a cameo at the start (deserves its own warning), Logan's death and grief mentioned also Roman being a bit of a douche. I think that's it?

(Reader is technically a Roy because that's how the plot/idea worked but I avoided physical descriptions other than reader having AFAB physical characteristics. You're more than welcome to canon this reader as being adopted or half-siblings with the other Roys. I try to avoid giving physical characteristics and am tempted to continue to code all my readers as readers of colour out of spite due to the lack of intersectionality in fics. My reader in A Cinematic Lover has no physical characteristics other than being chronically ill but is Desi coded.)

Author's Note: I didn't proofread all of it, whoops. This is also my first time writing Stewy and I'm not too sure how I feel about this fic. I don't feel super confident in saying that "I captured his voice" etc. But I adore Stewy Hosseini and Arian Moayed and we need more Stewy fics. Please let me know your thoughts! I'd really appreciate the feedback :)

Like being in the Roy family, being the youngest in the clan had its perks and downfalls. You’d been able to get away most of your life with your father’s wrath directed towards your older siblings but at a certain point when they’d reached adulthood before you and it was quickly redirected towards you. You and your older brother Connor were the only ones to stay out of the family business, Connor was technically more involved than you which said a lot to anyone familiar with the family’s affairs. 

Despite being the youngest it would be fair to say you were the most emotionally mature of your siblings (although you could easily admit that’s a very low bar) and the most well-adjusted (again, another relatively low bar). You were a practising clinical psychologist who had of course undergone a bunch of therapy yourself for your childhood trauma. You’d wrapped up a session and were walking a patient out before heading back into your office for your office lunch date when you were interrupted by a booming presence. 

“Dad?” You immediately questioned. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here-” 

“I thought I’d stop by. See the new office-”

“I’ve had this office for 3 years.” You interjected. 

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, he seemed almost amused at your assertive call out. You had been a louder child like Roman but unlike your brother, you became quieter as a teenager. You knew your father had assumed that was because you didn’t have whatever “deficiency” he believed Roman had and that you’d grown out of it. The reality was, that it was a trauma response and you’d learnt that life was easier with him if you were quiet and made your presence as sparse as possible. 

He’d always found playing his games with you particularly interesting due to this, you weren’t as quiet now as you were as a teenager and you weren’t as loud as you were as a child, somewhere in the middle. You could slink off at the few family gatherings you intended to not be questioned or dragged into shop talk. But you still had a known presence and you were the only one of his children who could somewhat confidently cut him off and respond to him with what he’d deem as some sense of calmness. You weren’t as pliant to him as your siblings which made his mind games all the more intriguing to him. 

“Right. Well, it’s a nice enough place.” 

“Thanks.” You bit your lip as you waited for your father to continue, he didn’t show up for no reason. 

You were trying to project a calm facade you were starting to worry for a myriad of reasons. With what was going on with your family this wouldn’t be any pure coincidence. You weren’t the most involved in the family business but you were well aware and received updates from Kendall. But there was also concern over the potential sighting of your lunchtime visitor. 

“Well dear, I need you to do something for me.” You tilted your head and your brow furrowed at his words. 

“Since when do you need favours? Specifically favours from clinical psychologists?” You questioned. 

“It’s to do with your siblings.” Logan spoke flatly as he then sat himself down on one of the armchairs in your waiting room. He was mildly irritated that you hadn’t invited him into your office and that you’d kept that room off limits for him, blocking the doorway to it. 

You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes, one thing was for sure, whatever this was, it wasn’t good. 

“Continue.” 

Logan’s eyes narrowed at you slightly as he watched you as if it was the first time he was seeing you. He was used to you being uninterested and not the way that Shiv tried to play everything cool with Logan. You were genuinely uninterested, your eyes looked cold.

You had a colder approach with your father in comparison to your siblings, it was healthier and the easiest for you to maintain without being sucked in like they were. It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone that you weren’t impressed with the confrontations that happened in your presence, your siblings had weird concepts and responses of support. But there were the built-in responses as you’d gotten older, Kendall defended and you comforted. 

Logan hadn’t always given you a great deal of attention in those moments but he was familiar with your mannerisms as he’d call them now. But today you seemed annoyed, this wasn’t an emotion that Logan felt like he’d seen from his youngest in almost a lifetime. He  found it to almost be the most interesting he’d ever found you, he mused that you must know or be hiding something. 

“Well, you grew up with Kendall, Roman and Siobhan. You understandably know them well and you have a unique skillset with your area of expertise.” He paused for a moment watching your face as he said that before continuing. 

“And?” 

“You would’ve made observations of their behaviours over the years. Symptoms-behaviours- whatever the fuck you want to call it. You have the power to diagnose.” You looked at him and the cooler facade you normally actively projected with him was starting to fade into one of horror. “I’d like you to write a piece on that, about your siblings. Their credibility, illnesses. A media circuit perhaps as well. You’re a credible and telling source.” 

You stared at your father in silence, you didn’t know what to say to him. This was awful, even for him. 

“So?” He broke the silence, his eyes were deadly serious, and his lips were in a small but twisted smirk. 

“No. No! Just no…That’s absolutely fucked up. No.” You looked around starting to think about how messed up that your father hadn’t just come up with this idea but that he was willing to do it to his children, your older siblings and drag you into this. “No, and if I did that who would then get the chance to write the think piece on you?” You asked sardonically rubbing your brow. 

“Well, I’m sure Shiv could whip up a sequel to her letter on Kendall.” He bit back almost nonchalantly. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised but I just can’t get over the fact that you’d do this, that you’d ask me to do this dad. What you did to Kendall after that Board vote, was sick… And again? To all of them?” You were starting to feel nauseous and weaker around him. 

“Are you talking to Kendall?” He asked in a cold tone. 

“He’s my brother.” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“And I’m your father.” 

“Unfortunately.” You looked into his eyes and bit your cheek. 

He scoffed at that. He’d come in relatively calm, well calm for him but he was quickly becoming agitated at your lack of cooperation.  

“He’s a lousy excuse for a son and a brother.” 

“Kendall doesn’t interrupt my day of work for a fucked up favour.” You spat out, you weren’t shying away from his gaze even though his presence was getting too much for you. “I think you should leave Dad. I have patients and I need to eat something, I need lunch.” 

“Fine. Don’t give my regards to your fucking brother.” He said as he started to get up, you just leaned against the wall. 

“Hey-” Stewy’s voice crackled against the thick tension between you and your father as he waltzed into the entryway of your waiting room. He paused for a second as his gaze quickly landed on your father and you. You thought you saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes but he quickly and efficiently plastered over it. 

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” Logan directed at Stewy with a huff and an eye roll. Logan’s concern and suspicion were piqued significantly now as his disappointed gaze flicked over to you. 

“Well sir Roy, your deleterious business plans and board meetings are getting a bit too traumatic, that much I now need to see Dr Roy.” Stewy immediately and confidently jumped in, his playful and pointed lie came across smoothly and convincingly. Logan scoffed at that and started to walk out. 

“Don’t think about trying any of your peacock philandering with my daughter,” Logan said to Stewy as he walked past him. 

“How thoughtful, safe travels sir.” Stewy laughed off Logan’s comment which just seemed to irritate him more. 

“Think about it.” Logan said as he looked back at you as he was in the doorway, you just held his gaze for a moment. 

“I’ll see you at the wedding.” You calmly stated, he narrowed his eyes again at you for a second and then just walked off. 

**********

Stewy wasn’t a patient of yours, he fortunately never had been, that would’ve been a massive ethical violation. He was meeting you at the office for lunch, something that you two often did. It had been vaguely discussed in the past that if somebody ever saw him in your office it could be easy to dismiss it as him being a patient or wanting some kind of psychological consultation relating to work. It was never an excuse that had been needed before today and you were surprised at how quickly Stewy went into that mode and how he simply sold it. 

You were sitting on the sofa in your office with your legs in Stewy’s lap, he had an arm over the back of the sofa and his other hand was gently caressing your legs as you recounted the brief visit from your father before Stewy came. Stewy was playful and a bit chaotic but he was also intelligent and he could be serious and thoughtful, which he often was for you. 

“I should call Kendall before something happens.” You said looking at Stewy and he nodded, continuing his comforting, soft touches on your sprawled-out legs. 

You grabbed your phone and called Kendall, the phone barely rang before it was answered. 

“Yo?”

“Dad came by the office earlier today.” 

“Oh? What did the old fuck want?” Kendall teased.

“He asked me to write a piece on you, Rome and Shiv. To air out everyone’s laundry, basically ‘diagnose’ you all and try to discredit your side of what’s going on. It was so fucked up Ken.” There was a pause for a moment, you heard Kendall sigh and then inhale. You made eye contact with Stewy who was silent and watching you. 

You had a requited soft spot for Kendall. He was your older brother and he was a good one at that. He was fiercely defensive of all his siblings, which he seemed to prioritise over his own trauma and feelings in confrontations with your father. But as the baby of the family and not having the same tongue as your siblings, you suppose you came across as weaker, more vulnerable. You’d concluded a long time ago that this added to the soft spot that Kendall has for you. You also thought subconsciously it was also linked to the fact that you were the most patient and sympathetic sibling he had. 

“What did you say?” Kendall finally asked, his voice was more serious now. 

“I said no, a bazillion times. I told him it was sick and asked him to leave.”

Ken nodded, and then he remembered that you couldn’t see that. 

“That’s pretty fucked up. Not surprising though I guess…”

“Are you with Rome and Shiv?” You asked. 

“Uh-huh, they’re in the uh, they’re inside.” Kendall answered quickly. 

“Can you tell them?” 

“Yeah, sure but-” 

“I’m really sorry Ken but I have another patient soon, I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could in case something happened. I didn’t want to do it over text.” You answered. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at the rehearsal. Thanks as well.” His second sentence was softer. 

“Yeah, of course. See you then.” You then hung up and looked at Stewy. 

“Did he sound okay to you?” You asked Stewy. 

“Sounded pretty okay for Ken.” Stewy responded as he moved his hand away from your legs and to hold your now phone-free hand. You just nodded and Stewy changed the subject to something else for the rest of your lunch hour which you appreciated. 

****** 

You would say you have a complicated but good relationship with your siblings. While you had the same mother as Kendall, Shiv, and Roman, you and Connor were bonded by your outcast status regarding family affairs. You didn’t agree with a lot of the opinions that left Connor’s mouth but he was still a compassionate older brother to you. You often were iced out together at family gatherings as it was all a business opportunity for your father’s attention. 

You were glad that you just had to relay your father’s request to Kendall. Roman was unpredictable and Shiv would’ve assumed that you had sold them out and this was a mind game. An opinion she’d probably make clear to everyone else and in some way to you as well. 

There had always been significant sibling rivalry in the Roy household. But Shiv had always seen you as her competition in particular, you two were the only women and she lived in a man’s world always striving to prove herself out of spite and nature. Even now she still believed your kinder nature was an act to disarm. She never hid the looks of distrust in her eyes.  

You were now home. You still had your apartment and stayed there occasionally but that was more to save face than anything else. Somewhere along the timeline of your relationship, you’d almost practically moved into Stewy’s apartment. The walk-in wardrobe was equally divided, and your favourite teas were in the kitchen. “It’s closer to your office” had been the justification at the time when he’d been encouraging you to stay over more. 

It was surprising that you hadn’t been caught yet with that in mind, part of you would sometimes wonder if your siblings did know but they were saving it but you knew that if they did it would’ve come out to slap you in the face by now. 

When you’d first met Stewy what felt like a million years ago you never would’ve expected something like this to happen. Then when this all happened and started a few years ago it was still, very unexpected. But he knew probably better than what anyone else would ever be able to comprehend what it meant to get seriously involved with a Roy, even one not involved in the family business. He and Kendall had an interesting friendship and history, with Stewy having been mostly good to your brother. But Stewy was always good to you. 

