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literalgrill · 4 months

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Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

#video games #patreon #hard drive #ai critical

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prettieinpink · 4 months

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Cultivating a Growth Mindset

A growth mindset is the belief that one's skills, qualities, and abilities can be nurtured and enhanced through hard work and learning. Adopting this mindset makes you more open to challenges, embracing the unfamiliar or uncomfortable and willing to experience failure.

However, adopting this growth mindset means we must challenge our limiting self-beliefs that reinforce our fixed mindset. Limiting beliefs is the negative thoughts that hold us back, hindering our journey of self-improvement.

RECOGNISE YOUR FIXED MINDSET. Start to be aware of how your fixed mindset, became your everyday internal dialogue. Fear of failure, procrastination, always being in your comfort zone or being a constant quitter could be why this mindset has been reinforced in your mind.

That being said, you need to start being conscious of what you’re saying to yourself daily. If you struggle with that, try speaking to yourself out loud, as it helps to be more aware of what you’re saying.

REMOVE ANYTHING THAT DOESN’T ALIGN, i’m specifally talking about social media. There are so many self degarding or depreciating content(which are always disgusied as a ‘joke’) and the more you consume it, the more you believe it.

However this can apply to your physical environment as well, such as people, sentimental objects or your actual space.

START TO REDEFINE FAILURE. There are so many ways you can define failure, but my favourite has to be failure is the sacrifice for success. Of course, you can research other ways to redefine it that resonates with you.

However, allow yourself to grieve failures, especially if they had a huge impact on your life. The only way you can apply the lessons from failure in life is to process them.

DO SOMETHING CHALLENGING EACH DAY. Whether it is giving yourself an extra 20 minutes at the gym, or trying to advance yourself in your studies, just do something that pushes you and hopefully, makes you struggle.

Once we allow ourselves to struggle and be challenged, we start to develop the belief that being challenged is okay, not doing it perfect on the first try is okay we can still do tasks without them being perfect + you’re also embracing failure.

APPRECIATE YOUR EFFORT. Something is always better than nothing, not everything that we do has to be perfect to consider ourselves accomplished. Once we acknowledge the value of hard work and see how it impacts our day-to-day life, it enforces the belief that we can expand our skills even just by a little.

The perfect way to appreciate your effort is by celebrating or rewarding yourself. Allow yourself extra screen time, to sleep in, or do any of your favourite ‘unproductive’ activities.

SEEK OUT NEW KNOWLEDGE. Not just reading an article and calling it a day, but actively researching something memorable. This doesn’t have to be a scholarly topic, it could be anything. When we start to desire to learn, which is practically the main thing about a growth mindset, it enforces those beliefs.

BUILD RESILENCE. You’re going to fail, struggle, lose and maybe suffer. While it is important to grieve what happens, you should be able to bounce back after some time. Building this skill is so important in the growth mindset, as it helps you to take control of your emotions and not the other way around.

This applies to constructive criticism as well. People will not always give you praise, but that doesn’t matter, what matters is your ability to act on that criticism. An outside perspective always helps to improve yourself and your abilities.

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waskurttrans · 2 years

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Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights

Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day. Things got heavy:

KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?

CHUCK: What?

Kurt Cobain. Rock musician. He was in a band called Nirvana.

I’m familiar with him, yes.

Was he a trans woman?

Um. No?

OK. Why not?

I mean, he wasn’t. It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.

He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space. Why wasn’t he a trans woman?

Because he didn’t transition. I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans. So no. Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.

So someone is trans if they say they’re trans. Self-determination.

That’s what you’ve told me. Is that wrong?

No, that’s right. We