As you let yourself in you kicked off your shoes lost in your thoughts but you quickly noticed Stewy wasn’t back yet. This wasn’t a surprise though, your job meant you got to work more of a typical 9-5. Something you were grateful for, it seemed like life was just one, endless business meeting and opportunity for everyone involved at Waystar. 

You’d made yourself a cup of tea and were now leaning against the bench in the kitchen with it while scrolling on your phone. You had Google alerts set for all of your immediate family and Stewy, surprisingly there didn’t seem to be too much drama online today. 

“Ugh, fuck!” Stewy’s voice boomed and you heard a bang. 

“Shit, Stewy? Are you okay?” You quickly called out as you made your way over to the apartment's entryway. 

“Yeah, just tripped over your shoes again.” Stewy responded with an amused expression as he took his shoes off and moved them along with yours out of the way. 

This wasn’t the first time it had happened and Stewy knew it wouldn’t be the last. 

“I’m sorry.” You said bashfully as you walked over to hug him, pressing a soft, playful kiss to his lips. “I guess, it’s a good thing you love me.” You kissed him again, teasingly nipping on his bottom lip that was in between yours. 

“You’re such a brat baby.” Stewy smirked as his hand wrapped more firmly around your waist and he kissed you back. 

“I thought you loved that?” You teased between kisses as each one became more heated and desperate with lust. Despite Stewy often being caught or easily roped into your family drama he was the best distraction, escape and companion from everything. 

“I do.” Stewy breathed out as he continued to kiss you and was now kissing your jaw. 

“And I love you…” You whimpered out as his lips started to travel down your neck. He now had you pressed against the wall.  

“And what is it that you love exactly baby?” Stewy purred out as he nibbled around your pulse point. He was always such a tease. 

“I love your hair-” You moaned out as you dug your fingers into his soft, gorgeous curls that were always perfect. “Your voice, eyes, those goddamn turtlenecks, your smile, your colossal vocabulary-” 

“Didn’t you say it was farcical the other day?” Stewy said as he stopped kissing you and looked at you. 

“Stewy!” You whined out, you couldn’t feel his lips on you any more but you could still feel him against you but it wasn’t enough. You needed him. His gorgeous dark eyes were blown out with lust but he had his signature playful, mischievous smirk painted across his face as he cruelly teased you. “You’re such a tease.” 

“I thought you loved that.” He quipped back. You rolled your eyes and took the bait.  

“I do, I love how much of a tease you are.” He felt your breath against his neck as you spoke and then pressed a kiss against his neck, breathing him in. He always smelt so good, despite being a bit of a natural peacock it wasn’t showy, it was more subtle but strong enough. You were certain there was sandalwood in his cologne. “I also love how you feel inside of me.” You spoke as your soft lips kissed his handsome jaw, your soft lips a burning contrast against the tickle of his perfectly trimmed beard. 

“Someone’s getting laid tonight.” Stewy got out, pressing his hips against you as you continued kissing along his jaw and neck, tugging his now tousled curls. 

“That was the plan after all Mr. Hosseini.” You smirked against his neck, feeling him continue to harden against you. He let out a soft, melodic moan as you sucked softly on his neck. 

“How does now sound?” 

“Perfect.” You left his neck to kiss him on the lips, you moaned against his mouth as his teeth clashed against yours. 

One of his hands left your waist to quickly unbutton your pants. Once he’d done that, he quickly slipped a hand in, teasing you as he palmed you and then started to tease your bundle of nerves over your underwear. Your arousal had already started to dampen your underwear and it only grew with his attention. You continued to moan against him, as he gingerly traced a pattern.  

“You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” Stewy teased. “So beautiful and needy.”

Stewy smirked as he felt you press into his hand more, even with the friction of your underwear, you needed more. You wanted him then and there. You kept hungrily kissing him, feeling starved. Stewy snaked a finger under your underwear and rubbed it along your clitoris for a few seconds before dipping it inside of you making you gasp. 

“More, please Stewy.” You begged between kisses, panting as he chuckled. 

“Such a desperate girl with a needy pussy.” Stewy whispered into your ear as he added a second finger in, he picked up the pace a bit he continued to finger you and his thumb moved to rub over your clitoris a few times. His fingers were covered in your slick and you didn’t have any interest in holding back any of your moans. 

You stayed sandwiched between the wall and Stewy, just moving to press your head against his shoulder, the fabric of his blazer muffled some of your moans as he continued to finger you. You looked down and started to undo his belt and pants. 

“What do you think you're doing baby?” Stewy asked in a low voice that was just making the space in between your thighs grow into an even bigger pool of dampness, you were melting against him. 

“I want you.” You tilted your head up so it was still resting against his shoulder but you were now facing his neck more, you started to kiss his neck again, biting it softly and then licking it. “I want you to fuck me Stewy.” 

“Beg.” Stewy breathed out as he let out a little moan as your tongue darted over his pulse point. His fingers were still entering you but not as deep as before and his thumb was painfully slowly, languidly massaging your bundle of nerves. 

“Please Stewy. Fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside of me.” You nipped him softly right near his pulse point and revelled in the groan he let out at that. “Please, I’m begging you Stewy. I need you.” 

“Tell me exactly what you need.” His thumb cruelly left your clitoris for a moment making you gasp out in shock but he added a third finger inside of you, getting to that soft spot that made you melt and his thumb gently returned to your clitoris after a few seconds. 

“I uh, I-I need you. I need you inside of me now Stewy. I need to feel your cock inside of me.” You moaned out. “Nobody has ever and could ever fill me up the way you do. It feels so good, you make me feel so good. Pl-please Stewy. Please.” You mewled out and you couldn’t quite see his face but you knew it would have that beautiful arrogant smirk. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby. I just need you to come for me first, you can do that, right? I can tell your desperate little pussy is already so close.” You nodded desperately, he wasn’t wrong. You were close to unravelling, he could tell from your breathing and how you weren’t just flooding his fingers but also clamping around him. 

“I’m so close, Stew, fuck.” You moaned out, panting against his neck, it tickled him slightly. You bit your lip and moaned against his neck, he could feel the vibration of it and he loved that, that and the sound of your pleasure. You could feel it coming and gasped into his neck again as you came, Stewy could feel it and smiled as his fingering eased to a slower, gentler pace as you came down from your orgasm. 

“How was that?” He smirked as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“It was- it was…” You paused for a moment as your breathing started to settle, your heart was still pounding from that high though. “Good.” 

“Good? Only good?” He questioned with a tone of mock hurt.

“Just shut up and fuck me now, please Stew.” You bit his neck, just feeling even more needy for him than you did before. 

“I thought you liked my colossal vocabulary and voice?” He teased as he playfully grinded into you “I distinctly remember you saying so a few minutes ago.” 

“You’re so mean Stewy.” You giggled softly, gently pulling on the roots of his curls. 

“Was that just to get me into your pants?” Stewy paused the grinding, his tone acting as if he was hurt and that the insinuation was possibly true. 

“I guess not because that obviously didn’t work very well.” You responded, leaning back against the wall. He raised an eyebrow at you and then looked down at his belt. You rolled your eyes playfully and started to undo his belt, palming him. He was completely hard but you already knew this from when he’d been grinding into you. 

“Bedroom baby.” Stewy moaned out as you pulled his hard cock out and rubbed it with one hand. 

“You can fuck me here, you’ve done it before.” You pouted and he just chuckled as you kept up with your ministrations. 

“You said I was mean, so you’re not getting it here. You can wait the whole ten seconds it takes to walk to the bed. Our bed for me to have my way with you.” Stewy’s voice was low and firm but there was still that natural teasing tone there. 

You walked briskly to the bedroom that you two shared and Stewy followed and chuckled over the eagerness of your gait. As soon as you both were in the clean room, you kissed him hungrily again. He smirked and expertly unbuttoned your blouse as you pushed his blazer off. You kicked your pants and underwear off and he quickly followed suit. 

Stewy pressed you into the bed and you tugged on the turtleneck he was still wearing to bring him closer to you and then started to push it up off him. 

“Do you love my turtleneck baby?” Stewy teased as you did. 

“Absolutely love it.” You breathed out with a smirk. 

As soon as it was off and thrown to the floor, you were kissing each other again as if you couldn’t survive without the other. You were running your hands over Stewy’s back and up his neck to the luscious locks you loved as he quickly undid your bra. You were both now naked and he continued to kiss you as his hands cupped your chest. 

You moaned out as he started to caress you and pinch your nipples. His lips travelled from yours down to your jaw, your throat, he kissed your breasts and teasingly licked along your nipple for a minute as he started to rub your heat with his other hand. 

“Please Stewy.” You begged out in a desperate moan as your eyes were closed in pleasure. 

“Please, fuck you?” He again teases as he starts to line himself up at your entrance. 

“Yes, please that.” 

Stewy stopped his teasing and happily obliged after what felt like an eternity of almost edging. He pressed his head into you and you gasped as he did, gently scratching his shoulders as he did. It wasn’t long till he was bottomed out, he waited a few seconds for you to adjust before he started to slowly thrust inside of you, eliciting the most melodic moans he’d ever heard. 

“You’re so beautiful and tight, I love being inside of you baby.” Stewy cooed out as his pace quickly picked up a deeper and slightly faster rhythm. 

“You feel so good Stewy, so good inside of me.” You mewled out. 

Your words were literal music to his ears and it wasn’t long till he was grunting out as his thrusts became deeper and harder. 

It was so easy to become lost in Stewy. Especially when he was fucking you like this, having his way with you in the bed you shared. How couldn’t you be lost in him when your eyes were open he was all you could see?

His scent was dizzying as it mixed with the sweat he’d built up from snapping his hips into yours, he was all you could feel, on you and in you, his grunts, words and the filthy sounds you were making together were all you could hear. Stewy was intoxicating, overwhelming, a sensory overload in the most spectacular way. 

You were pulling on his hair as you felt him hitting that perfect soft spot deep inside of you. Your bundle of nerves was already sensitive from the teasing and your earlier orgasm and you could feel the warmth of another orgasm building. 

Stewy wasn’t clueless about this, he could feel you clenching around him especially as he reached that sensitive spot of yours and you were flooding him in your arousal. Other than the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, Stewy couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the noises of your moan and whimpers and the sounds of the squelches made of him thrusting into you and being met with your juices. 

Stewy continued to pound into you, his thrusts were faster and needier, and he was getting close himself. He pressed some sloppy kisses to your neck that warmed your insides up even more with desire and love for him. Stewy’s lips travelled back to yours and you opened your mouth inviting him in as your tongues and teeth passionately attacked each other. 

The kiss became deeper and deeper, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and felt him groan at that against your lips which in turn made you smirk. You two continued to kiss and he started to rub your clitoris with his thumb, you moaned into his mouth at the sweet pressure and slightly writhed under him. 

“That feels so good Stew.” You panted out as the kiss broke for a second and you both panted as he continued to thrust into you while rubbing a circular pattern on your bundle of nerves getting closer to their peak. 

“You feel so good. I love you.” He panted out between moans, as his eyes rolled back at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him. 

“I love you too.” You moaned out, as your legs tightened slightly around him and you scratched his back. “I’m, so, so, so close.” 

“Yeah? I can feel that baby. Oh fuck, I want you to come for me, come on my cock baby.” He encouraged as he continued. Kissing along your pulse point, fully knowing that would drive you closer to your climax. 

You moaned out while scratching his back and pulling on his hair as you unravelled from your orgasm. Stewy smirked against your neck and continued to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves and thrust at the same, perfect speed as you chased your orgasm and rode out that high. 

“Thank you, baby, that was so good. I want you to come, to fill me up.” You panted out as you placed a hand to cup his cheek as his hips continued to snap back into yours. 

“Fuck, I’m pretty close.” 

You dug your nails into his back as he felt you clench around him in the most spectacular way as you orgasmed and post that. He began to chase his own high and you knew he was close as his thrusts spread up and the pace was more sporadic than rhythmic. 

After a couple more minutes of thrusts, Stewy grunted and kissed you more desperately than he had all day and finally chased his own climax and finished inside of you. Before he pulled out the kiss changed to a gentle, affectionate one and you lightly combed your hands through his hair and then ran them along his face and jaw as he kissed you like that. 

Stewy kissed your forehead softly and then pulled out to go towards the ensuite to get a washcloth to clean up the mess you had made together. He was so firm but gentle with you. 

After that, he laid in bed again on his back, you were cuddled into his side, with your head on his warm chest feeling almost half asleep. 

“What do you think of marriage now?” Stewy asked interrupting the peaceful post-sex silence. There was an air of playfulness but his voice was softer, quieter, almost sleepy. 

“Pardon?” You shifted slightly off his chest to get a better look at his face. You were certain you’d heard him correctly but you weren’t sure if maybe you’d fully given into sleep and this was gibberish or a dream. 

“We’ve talked about eloping before.” 

“Yeah, yes we have but-” 

“I wasn’t joking.” Stewy said as he gently held your chin between his index finger and his thumb. His voice was still soft but it was a bit firmer now, more serious than tired or playful. You bit your lip unsure of what to say as he continued to look into your eyes with his beautiful, diluted ones. 

“You know what that would entail Stewy. Your career-” 

“I do and-” 

“Stewy.” You rested your chin on his chest looking at him. He could see that you were tired. 

“So you don’t want to marry me right before your brother and Willa? Maybe a day or two after? Get that IUD out, then pop out a few babies. I’ll even be super fucking generous and get a vasectomy.” His tone was more teasing now and you had a feeling the humour wasn’t completely genuine but partially a cover-up of possible hurt. 

“Sweetie, I love you. Can we talk about this tomorrow? Maybe not talk about this ‘post-coitus’.” You offered him a small smile and combed your fingers through his hair, admiring the dark locks and the stunning strands of silver. 

“Yes ma’am.” Stewy nodded and kissed your forehead. You settled back into his chest and it wasn’t long until you had dozed off in his arms and on the comfortable pillow of his chest with the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. 

********

You’d been the only one of your siblings to stay for Connor’s wedding. Weddings were just business opportunities in the world of the Roys, grief couldn’t exist with the market and leadership decisions. You didn’t like how the wedding or death side of that traumatic day went down or how it was handled but unexpected deaths weren’t meant to be convenient or follow logic. 

You were now in your deceased father’s penthouse at his wake, having spent most of the morning hiding in a corner from as many eyes as possible. You’d really only spoken to Connor and Willa, your other siblings were in a sitting room being as business-focused as possible. 

It had been a little while into the Wake and you were with your siblings when Stewy and the Furnesses came in. Connor and Willa had been the easiest to talk to which wasn’t really anything new. Kendall and you occasionally made little remarks to each other and even you and Shiv exchanged some looks over other people’s comments or well, audacity.

You took Stewy’s handsome face in, he looked well-rested and fresh-eyed despite the fact that he’d been up most of the night with grieving you. He was handsomely dressed and groomed as always. You wanted to be held by him again, to leave and be curled up in a ball with him. Normally you two acted amicably when your paths crossed in the Roy world and public like this. But you were too depressed and exhausted for the usual furtive nature. 

He’d hugged and given his condolences to your sister Shiv and then she’d moved on to Sandi. You looked at Stewy and gave him a small smile, he went to give you a hug and a faux kiss on the cheek as he did for Shiv but you needed more than that, you needed him. You genuinely hugged him and pressed your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat, a firm, undeniable reminder that he was there was always comforting. You didn’t care that your siblings were nearby, it wasn’t an indecent act. 

Stewy couldn’t and wouldn’t say no to affection from you ever, let alone in your state in this context. He reciprocated the genuine hug and you held onto him for maybe a few seconds longer than you should’ve if you wanted to avoid the suspicion of your siblings. 

You pulled away despite never wanting to do and tilted your head to see that he was looking at you warmly, sympathy written all over his eyes. His hands had moved to softly rest on the sides of your arm, the touch was comforting but could easily be perceived and argued as platonic to an onlooker. He had a small, genuine smile on his face as he looked at you. 

“Hey,” he said softly. 

“Hey.” You responded back quietly. You wanted to kiss him, you were almost tempted to and then Kendall was quickly whisking Stewy away. 

You went back to your corner and eventually, you were joined by Kendall and Roman. You saw that Stewy was making his rounds of small talk and his eyes occasionally wandering, searching for you to see where you were and how you were doing. 

“Have you thought about psychoanalysing yourself?” 

“What?” You questioned exhaustedly as your mind was pulled away from stealing glances at Stewy by Roman’s words. 

“That was a bit too touchy with Ken-doll’s boyfriend.” Roman retorted. “I didn’t realise jumping on your brother’s BFF was one of the five stages of grief.” 

“Excuse me?” You now glared at him. 

“Oh, I guess it must be a new one they added in.  Are you gonna get a model named after yourself? Or are you saving the Roy model for something more fucked up?” 

“I’m not doing this Roman.” You sighed in exasperation and walked off to find a glass of wine but were quickly disturbed again. 

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually know about you two,” Kendall smirked as he whispered to you. 

“What the fuck Ken?” You jumped at the fright from Kendall, you were grateful that you were still empty-handed or else you’d have stained your outfit if not all of your surroundings from your brotherly jumpscare. Your reaction just made Kendall’s smirk grow. “You knew? But Stewy never told you.” 

“He didn’t. I figured out a while ago that you two were uh…” He dramatically paused for a moment as if he was thinking of the right word with a teasing smirk. “Copulating.” 

“Ken!” You elbowed him softly to try and get him to quieten down. “Why did you never say anything?” You quietly questioned. 

“Well, it was pretty fucking weird at first. He’s not the worst Harvard finance bro out there.” Kendall said with a playful expression. “He keeps you happy-adjacent right?” 

“Yeah, he does. Thank you.” You gave Kendall a tight-lipped but grateful smile. 

“You know, you don’t have to hide it anymore right?” 

You looked up at Kendall, questioning him with your eyes. You and Stewy’s relationship was complicated and you’d say it was pretty healthy despite the furtive nature, it had been that way for everyone’s personal and professional sake. Kendall’s smirk started to slowly slip as he took in your expression. 

“He’s dead.” Kendall spoke softly as you stared into each other’s eyes, he placed his hand on your arm as his face grew more serious. You eyed Kendall trying to find the right words. Sure your father had been part of it but it was a complicated situation with many pieces. 

“I could live with dad icing me out, cutting that relationship. I made peace with what that is a while ago. But-but, it’s when Roman, Shiv, and you. That’s what really hurts.” 

“That’ll be all that Roman says and well Shiv, she’ll only say anything about it behind your back.” 

“So comforting and reassuring.” You dryly said. 

“I’ll send you the invoice for Kendall Roy’s Therapy.” He teased and you both chuckled dryly at that. 

There wasn’t much else to say to that and you knew Kendall wasn’t ready to talk about the bigger problems yet so you gave your brother a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. You stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, it was healing and reassuring in a way. 

You then left to sit on a miraculously empty couch as Kendall went off to talk to Roman and Shiv again about company matters you didn’t want to hear about and that they wouldn’t want to discuss in front of you or Connor anyway. As you sat there, Stewy caught your eyes again and this time he finally came over. He sat next to you on the sofa but left a reasonable, person-sized gap between the two of you. 

“Kendall knows, you know.” You quietly state looking at him tiredly, the events of the last 24 hours and your lack of sleep were quickly catching up with you. 

“Well, I’m in private equity not acting baby.” You scoff at that and smile, sinking a little further into the sofa. 

“Perspicuously not in comedy either, babe.” You say with a smile that grows. You tilt your head to look at his expression, his big beautiful eyes are watching you and there’s the cocky smile plastered on his face that you’re in love with. 

“I’ve learnt it’s best to save the wit for the Roys.” He shoots back with a mischievous gleam in his eye. 

Stewy’s here and he’s being cheeky for your sake. You love that about him, his tongue isn’t biting like your siblings but his humour is a way of showing up. 

“Do you want to go on the balcony for a minute?” You questioned. “I want some fresh air.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He leaned his hand over that empty space of safety between you two to squeeze your hand for a second before you got up and he then followed you. 

He leant against the railing and watched you once you were both out on the much more, pleasantly quiet balcony. 

You laid your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, listening to his heart calmly beat as he pressed his chin against the top of your head and exhaled. Stewy’s thumb was tracing reassuring patterns on your arm. He hummed softly for a moment and you could feel the vibration of it on the top of your skull. 

You and Stewy both knew this was a sure way to be caught but neither of you cared in this moment and didn’t care about any of the consequences. They were manageable, they felt minor now and realistically they were. This would shift the family dynamic and having furtive hands with your lover always seemed to you to be in the best interests of Stewy’s career and the dramas between him, Kendall and Waystar. 

You were pretty okay with being out in the open with Stewy and he felt the same way. As the relationship went on, he wanted that more and more. His post-coitus conversation was serious and not a post-orgasm thought. 

“You were serious about eloping before Connor’s wedding weren’t you?” 

“Probably poor taste to say it right now but yes baby, dead serious.” 

You laughed at that and he felt it vibrate against him and it made him smile. He just wanted to bring you a bit of comfort and joy on an awful day like today. 

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” 

“Are you saying you want to get eloped?” 

“Well, I was thinking of leaking the story to ATN that Stewy Hosseini is so whipped by the Roys that he gets a vasectomy for one and not the one they’d expect.” You teased, laughing a bit more and he laughed as well. 

“Well, as much as I think we could find you something short to wear as an elopement dress, maybe something fun and scandalous like Sharon Tate’s since you like those old flicks. I don’t think we should leave your dad’s wake to go off and elope, might be the cultural upbringing differences but seems a little rude to me.” Stewy teased, you laughed and kissed him on the lips softly for a moment. 

“How does tomorrow sound?” 

“For an elopement?” “Yeah.” 

“Perfect.” 

#stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x you #stewy hosseini smut #stewy hosseini imagine #stewy hosseini x reader #stewy hosseini x roy!reader #stewy hosseini x f reader #stewy hosseini fic #stewy hosseini fanfic #stewy hosseini fluff #succession #succession hbo #hbo succession #succession s4 #succession smut #succession roy reader #kendall roy #shiv roy #logan roy #roman roy #siobhan roy #arian moayed #arian moayed fandom #arian moayed characters #arian moayed fanfiction #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #succession fandom #fanfic #teamstewy

[sunshine-jesse]

The Incest End is Not The Bad End, Part 3: The Only End I Know For Real

Alt title: We're roleplaying the endings, not choosing them.

I've focused a lot before on how sickly sweet the chemistry between Ashley and Andrew is and how unproblematic their relationship would actually be under different circumstances, mostly societal ones. I mostly did so to counter the idea that the incest end was primarily a bad end and bring up the assertion that it was the one with the most hope. In doing so, I basically interpreted all of the text within the game in a very positive light, giving off the impression that I think it'll be all sunshine and roses. The reality couldn't be further from the truth? While I think it's the end with the most hope, I ALSO think it'll be incredibly difficult for everyone involved.

As a matter of fact, I think the Questionable end will be the most difficult one to navigate through for Ashley herself.

"But wait," you say, alarm bells ringing in your head, "doesn't she literally fucking die in the Decay ending?"

And I don't think it's that obvious.

First off, why do I think the Questionable end will be difficult to navigate through? After all, Andrew is calm, collected, and Ashley is just a little bit nervous about how he's changing. She also has that ultimate leverage over him, knowing that he's sexually attracted to her and she can use it to keep him by her side. There's little for anyone to worry about, right? Well, no. Not really. As another analyst has pointed out, in the Questionable ending, Ashley has no OTHER leverage over Andrew.

The trinket? Shown to be only situationally useful to them. The future visions don't always show danger, sometimes the demon can just troll them. Sleep? No, he no longer needs Ashley for that. A scapegoat? Not even that. In the Burial ending, he starts to take responsibility for the violence he inflicts on others and has no need to pin the blame on Ashley.

Outside of sex, Ashley is more or less useless to him now, at least in her own mind. Truthfully, Ashley is still the most important person in the world to Andrew and doesn't seem to need a reason to keep her around anymore, but Ashley doesn't realize that; it's part of why she's so confused and uncertain. Their dynamic is changing, and she doesn't like it. But in the Questionable ending, all Andrew has to do is not have sex with Ashley (easier said than done if the fanbase [myself] is any indication) and she'll have nothing left. She'll likely have no other choice but to look inward at this point, especially if Andrew doesn't give off any of the usual red flags that make her think he'd leave her.

There's a good chance at this point that their dynamic will flip entirely. Ashley will be the one who needs comfort, and Andrew shows every indication of being emotionally stable enough to provide it. We'll see some Real Mental Illness instead of Possible To Infer But Maybe Problematic To Do So Mental Illness. Whether or not she changes for the better or worse will likely determine the ending we'll get.

…

Except probably not.

Sane vs Questionable can't be THAT different, or we'd be getting 3A, 3B, 3C, and 3D instead of 3A and 3B. And, y'know what? Now I'm gonna start reaching really hard into theory territory rather than just analysis. So, hear me out here.

Both dreams are canon no matter the ending. The only difference is whether or not Andrew sleeps or not; if he does, the vision he gets is for HIM, and Ashley only incidentally sees it. It's much more important to him than to Ashley, because Ashley doesn't get a clear vision like she did in the motel. If them fucking was actually relevant to Ashley, she likely would've seen it no matter the ending. Her reactions reflect this; at first, she appears weirded out, maybe uncomfortable. Then she finds it hilarious. She considers it as a means of manipulation, sure, but the writing is on the wall: She won't NEED to do so no matter what.

Unfortunately, due to her not being able to open both doors, she won't be able to realize this. Oops!

At this point in time it's basically impossible to ascertain what her own personal vision means. I've given my interpretation before, but I ultimately have my doubts that the specific sequence of events is all to relevant. Most weird dream metaphors are clear parallels to past events, but the dream seems to be a metaphor for what the future will hold. The most relevant part is not the ghosts, but instead how Ashley reacts to what is clearly Andrew's soul. She jokes about trapping it in the bottle, but it being as a joke more than anything is a far cry from how desperate her attempts to keep him normally seem. So what gives? What does this mean?

I think, funnily enough, the Decay ending holds the answer.

My most-distanced-from-a-literal-or-metaphorical-reading-of-the-text-but-is-relatively-easy-to-accept theory is that the choices we are given in the game aren't asking us what we want to see from them, but rather, how we see the characters and their relationship. People are distracted by the idea of choice, but the reality is that we're being asked to roleplay (this is an RPG after all) as the siblings and do what we expect them to do. This isn't about choice. This is about BEING them and DOING WHAT WE THINK THEY'D DO.

Here's what I mean.

If we interpret Ashley as having trust in Andrew and his judgment, then it makes perfect sense she'd trust him with her parents. She might be a little worried, but it's pretty clear that her overwhelming desire to keep Andrew by her side is underscored by genuine love and trust. From there, if we interpret Andrew as having genuine love for his sister and a desire to take care of her, then it becomes everyone else's problem that they can't be together; not his. In killing their parents, he comes to terms with this and self-actualizes. He's willing to take responsibility for the violence he inflicts on others and has no discomfort with dismembering them.

But if you interpret Andrew as viewing Ashley as a burden and a problem, he can't bring himself to save their parents and have a better life because he views himself as too far gone. He hates himself as much as Ashley hates herself for being unable to break free from her influence. He still feels like she's his responsibility, but the love that exists there is greatly muted and overshadowed by his sense of responsibility and a carnal, physical desire for her. Knowing this is likely part of the reason he hates himself; part of the reason he can't let go.

He, crucially, also squanders Ashley's genuine display of trust. It's HIS fault that things break apart, which is why the skull appears over his head when you accept the mom's offer. Ashley genuinely, seriously loves Andrew and wants what's best for him. She's posessive, but her care is a lot less selfish than Andrew thinks, and he can't see that because he's too blinded by his hatred and (partially sexual) frustration to see who she really is.

On the other side of things, if you view Ashley as being a primarily toxic influence that views Andrew as more of an object than anything, she doesn't trust Andrew to deal with their parents and it's HER fault that things break apart, as the skull appears over her head. She sees him as an object, as a child or toy. She sees him as Andy, not Andrew, and can't process the fact that he can change. It's very overbearingly maternalistic, and I believe this specific choice is the only one where Ashley is actually more like their mother than Andrew, eye colors be damned.

In Burial, she wants to share the vision with Andrew, and he wants to share it with her, because their feelings are genuine and mutual and they want to share the experience (because they might get two visions from it, sure, but the principle isn't that much different) But in Decay, she keeps it to herself. She doesn't trust him or his input, either because she doesn't view his feelings as important or because he either almost squandered her trust (if she was listening in), or because he was generally hostile and disincentivized her from wanting to share.

There are other examples too, like when we're allowed to control Andrew to kill the hitman. If we view him as unprepared or unwilling to kill, we empty the whole clip because he's nervous and doesn't want to do this. If we view him as prepared, calm, and in control, he kills in one clean shot without much of an issue. Washing the [REDACTED] out of the shower drain? We basically get to see if Ashley is actually all that competent at housework or not, and if we don't know the right order, neither does she.

This comes to a head in both of the endings.

In the Questionable ending, we're shown that Andrew slept through the dream. We see what he really wants and the depths of his true feelings. He has very obvious romantic feelings for Ashley, and it's not just physical desire. Ashley's very obviously obsessed with Andrew still, but the fact that he can be present in every painting shows that she ACTUALLY views him that way. She's not just seeking validation; her feelings are real, and she knows it.

Remember, this dream is SHARED. We are seeing how BOTH of them feel.

In the Sane ending, Andrew isn't present, and Ashley is never given a chance to view their relationship as anything other than platonic. We don't know how Andrew feels, and we're arguably never given a view into Ashley's true feelings either, because that would-be revelation is cut off by a vision (indicated by eyes). We're just shown what she should do, needs to do, or will do.

Because we don't view their relationship as romantic, light is never shone on the reality of their dynamic. We never see how obsessed Ashley really is (if anything, we're being misdirected by being shown the opposite), and we never see that Andrew has romantic- if buried- feelings for Ashley that can't just be passed off as carnal physical desire. But since it's still the Burial ending, the dynamic still clearly exists; the endings would be too different otherwise. We CHOSE how we see their dynamic in the basement scene.

In other words…

Without love, the truth cannot be seen.

Reader who is in the know: "…hey wait a fuckin' minute" Me: "MOVING ON"

At some point- probably early on- the Sane and Questionable endings have to converge. Andrew and Ashley will have to have the nature of their dynamic laid out for them in a way they can't deny, and the likely only difference between Sane and Questionable will be whether or not Andrew is surprised/embarrassed, or just goes "I guess that dickhead demon wasn't just tricking us after all" and then the route will proceed as normal. Whether or not they have sex will likely be determined by your choices in Chapter 3 itself rather than Chapter 2 with this in mind. Either way, I think Ashley will go through most of the chapter confused and uncertain and will be forced to develop as a person, for better or worse.

In the Decay ending, as said, we're shown that Ashley doesn't even attempt to share a vision with Andrew, so we get to see a vision where Ashley's frame of mind isn't one driven by mutual affection. In this route, we see Ashley constantly running from -something,- and given dreams are metaphors, I think it's reasonable to assume that it's showing us that Ashley is primarily motivated by a fear of Andrew. Fear of what, exactly, isn't really clear; we know for a fact that she's afraid of losing him, but she's also afraid of the violence he can inflict upon her. Either way, she runs away, we can see the demon say "hmmm how interesting," and then we get a vision of the future.

But it's important to note, that vision is a metaphor, not a literal vision of the future. It takes place in the dream world- unlike any other vision, which takes place in the real world- and there are no out-of-frame eyes in the CGs like there are in the Questionable route. Also, (albeit less convincingly), all the eyes are in the background rather than on the map themselves, like they are when we see the hitman vision. The eyes only exist in the background in the Sane vision too, further adding to the idea that they're a metaphor.

So. If it's not a literal depiction of what will happen, then what exactly is it a metaphor for? Okay. Hear me out. This is my wildest fucking theory yet.

It's a metaphor for the Burial route. Or rather, the kind of event that happened in the Burial route.

What we are being shown in the metaphor is a reconciliation of their relationship, where their true feelings are laid bare. We are put in a situation where they are forced to decide how they feel for each other once and for all. If Andrew holds all the power in the relationship but has no control or awareness of his feelings- represented by whether he was composed enough or not to unload his entire clip-, he unceremoniously kills Ashley. Without that awareness, Ashley cannot even defend herself. She has no control because she isn't dealing with someone who has any either.

(Whether he actually kills Ashley or just some abstract representation of Leyley isn't clear, but it doesn't matter much for the purpose of analysis.)

But if Andrew does have that awareness of his feelings- represented by only shooting one bullet- they can negotiate. Because Andrew is in control, Ashley is also in control, and she can make one of two choices:

She can choose to save herself (and either maintain the status quo or just fucking kill Andrew depending on how literal the vision is). With this choice, she lets her fear overtake her and discards Andrew- the cause of her fear- like trash. He is an object that only exists for her sake, after all, and she can discard him just as easily as he seemed like her could discard her during the strangulation scene.

She can choose to trust and accept Andrew. And given a heart appears over her head, she can choose to love him, and overcome her fear, even at the cost of either her life or their prior dynamic (once more, depending on how literal it is).

Decay is asking us if we think Ashley is primarily motivated by selfish fear or genuine selfless love. But both exist either way, and their relationship must be understood and reconciled at some point; this route might honestly be their only hope for a platonic good ending, but it's going to be dismal and painful either way.

So with that in mind, why is the gun not relevant to the Burial route (yet) if it's such a strong metaphor?

Because the reconciling event WAS the basement scene.

We had to make that same choice there. Was Ashley too afraid of Andrew's interaction with her parents to let him handle it? Or did she love and trust him enough to make that choice? In choosing yes, the ball in Andrew's court. If he chooses to care for her needs, their relationship evolves. If he or Ashley refuse make that choice, that can is kicked down the road, and their relationship continues to deteriorate.

Or decay, as it may.

But in Burial, with that reconciling event having happened, the ball is in Ashley's court. With Andrew having come to terms with many of his feelings (minus his sexual desire), most of his arc is finished. There's probably still a lot of him to unpack on the Burial route, but in the Decay ending, as long as Ashley shows love for him, the final choice always falls on his shoulders. And with his final choice having been made in Burial, all that's left is Ashley's.

And what final choice will she have to make?

I don't know, I'm not a prophet.

But either way, she'll still have to make the choice of whether or not to be ruled by her fear of losing him, and desperately try to grasp for control she no longer needs, or cast aside that fear and allow for genuine, mutual love to flourish. Think about it this way: When you see a corpse, how do you react? If you don't care for the corpse or fear it, you stay away and let it decay. If the corpse belongs to someone you love, you tend to it and bury it.

And what do I think the best case scenario is? Well, I've made my opinion obvious, but I think there's one final thing I need to emphasize:

You don't claw at someone's back like a wild fucking animal if you're not really into it.

#andrew graves #ashley graves #the coffin of andy and leyley #gravecest #tcoaal #tcoaal essay

[spectorswife]

Sneak Peak of Bi-Han fic :)

Keep in mind, I have never written a fanfiction before in my life, let alone smut. I am showing you guys a sneak peak of what I am writing and I want ya'll to let me know whether or not I should continue :)

“You lack conviction”

“Same as you lack intelligence, speaking to your Grandmaster with such disrespect”

You two are alone in his chamber since you needed to speak with him urgently before training, and somehow it always turns into a screaming match between you two. It’s no surprise he would pull the ‘Grandmaster’ card, it’s all he ever uses. It tends to get old really quick, REALLY fast. You felt a headache form as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. The fact that you still put up with it is honestly mindblowing. You tend to follow in Kuai Liang’s footsteps when it comes to ignoring the superiority complex of his brother, however today it’s finally getting under your skin. When training as a fellow member of the Lin Kuei, you endure alot of things, pain, suffering, whether its physically, mentally, or emotionally; however Bi-Han manages to make you want to simply wish for him to silence himself the way he does the other members of the clan.

“I thought the title of ‘Grandmaster’ would also allow you to have common sense and competence, but it seems both are lacking in your favor”.

You see his eyes squint at you and you see his eyebrows squeeze together, you never noticed him being this riled up yet still maintained his posture. He proceeds to move his steps closer to you and points at you,

“Why would I take orders from someone as yourself, not a single drop of Lin Kuei blood in your veins and you still continue to blabber your idiocy at me like a fool, you are not one of us, so don’t spit at me asserting the power you wish you had”

Those words were spat in your face almost as if you just got punched in the face by the grandmaster himself. Just like that, you felt your blood boiling, your jaw clenches, your eyes narrow with you feel your fists clenching. Because your Grandmaster who stands before you has done the one thing that he has never done before, which is insult your origin. You have always known you were never truly a member of the Lin Kuei, however you were very thankful when Kuai Liang found you and took you in. Bi-Han was against it from the very beginning, however you never understood why he disliked you in particular, you always followed his orders and you were one of his best fighters, right up there with Kuai and Tomas; and he still continued to undermine your potential. In this instance, he proceeds to undermine you, degrade you, as if your training and time with the clan means nothing to him. All you did was present an idea on a new training method for potential new comers, since Kuai Liang has trusted you to train the young ones along his side, all you want is what is best for the clan since this clan has become a new type of family to you, and Bi-Han decides to toss it to the side like it’s trash.

You’re already trying your hardest to keep your composure in the presence of him, he knows he gets under your skin, and with his huge ego, he is constantly fueled by what you say in return. He knows that what he said got to you, he can basically see the fumes leaving your body and all you can think of in the moment is violence, however if you hit him now, you’ll lose, if you open your mouth again, you lose; it seems like anything you do, ends up being a loss on your behalf. That’s how he always made you feel, like you’re never enough and you finally decided to accept it. He stands before you with his arms crossed, just simply waiting for what you have to say next. You inhaled deeply, and exhaled calmly, you felt your fists unclench and you did the only thing you could do in this scenario:

You walked away.

When doing so, Bi-han to some surprise, is in shock with your actions, his eyebrows rose in disbelief and he unfolded his arms. “Hmmph” he grunted, “Mind your place”, and shut the door behind you, masking what he was truly feeling. Although this was a win on his behalf, he sure didn’t feel like a winner. For the first time in a long time, the infamous Sub-Zero, felt bad?

LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE :/

#bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han mk #sub zero #bi han smut #kuai liang scorpion

[suneeater]

solomon + general romantic hcs

✎a/n: im actually so obsessed w solomon i had to cut myself off writing these bc they became noticeably longer than the ones ive done for everyone else so far

✰warnings: slightly suggestive themes, minors DNI!

Solomon is the world’s biggest tease. He’s also incredibly observant and too smart for his own good, which means he knows your every weakness and loves to use them against you. It’s just so fun for him to see you get so pouty and beg him to quit, and he can’t help but make up arbitrary rules for his own satisfaction, such as swearing up and down the only way he will stop is with a kiss

He never gives you what you want right away; he’s always drawing things out for longer than they need to be, withholding touch or affection and offering only tiny little slivers in the meanwhile only to bask in how much you beg for him, upset he won’t give himself to you. He’s such a sadist, honestly

Teasing aside, Solomon is one hell of a reliable man. He has his mysterious ways which, as close as you become with him will always remain, and somehow always knows when you need him the most. He’s always managing to turn up at the second that he’s needed most knowing just what to do, thanks to his quick thinking. Even if he has prior commitments or has his hands full, you can always expect him to take some weight off your shoulders

As your only other fellow human in the devildom, Solomon worries about you a lot. You’re a quick learner and have more than enough pacts with some powerful demons to keep you safe, but he can’t help but think about your safety every moment he isn’t with you. Expect lots of gifts from him in the form of protective charms and items

Solomon is slightly similar to Lucifer in the role that he takes in your relationship; while he’ll always bend over backwards for you, he leans toward the assertive side. The way he sees it, it’s his job to keep you safe, and being around as long as he has he’s much more experienced than you, not to mention a powerful sorcerer. He’ll tell you what to do, but in the form of advice and genuine worry, while leading you by a firm but loving hold on your waist

Dates back in the human world are a must; catching Solomon up on current events and the past few decades is something the two of you enjoy thoroughly. There’s always something new to share, but it’s familiar enough that you still bond over your shared human experience. Back in the human world, you run about excitedly, pointing out all of your favorite things and rambling on about all that he’s missed, and while he doesn’t exactly retain every detail he’ll always the way you smiled so happily

When Solomon kisses you he takes his time. He’s a bit of a romantic, his surprisingly soft hand supporting your chin with tender care, keeping you close to him and guiding you just where he needs you, his other secured around your neck. There’s hardly any distance between you, and you have even less time to breathe before diving back in. Kissing Solomon is overwhelming in every sense of the word, all of your senses tingling with excitement and the desire for more. You can never be close enough to him to be fully satisfied and it’s frustrating, but it brings a spark to your relationship

He probably has really cold hands. Like, REALLY cold hands. He’s always using them to spook or startle you, sneaking up from behind and clasping his ice cold palms against your cheeks and watching you squeal. He has cold feet, too, and you have to beg him to wear socks after he touches you with them in the dead of night and it stirs you awake

If anyone wants you to wear their clothes, it’s Solomon. I mean, out of everyone he probably has the most normal wardrobe anyways! He’ll even buy some more average human clothes just to see you wear them, never deliberately asking but always trying to tempt you by dousing them in his scent and leaving them out in the open. He feels almost prideful when you’re lounging about in his t-shirts, eager for people to see you clad in his attire and know you’re his

You’re probably the only person that can convince him he is not the gourmet chef that he thinks he is, and that’s simply because he feels so warm and fuzzy inside when you spend late nights in the kitchen together, teaching him to cook your favorite dishes

Often, these late night cooking lessons end up being dance lessons. He takes his hands in yours and smiles softly for you, asking you without words for a dance to the distant song from your playlist. Solomon has two left feet though, and is constantly stepping on your toes and losing his balance. It’s one of the only times that you see the experienced sorcerer lose his composure, and surely a core memory of your relationship

find the same scenario for:

beelzebub | lucifer | mammon | simeon 

#solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x you #solomon hc #solomon obey me #solomon headcanons #jo #obey me! #obey me x reader #om!

[cuubism]

actor hob, and pretentious asshole film director dream

[ this got so long and so weird and specific i'm so sorry ]

so hob is an everyman actor. a good actor, charismatic, funny, fan favorite, but not the type that gets cast in highbrow art films. mostly he does like romcoms, mid-budget action movies, feel-good family films, etc etc. and he's totally cool with that, he's good at what he does, and people enjoy those films, anyway. he might be getting a bit bored though, a bit stagnant. might be thinking it's time for some reinvention. and there might be a certain director whose ridiculous and nonsensical but dreamy films he's particularly enamored with...

dream makes REALLY pretentious art films. the types that get studied in graduate level film classes and have fifty different academic papers with fifty different theses trying to puzzle them out. dream is a master of themes and images and subtle construction. he is also a COMPLETE asshole and impossible to work with, an auteur in the most stereotypical way possible, he writes and directs, he micromanages all his projects, he asserts his vision and god help anyone who goes against it. nobody can handle him, nobody can STAND him, and the only reason he still gets funding for these projects is because they win awards, so many awards, and the studios want to ride on the coattails of those awards. but it's getting to the point where even his most ride-or-die producers are ready to give up.

right off the back of dream's most recent bafta, a rather naive Big Exec approaches him to direct the next installment of his Big Superhero Franchise. dream is immediately like fuck off with that bullshit but the exec pleads with him that the franchise is flagging and they really need something new to spice it up. plus the pay will be enough for dream to finance like 10 of his own ridiculous art films without having to rely on producers for money. and dream really is about to get cut off for being a complete insufferable asshole so he takes the gig. it kind of feels like prison though.

anyway, he gets to work trying to make this shitty boring film at least marginally less shitty and boring. he doesn't have a lot of leeway -- a lot of the story is locked in, half the cast is set from prior installments etc. dream immediately regrets taking this job, he'd rather die in actual prison than work on this mindnumbing piece of trash. it feels like it's taking an eternity and who could possibly stand an eternity of this???

well. enter hob, whose agent managed to snag him a 2nd-lead sort of role in this thing. it's not QUITE the reinvention he was going for but the pay and exposure are really good -- and even if they weren't, the moment hob saw that dream was attached he was immediately on board.

cue dream tearing his fucking hair out and basically being a complete menace and diva on set -- no that wasn't good, yes we have to do a 57th take, oh my god this dialogue is horrible give me that shitty script i'm writing my own thing, what do you mean the plot is linear???, wait there are how many cgi aliens????? i'm going to kill myself -- and Hob, pretty much Just Happy To Be There as always, takes one look at this beautiful dramatic emo asshole and is like oh. yes. i don't know what i'm saying yes to, but i'm saying yes. just immediately enamored with this bitch against all logic, he's like i've seen all your films i know how your mind works you brilliant nihilistic mess of a person. i'm on board. let's go.

first scene that hob's in dream is once again ranting about the atrocious script, which he did not write and is hardly allowed to change -- or, every change he makes is too weird and the studio keeps nixing it. everyone keeps sighing and being like oh my god can we please just shoot i wanna go home, meanwhile hob's like alright then. let's workshop it. and dream's just like. what. you aren't just gonna tell me to shut up? and hob's like no, youre right, this script is trash, but i know you're just going to write something really weird and psychedelic that they won't let you shoot. and dream's like you dare to speak to me that way??? and hob just puts his hands on his hips and is like listen, i actually know more about this sort of general audience family film thing than you do, mister arthouse, so are you going to work with me or not? and dream's just like what... is happening... because usually people who try to 'handle' him either just cave to his every demand like wimps, or just fight him on everything to 'prove' that they're in control, and hob is just kind of... not doing either of those? anyway dream doesn't know what to do with him.

so they workshop it. turns out hob actually DOES know how these sort of general audience all-follow-the-same-three-act-structure films work and how to improve things within those confines, and also he understands what like, normal people like, you know, casual feel good movies, not everything has to be a mindbender, jesus. so they bounce ideas off each other for like 3 hours until they finally get something that's okay enough that dream no longer wants to fling himself into the sun. meanwhile everyone on set is staring at them like 👀. then dream is like come back to my trailer we are rewriting the other 116 pages of this script right NOW. what else is hob supposed to do but follow.

then hob becomes the designated Dream Handler on set. dream starts using him as his barometer for what 'normal people' would like because he does not understand that at all. ("hob, will 'people' accept this?" "well considering youre spinning the camera around on a string i'm gonna go out on a limb and say no"). dream becomes kind of obsessed with him because his life is so like, normal, and he's okay with it?? he doesn't find existence to be an insufferable prison from which there is no escape?? and hob is like aw i know you're such a tortured artistic soul *pats him on the head*. plus, hob is actually a good actor, and he's able to put a lot of heart into even this mediocre big budget film, and kind of forces dream to confront the idea that there's more than one good type of story. that different stories serve different purposes and a straightforward happy story is okay, actually.

(and that the problem is the corporatization of the storytelling, not the story itself)

anyway the movie ends up being pretty good, dream still kind of hates it because he wasn't given full artistic license but he has to grudgingly admit that it has at least some merit. after the premiere hob is like (cheekily) so you gonna direct the sequel? and dream is like i did not write that to have a sequel. and hob's like it has a cliffhanger? and dream's like so???? and hob's like well theyre definitely gonna make a sequel. and dream's like i hate this planet. also no i'm not going to make the sequel. i'm going to fuck off to the woods and make a movie about teeth. do you want to star in it? and hob's like you're so fucking weird i'm obsessed with you i'm going to kiss you now.

so yeah, that.

#dreamling #the sandman #just chuckin aus into the void cuz who knows if i'll ever actually write them #sorry this au became insane XD #it got SO much longer and more meandering than i was aiming for i just wanted to write a little 2 paragraph summary LOL #then it grew several legs #long post #anyway dream doesn't have a 'full name' in this btw he just directs under Dream like he's beyonce or something 😂 #you can think of dream as sort of like ingmar bergman or luis bunuel #and hob is like. mark ruffalo. so you can try to imagine that dynamic if you wish XD #sort of inspired by the way art film directors keep getting roped into directing marvel and disney films for some reason?? #my writing

[gorgonwrites]

bound to you (part 1)

diluc x fem!reader

authors note: hi! im gorgon and this is my first fic :) i am definitely NOT a writer, but i had an idea and i decided i wanted to do it myself >:)) this is turning into a slow burn type of thing i am so sorry haha. i usually like getting right into the thick of things but i just kept writing sos 

wc: 1,864

cw: uuuuuh none for now, no smut in this one! mutual pining, diluc is dumb and is trying to ignore his feelings for reader, fem!reader, arranged marriage trope, diluc learning to be a good husband blah blah 

It’s been six months since you came to the Dawn Winery. You’ve come to love Mondstadt and you adore the staff who share your home. The only person who was still warming up to you is your cold shouldered husband. Master Diluc wasn’t known to be an affectionate man, and he kept himself busy with business or stayed late at Angels Share. Even though you’d been married for months, you could count on one hand how many times you’d actually spent a moment alone with him. He avoided you, and quite frankly, you avoided him. You knew you’d never get a chance at marrying for love since you were the eldest daughter of a well known Lord in Fontaine. Your marriage was purely political, but you lived an easy life here. The stillness that you experienced most days was a relief compared to the constant partying and being paraded around at events like you were an item to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. You were, however, incredibly lonely. Adelinde tried to remind you that Master Diluc was a very kindhearted person, he just needed time to adjust. 

“It hasn’t been that long since you arrived and married the Master, Lady y/n. Just give him time, he shows his affections in… his own way. You’ll see.” You sighed. Another six months of avoiding each other may drive you mad. You were an independent woman, and not being allowed to lift a finger in your own home was driving you past boredom towards insanity. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to help with the grape harvests soon? Master Diluc will be away on business for at least another month and I’m happy to provide another pair of hands.” You phrased it as a question, but as the Lady of the house Adelinde wasn’t in a position to refuse. She giggled as if you had asked her something rather mischievous.

“I know we could use the help. Besides, you could put that vision of yours to good use and keep everyone cool, I’m sure.” You didn’t get many chances to use your cryo vision anymore, and you jumped excitedly at the thought. Your husband can hardly stand the cold, and you’ve tried to limit how much you use it out of respect for him. He may avoid you, but he hasn’t been unkind. You try to afford him the same treatment, even if it was difficult at times. You were directly going against his wishes by offering to help with any harvesting work out in the hot summer sun, but what your husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

“I’ve got more frozen lemonade, boys!” You yelled out to the men working tirelessly in the vineyard. Adelinde held an umbrella out for you to shield you from the afternoon heat, but you were feeling perfectly cool after using your vision to make a huge batch of frozen drinks for your employees. 

“Thank you, Lady y/n!” Each man said one after another, quickly snatching their drinks from the tray you brought out. You all had been working for hours at this point, your nose and cheeks were tinged pink from the sun. 

“Alright, after this we’ll get back to it. I’ve got a bit of energy left!” you said cheerily. 

“You most certainly will not.” a familiar gruff voice asserted behind you. Your eyes widened before you slowly turned to come face to face with your husband, speechless. He was home more than two weeks early. You stood before him in a thin undershirt and underskirt to combat the heat, sweaty, sticky, and sunburned. Embarrassed, you whispered softly,

“Welcome back, Master Diluc.” You averted your eyes from his gaze, suddenly feeling exposed in your current state. 

“Adelinde, please see y/n to her chambers and have her rest. I’ll help with the remainder of today's harvest.” he spoke as though you weren’t even there, and you were close to snapping. You can’t though, not for everyone to hear. Adelinde began to shuffle you back to the winery, and you chanced a glance back to look at your husband. He had already shrugged his coat off and began unbuttoning his shirt. He looked up to see you staring, and you swore you saw a small smile appear on his face. Surely not, you thought to yourself. And you let Adelinde take you inside to bathe and relax after a long afternoon in the hot sun. 

After your bath you sat alone in your room, wondering whether or not you wanted to find your husband. The harvests of the day had long since ended, and the skies were stained pink and orange as the sun set. You had a perfect view of the vineyard from your window, so you sat to watch the sky as you got lost in thought. You began to mindlessly braid your frizzy curls, and became so engrossed in the thought of your shirtless husband that you didn’t hear a quiet knock at your door. 

“Y/n?” You jolted at the sudden intrusion, only to see the subject of your wandering thoughts in your doorway. You looked away quickly, wanting to hide the flush creeping up to your cheeks. You felt hopelessly exposed again, only donning your summer nightdress. Your husband was a handsome man, you knew that. But you didn’t know him. After six months of marriage you knew nothing about the man in front of you, but you were finally ready to find out. 

“I did knock,” he smiled sheepishly, “I wanted to… see to you being well rested before I retired for the evening.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. This was the first time Diluc had visited your chambers, and he wanted to make sure that you were resting? You quickly changed your mind about getting to know him, and you could feel agitation creeping into your skin. 

“I am very well rested, thank you Master Diluc.” you replied flatly. His expression fell slightly, and you scrambled to find something else to say. 

“I told you not to call me that. I’m your husband, calling me Diluc will suffice.” You scoffed at him in response.

“Some husband, who has hardly spoken to his lonely wife in six months. Hardly even seen her as well! Leaving her to entertain herself day in and day out. I think if I become any more restless I may die from the madness!” You clapped a hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips. Wide eyed, you glanced at the man in your doorway once again. He’s nothing but a stranger, you reminded yourself. Even so, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

“I apologize,” you immediately whisper, “I didn’t mean for that to sound so unpleasant.” He smiled gently in response. Even if you pushed the limits of what you could do, even with your fiery quips and sarcastic comments, he only ever showed you a softness that no one else witnessed. Maybe you were the one giving him the cold shoulder and hadn’t realized it. You crossed your arms in response to your own thoughts.

“Don’t apologize for saying things I need to hear. I know I’ve been exceptionally busy since you came to Mondstadt. After the harvests are done, I’ll have a bit more freedom to do as I like with my time. I’ll see to it that I spend some of that time with you. Sleep well.” He quickly turned on his heel and was out of your room, leaving you speechless. You couldn’t help but notice your heart pounding, and you clutched your chest in hopes of calming it quickly. The sky was almost dark now, and you watched as crystalflies floated through the vineyard. Your heart had slowed its pounding, and you sat in your window again to go over what your husband just said to you. 

Diluc quickly made his way across the winery to his own chambers and let out a sigh when he closed his door behind him. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest after the short interaction with you, and he couldn’t deny the bulge growing in his trousers after seeing you in your thin nightdress. 

“Damn it.” he breathed. No matter the distance he kept between the two of you, the yearning he felt became clearer and clearer. He wanted you, and badly at that. Kindness flowed out of you like water, your fiery personality was intoxicating, and you were undeniably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He resisted growing close to you because he worried about putting you in danger. Anyone close to him could be used as collateral against him, and if anything happened to you his relationship with the Lords in Fontaine would crumble. Is he worried about that, though? Or is he more worried about any harm coming to you? He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing at himself. 

Spending time with you would change nothing. He was sure he could easily entertain you once or twice a week when the Winery’s busy season came to an end. He took a breath and slowly began to undress for the evening. He huffs at the chilly night air flowing in from his open window, kissing his tanned and freckled shoulders. Diluc didn’t like the cold. It reminded him of what his life became after losing his father, and preferred to keep his body and home warm despite how hot it became throughout the summer months in Mondstadt. He thought of your cryo vision, and wondered if your body stayed cool in the same way that his body stayed hot due to his own pyro vision. Do you even like the heat? What was your favorite season? Would you ever tolerate being touched by him? His mind was racing again. Stripped bare aside from his shorts, he flopped onto his bed and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

Gods, she’ll lead to my ruin if I’m not careful. He stretched his arms over his head, seeing stars from the pressure of his palms. He smiled. Maybe any ruin you lead him to could be worth it.

AHHH okay that's it for now sorry there wasn’t much ~flavor~ but i had to set the scene okay. like i said im no writer so feedback is always welcome! im so soft for this man i can hardly stand it LMAO 

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc fluff #diluc smut #diluc headcanons #diluc genshin x reader #diluc genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin imagines

[go6jo]

HIII HOW ARE YOU I HOPE YOU'RE DOING FANTASTIC

Okay so you don't have to but I'm a pre-med student and the pressure is kicking my ass and I need some geto comfort content😍

So could you please write something in which the reader has been feeling super overwhelmed because of people's expectations of them but has been trying to suppress it to not breakdown and one day is triggered by something and when geto asks how they are, they breakdown completely and geto comforts them?

AGAIN YOU REALLY DON'T HAVE TO IF YOU'RE BUSY BUT I HOPE YOU DO

OKAY THAT'S ALL AND I HOPE LIFE'S TREATING YOU WELL!! LOVE YOU <3

-Chérie

i don't think you'd ever reach the point of a full blown meltdown with suguru. he's so in tune with you and your emotions, he knows you so well he can almost read through you like an open book, he notices the small changes in your behaviour, knows every telltale sign of your frustration, takes note of the plate of fresh fruit he cut for you left untouched besides you on the desk, notices how even though you barely even finish your food nowadays, whenever you slip into bed next to him, you always ask him to rub your tummy to sleep, complaining about a stomach ache that just doesn’t seem to go away - knows you're teetering on the edge of breaking down and is so cautious, so careful with you as not to push you over it. he never strays too far from you, in case you might need him, maybe you'd be sitting on the dining table studying for an upcoming exam and he'd notice your fingers tangled in your hair, unconsciously tugging on the hairs of your scalp and he'd sit down next to you, quietly because he doesn't wish to disrupt you from your profound state of concentration, and slide his hand into yours, to hold it, rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand - he doesn't make a big deal out of it, rarely ever calls you out on your harmful habits, not out loud at least, he does his best to always intervene, though discreetly, and is very sly about it because he is afraid that if he acknowledges them, if he scolds you on it, upon your fragile state, he might be doing more harm than good, so he makes it his mission to soothe any stress you might have, to silently ease you into relaxing even if just a little, to comfort you and to be there for you. so suguru treats you so very delicately, like fine china, if he notices you trying to read through a whole textbook in one sitting, without taking breaks he will walk over to where you're seated, no words spoken, he will start massaging the tension that has started building up on your shoulders away, he does it slow and it's somewhat sensual and so so good, he's pulling small sighs of pleasure out of you and his touch is so soothing - he always knows just the right strings to pull - he's never invasive, you won't notice how he's slowly but surely coaxing you into leaving work aside, the book you'd been reading left abandoned opened on the table, long forgotten. you won't notice how easily you to turn to putty in his hands, he makes you submit so willingly that it seems like this was all your decision to begin with. and once he feels you start to relax into his touch, once he thinks you're pliant enough, once he has got you just where he wants, his hand inches closer and closer to your neck until it wraps itself around the front, and its gentle - his grip - yet a domineering gesture, pointer finger stretching to push against your jaw and force you to look up at him.

"have you eaten?" you don't answer. your head is leaning against his stomach, his fingers are kneading at your jaw and you think you might fall asleep. "baby." hes more assertive this time around, capturing your attention and forcing your eyes open.

"i'm studying, suguru." your voice melts away with every syllable, eyes growing heavy and body going limp against him - he has got you, hook, line and sinker.

"and i haven't seen you take a break today." suguru is your boyfriend, if you won't take care of yourself, he will. "you'll make yourself sick, pretty" so he pulls back the chair you're sitting on and he bends down to your level, stretching his arms open to beckon you into holding onto him, hoisting you up when you do.

he carries you to bed and sits you down on his lap, your legs circling his waist, the heel of your feet digging into his lower back and holding him flush against you. the palms of his hands start creeping up the skin of your thighs, then higher to your waist, gently stroking up and down your sides, up and down, then just the tip of his fingers, a touch so light, barely even there, brushing up and down, up and down. he stops only to reach for the back of his shirt and take it off, knows you like it better that way, when there is nothing in between the two of you, when you can press your cheek directly to his naked chest. then his hands are back on your body, feeling you up, massaging the muscles on your back, dutifully switching between a gentle touch and a firmer one, just languidly rubbing up and down your back until he feels your breath hitch when his fingers press against a particular sore spot on your body, which lets him know of a painful knot that might require his attention. and he always knows just the right spots to touch, the right pressure to apply because once he starts relieving the tension, that over the past few weeks has settled deep inside you, its not long until he begins to feel your tears on his skin, he never has to do much - just has to do it right - for you to let it all out, to open up to him.

"im so tired, 'ru."

you offer yourself to him so readily. he never has to beg you to let him in, it may take a little effort on his end but you always end up handing him the key to your heart on a silver platter.

"i know, baby"

"i don't think i can do this anymore." your voice is weak, it quivers as you sob quietly into the crook of his neck.

"yes, you can. you always do." he tries to hush you with a quick peck to your temple, soft fingers threading through your hair, unruly for, these days, you barely even took the time to brush it thoroughly "just lay here with me for a while and i'll make you feel better, yeah?"

and hes such a nerd, he would let himself fall backwards into the matress with you lying on top of him and hed tell you all about an article he recently read on how people store a lot of negative emotions on their hips and he'd just very soothingly knead on them for you, to try to gather if it's true, what he read, and maybe you'd cry a little bit more in his arms and he'd just press the most tender, lingering kisses to your temple and swallow the whines you let out in pain when his fingers dig a tad too deep into your flesh, or press down into a more sensitive spot. he's the best stress reliever.

#ALSO CHERIE I KNOW MAYBE THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING but with “requests” its easier for me to write using this format !! kiss kiss #hope you still like it AND AGAIN IM WISHING YOU THE BEST OF LUCK !! YOU GOT THIS GIRL #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto fluff

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi hon, could you talk more about finding my own ‘dream girl archetype’ & creating ‘my personal manifesto’ as you mentioned in this post? 💌🌹

Gladly! Some notes on creating your own dream girl archetype and personal manifesto are below. Lmk if you need anything else x

How To Build Your Own Dream Girl Archetype: 

Reflect on your role models: These can be TV characters, celebrities, public figures, or, even better, those you look up to in real life. What qualities and characteristics about them do you admire and want to emulate? Is it their poise, work ethic, their personal strength, confidence, style, general aesthetic, lifestyle, cultural affiliations, career, and hobbies? Make a list of these people or characters with bullet points under each one. If you find a lot of commonalities and find certain qualities on multiple lists, place them on a separate list – this list will become the framework for your dream girl archetype.

Get introspective: After gaining some inspiration from those you admire, it’s essential to look inside yourself to acknowledge the characteristics and personality traits you like about yourself, your natural talents, skillset, and your motivation for wanting to become your dream girl – this desire for self-growth and perseverance should make it onto the list if you’re still reading this! Think about the compliments you receive, especially those that you regularly get from different people who don’t know each other. I find that these types of comments help us learn the most about how we’re perceived in the world. Add all of these characteristics, personality traits, talents, skillsets, etc. to your list. 

Acknowledge your dark side: Get comfortable with your shadow self. If you have certain traits or habits holding you back from being your ideal self (i.e. people pleasing, self-sabotage, procrastinating, etc.), become curious and reflect on why you engage in these behaviors or uphold this mindset. Strategize ways to unlearn these characteristics and ways you move through the world that no longer serves you. Create a plan to dig yourself out of these self-destructive thought patterns and actions. Read books, speak with a therapist (if you can), and start journaling to come up with creative solutions to make changes in your daily life to prioritize yourself. Set up your environment in ways to help you win. Own your indulgent side - it makes you human. The sooner you align with your guilty pleasures, the better you get at indulging in them strategically. Have a small sweet treat every day if needed. Keep emotional distance from toxic loved ones. Make your feelings about your current hot hookup self-referential. Block out time to watch your favorite show.

Assert an active role in your life: Create healthy habits to make you feel good. Stop craving others’ approval – no one can be as happy for you as you are for yourself when you succeed. It’s okay to remind yourself we’re all a bit narcissistic – it’s human nature. 

Construct your higher self: Once you’ve acknowledged the qualities you need to internalize to become your ideal self, discover the external qualities and habits you need to cultivate to build your dream girl. What does she wear, what’s her career, how does she speak, work through issues, engage in conversation? What are her habits like? Her morning and night routine? What does she read, watch, and listen to? What’s her social life like? How does she spend her leisure time? What does her space look like, her beauty, diet, and self-care routine? What quotes does she live by? Does she know other languages or about certain topics? How do others speak about her? Create as many inspiration boards and lists, journal entries, etc. as you need until you unlock all of these answers. You will know when some new characteristic, routine, or aesthetic resonates. 

How To Write Your Personal Manifesto: 

Essentially, this document (can be a journal entry, notes app entry, Google doc, etc.) is an amalgamation of your values, principles, habits, and boundaries. It’s a written reminder to yourself of who you truly are, decide to be, and promise to yourself to stick by your values no matter who tries to tear you down. 

Create a mission statement of your ideal self and the qualities that validate this narrative. Essentially, practice the law of assumption by creating a series of personally-tailored affirmations that describe your self-concept and the woman you choose to be. 

Write out all of the qualities listed above that you admire about yourself and emulate in your daily life. Affirm this self-concept. Feel free to use specific personal affirmations and attach related behaviors to your self-affirming characteristics (i.e. I make it my mission to show up with class and confidence in every area of my life. I’m mindful of how I speak to others, choose my words carefully – in person or in writing – and consider the feelings of the other person when engaging in conversation. I take my appearance seriously and aim to embody a seductive and alluring presence. I maintain a healthy diet, make almost all of my meals from fresh ingredients, go on long walks daily to take care of my body, tailor my closet with streamlined clothes made of high-quality fabrics that fit my body well, indulge in my makeup and beauty routines daily alongside wearing my signature scent. I’m an intellectual whose dedicated to learning more about the world every day – I read at least 10 pages of psychology, personal development, or a business-related book daily, etc.). 

List out your boundaries and non-negotiables with yourself. Feel free to get specific with your boundaries to include all aspects of your life – with your work, family, friends, intimate relationships, dating, food, style, self-care habits, etc. Validate your needs. Add your ‘why’ to each of these boundaries and priorities to help you internalize them and to motivate yourself to uphold these standards despite any self-doubt or external criticisms. 

#femme fatale #dark femininity #high value mindset #dark feminine energy #the feminine urge #feminine energy #high value woman #it girl #hypergamy #hypergamous #ideal self #self concept #self growth #self healing #note to self #life advice #girl advice #mindset #loa #loa affirmations #manifesation #higher self #self improvement #self respect #success mindset #personal branding #female excellence #goal setting #femmefatalevibe

[distort-opia]

you know i often see people throwing around the claim "joker r*ped/sa'd barbara in tkj" (mainly to shame people for liking the joker or batjokes) even though alan moore has dedunked it at some point. like the only piece of media i can think of with joker as a rapist is the azzarello graphic novel which is shit and doesn't need to be accepted as canon. i know it's kinda of a touchy subject but i'd be interested to hear your thoughts

Well. You've pretty much said it, to be honest.

Even a cursory Google search will reveal that Azzarello's Joker (2008) is a one-off, non-canon story. The just as much stand-alone sequel, Batman: Damned has a grieving Harley Quinn almost force herself on Bruce, and yet I haven't heard people say Harley is a rapist. Hell, didn't Batman and Harley Quinn (2017) have Harley and Nightwing sleep together... with pretty dubious consent on Dick's side? And yet fans are able to acknowledge that these are not canon storylines and that the writer matters a lot-- in the case of the latter, it's co-written by Bruce Timm, who is infamous for his shitty portrayal of female characters (also see the animation Batman: The Killing Joke, in which Barbara very assertively has sex with Batman, because that's of course the only way a woman can exercise power). Actually, Barbara's character has suffered so much... there's even Batman Beyond 2.0 #28, in which Bruce apparently got Barbara pregnant, Dick's girlfriend at the time.

But we all dismiss these storytelling choices because we know they're idiotic. They go against the core of the characters, simple as that. Why is Joker not allowed the same? While what he canonically did to Barbara in TKJ was horrible, rape did not happen, and that's a fact. Any other implications of sexual assault can only be connected to Frank Miller's writing in the TDKR series (not canon), or that horrible (and again, not canon) book adaptation of TKJ by Christa Faust and Gary Phillips. Unfortunately, there are always some writers who think that it's just darker and grittier and cooler, more shocking to have Joker attempt rape or resort to sexual means of intimidation; though it's funny how it happens that these are also generally controversial writers for their sexist depictions of women.

But we do know why Joker is not afforded the same kind of treatment as other characters who got butchered by out-of-character stories, canon or otherwise. He's become the punching bag of the DC fandom; it's so easy to proclaim loud and proud these days how much you hate the Joker and want him dead. If you're an anti and looking to feel morally righteous and signal to your echo chamber how good and pure you are, it's a low hanging fruit to latch onto Joker and criticize him for all he's done. The problem, of course, is when these people start attacking actual, real-life fans over their fictional preferences, shipping or otherwise.

But to give a more general conclusion, and my actual opinion on the matter: Joker is a master manipulator. His main schtick is literally getting Batman to kill him by orchestrating all manner of situations; he manipulates his doctors, his henchmen, he manipulates Gotham itself through the media on countless occasions. The very reason why he did what he did to Barbara in TKJ was to manipulate her father into having a mental breakdown. Joker picks people to break and then breaks them psychologically, that is his MO. What he wants is to expose the people around him, he wants to show that deep down, everyone is rotten.

It probably becomes obvious why rape is inconsistent with this mindset. Joker isn't the kind of monster to make things happen by brute force, he's the kind of monster to manipulate people into the worst versions of themselves and then laugh at them as they hate themselves for it. He'll murder and torture and imply any manner of atrocity to make that happen, but the source of his glee is seeing people fall into the same dark pit, devoid of humanity, he's chosen to live in. (And don't even get me started on the fact that Joker was canonically shown to have been a victim of sexual assault himself as a child, in Batman: Streets of Gotham. As an adult, he's depicted as gruesomely taking revenge on the man who did it. Something tells me there's more than one reason why Joker would not resort to rape, and it goes beyond MOs or agendas.)

#I got a bit long but alas #this was prompted by whatever twitter meltdown is currently happening wasn't it #heard about it and heaved a long sigh. this is why I stay away from that hell hole #asks #long post #joker #rape mention #discussion of rape #fandom negativity

[duchessofostergotlands]

To be honest I haven't liked the things Catherine has been saying about mental health lately. First that talking therapy doesn't help everyone, now this. For a royal to say a short sentence or two about mental health... it can easily come across the wrong way & doesn't show nuance. Yes, talking therapy doesn't help everyone, but her saying this could discourage people from trying it out. Not everyone who feels anxious has a medical condition and needs medication, but some of us do!

Let's look at what she said (and buckle up, it's a long one):

Quote number 1: At an art therapy charity. Someone said writing music had been an easier way to get their feelings out than talking in a clinical space. Kate responded: "Talking therapies don’t work for some people, they’re not for everybody. It’s so important to have a range of therapies." She then followed it up by talking about how many people won't respond to talking therapies because of their own preconceptions about clinical spaces and so it's important to let those people know that there are safe alternative spaces like this charity where they can come for help in a way that works for them.

Unless you're asserting talking therapy does work for everyone and alternative therapies shouldn't be offered, I can't see what the issue is. It's 100% truthful. An analysis by the Child Outcomes Research Consortium found that only a third of children had recovered (i.e. they were no longer above the clinical threshold) by the end of therapy. About 40% responded they'd experienced no change at all. For adults it's slightly better but NHS Digital report only 50% of adults who access therapy have recovered by the time it's over. That's before we even get into the fact that talking therapies were built by and for predominantly white westerners and so large chunks of the population find them completely unhelpful, even actively damaging. There's an article here on that. So it's accurate to state that they don't work for everyone - for a variety of reasons - and alternatives need to be accessible for those who have reason to not trust professional services, or who had therapy and haven't recovered. In fact, this is a big problem in therapy because people often go into it thinking it'll fix things and then ending treatment without being "cured" is extremely difficult for them. And that issue is caused by precisely this unwillingness from the public and some professionals to be honest and acknowledge that talking therapies won't work for everyone.

Quote number 2: I can't find the full quote but essentially she said that normal anxieties should not be over-medicalised.

I wrote a whole thing about this, read that. I'm going to illustrate with an example from Drag Race. A few years ago there was a contestant who wasn't popular, I can't really remember why, but in their sob story episode they opened up about their clinical depression. And the reaction all over social media was "who cares? Everyone has depression!" But the thing is... they don't. In the US, where it was filmed, 2/3 of people don't have depression in their lifetime. We have created an environment where instead of normalising mental illness so those who have it feel accepted, we've overcorrected. And now it's cool and trendy to make stress into Anxiety Disorder, to making lying into gaslighting, to make your dick of an ex boyfriend's behaviour a Personality Disorder. All of which means that people who genuinely do have mental illnesses are taken less seriously and for conditions like mine (I have BPD) stigma is worse than it's been at any point since I was diagnosed 8 ish years ago. And that's not to mention medications for mental illnesses can be heavy duty. She was at an event for children and it's perfectly reasonable to question whether a doctor giving a child meds after a five minute appointment because the child said they were anxious is a sensible and healthy choice. It's there in the name - over medicalising. It's like any medical procedure. No one is saying you shouldn't cut someone's arm off if they have a serious infection and it's needed. But you shouldn't cut their arm off just because they got a paper cut. PS something slightly outside the scope of this because Kate can't be partisan but we talk about this a lot at work, the link between over-medicalising and poverty. A good article on that here.

I understand what you're saying about the fact that sometimes quotes are clipped out of context and royals need to think about what the headline will be but even taken out of context, all of her statements are accurate. And actually in my view it's the first time I've ever seen her be nuanced! I've always found her mental health work patchy because I feel like she unintentionally contributed to a lot of the issues I've outlined above but she's finally talking about things that are not talked about as much, even amongst professionals. I get your perspective because I was there a few years ago. When someone first mentioned the concept of over-medicalising to me I thought it was denying mental illness is real etc. But then I realised that knee jerk reaction was coming from my insecurities about my illness and my past experiences of struggling to get care, it wasn't actually about the concept itself.

#ask #anon #kate middleton #british royal family #mental health #mental illness #again having bpd is a really helpful diagnosis for this #because there's a huge movement within the bpd community to remove the diagnosis entirely #i don't completely agree but there are lots of people who believe that bpd is largely diagnosed amongst women who have experienced trauma #and so it's medicalising a normal human response to something traumatic

[the-archxr]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do a headcon for the moon boys and the reader running into a pinning ex lover? Maybe a little spice after the run in, if your comfortable.

Thank you so much for your time. Your writing in amazing and your dialog for Jake is ✨ the bees needs✨💜

Awe, thank you so much!!

BUT OKIEDOKIE ARTICHOKE, HERE WE GO

nsfw under the cut

So for context, let’s say you run into your ex on different occasions with them?? You’ll see what I mean.

STEVEN

So it all starts when you decided to go out for dinner.

This time, Steven’s fronting. It’s his turn to take you out on a nice date. To see you in a beautiful dress, sipping white wine and getting full on pasta.

Ya know, the typical romantic shit that the moon boys are one thousand percent suckers for.

But then this…completely random man comes up to the table.

And really, he shouldn’t be shocked that this guy approached you out of nowhere. Because you look beautiful. Painfully gorgeous. A Monét painting come to life.

It’s just unfortunate that this incredibly flirty stranger who knows no boundaries is your ex.

He’s a lot more calm and collected than Steven. A lot cooler in his demeanour as he makes you laugh.

But the thing about Steven is, he absolutely hates jealousy—hates being jealous. Though he hasn’t had much experience, as far as he can tell, it’s a gross emotion. A disgusting feeling that he knows is unrealistic because you love him.

You’re incredibly adamant about how much you love him (because who tf wouldn’t be with them).

Unfortunately, it’s hard to not feel this way whenever your ex shoots a glare in Steven’s direction.

But you’re not stupid. You easily pick up on the way you he disregards your boyfriend, and without hardly any effort, you bid a forceful goodbye to your ex and return your attention to Steven.

And Steven? Ugh that boy LIVES to be in your attention. And the fact that you chose him; picked him over the guy in the dark blue suit that keeps undressing you with his eyes, is marvellous.

A little too good to be true, in Steven’s eyes, but still marvellous.

However that doesn’t stop him from still being apprehensive. Doesn’t stop him from withholding all that jealousy from earlier. It’s unhealthy and he doesn’t deal with it—knows he should—but doesn’t know how to.

And it sucks because this wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. It was supposed to end with the two of you relaxing in a warm bath together, eating chocolate and listening to French music as you had slow passionate sex.

But there’s no way that’s happening, much to both of your dismays.

So for the rest of the evening, the two of you drop it.

Until, you run into your ex the next day.

MARC

This time, when your ex waves to you from a fruit stand on the street corner, Marc is with you.

And, though Marc is far more aggressive, far more assertive than Steven, he suffers from the same green-eyed monster almost immediately.

He saw him last night, in the reflection of the glass window behind your table, and even then, without ever talking to the guy, he hated him.

Was aggravated beyond anything.

Except, Marc doesn’t really let you know that. Luckily, he’s not that much of a talker to begin with, so you don’t see his silence as a bad thing at first.

He’s able to keep his feelings hidden for the most part.

But then

OH BUT THEN

The man has the audacity to touch you. To caress your elbow as you politely try to disengage his advances.

Your uncomfortable. So very uncomfortable, that Marc nearly beats the guy to a bloody pulp without a second thought.

But instead, the rational part of him that doesn’t want to cause you further stress, controls his thoughts. And his fists.

“I think you’ve over-stepped a boundary there, buddy.”

The guy, with a smug, thin grin on his face looks directly at Marc. “Have I?”

At that point, Marc can see, out of the corner of his peripheral, your eyes widen. Your grip on his hand tightens and your breathing picks up as you nervously look to him.

You’re pleading to him.

Please, don’t do this.

But in his anger, in that quick, white hot flash of emotion, Marc blacks out.

JAKE

And if you weren’t scared before, you sure as hell were now.

Because you recognize the change in pressure as he clenches his jaw and the darkening of his eyes.

You know it’s Jake fronting now. And that becomes a whole other problem because…

You can talk Marc down with almost no problem. You don’t even need to convince Steven to choose the route of non-violence. He already follows that river like a loose pebble caught in the stream.

But Jake?

Jake is a whole other untameable beast.

So you’re desperately pulling him away before he can even consider his next plan of attack.

Luckily, he lets you guide him. Though he keeps looking back behind him with a dangerous scowl on his face, silently hoping that this fucker follows so that way he has an excuse.

It isn’t until you get Jake through the door of your shared apartment that you finally allow yourself to breathe.

You dodged a bullet there, and you’re ready to just drop it and move on, but Jake is not.

Before you can even your shoes off, he has you pinned against the wall. One hand holds your wrists together above your head, and the other tilts your chin up to his.

“Goddammit, Jake. You need better fucking self-control, you know that?”

He smiles at you. A devilish grin as he lifts his clothed knee up into your cunt. You gasp at the hard contact. “Oh, you see, corazón, I have a lot of self-control.” He wraps his mouth around the edge of your ear, before tugging on it with his teeth. “If I didn’t, I would’ve fucked you right there in front of that pendejo.”

Another jolt of his leg muscle and you whimper. He laughs, because your body always betrays you. Never lets you be a brat without telling him that you want him inside you.

He then smells the lingering perfume on the junction of your shoulder and neck from last night, and inhales deeply.

You smell so fucking good.

“On second thought, maybe I should’ve taken you right there, hmm? Maybe he would’ve finally gotten the fucking hint that you’re taken.”

Then, it’s his turn to drag you. To guide you to the kitchen counter where he flattens your upper-body.

And you follow suit without a word. Because you know exactly what’s going to happen, and you’re already so excited. Already so wet between your thighs that you can’t do much but hold on to the other end of the counter and lift your ass up in preparation.

Marc and Steven don’t like getting jealous. But Jake doesn’t mind one bit.

Though he’s still respectful of your disdain for having a jealous boyfriend (because, he like the other two, trust you completely), it’s moments like these where he’s unbuttoning his jeans and pulling your hips back to meet his that he truly thrives in the feeling.

The need to protect. To defend. To mark whats fucking his.

And so he fucks you. Hard. It’s an unrelenting pace against the hard marble as the sound of his balls slap against you. The obscene rapid noises meet the occasional smack he places on your ass.

He doesn’t rely on build-up; doesn’t have the time to.

Instead, his hips snaps into you from behind until your panting and crying and writhing. Desperate to cum, desperate to clench around him as he fucks his arousal into you.

“Fuck, cariño. So tight for me. Bet he never fucked you like this. Never made you cum on his cock the way you cum on mine.”

He pulls three orgasms out of you—all from the same position with the rapid driving of his hips. He’s unable to relinquish power or have you on top of him until he’s sure that you’re his. That he’s leaking from every part of you. Joint sweat rolling off your back, and cum spilling out of your pussy.

The both of you are still fully clothed as he cums inside you; heaving and mumbling incoherent things in Spanish, until he’s spent, and stills inside your walls.

He fucks you so roughly, that by the end of the night you have a bruise from the edge of the counter along your pelvis and the hickies he left along your shoulders.

Though, he promises you, as he picks you up like a rag doll and walks into your bedroom, that he’s nowhere near done with you yet. And that by tomorrow morning, you’ll have long forgotten fuck-face’s name.

✨the-archxr headcanons✨

#OOFA DOOFA #THIS #WAS SOMETHING ELSE #I NEED TO WRITE A JAKE LOCKLEY SMUT ASAP NOW #the moon boys #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley smut #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector smut #steven grant smut #moon knight #moon knight headcanon #smut headcanons #the-archxr headcanons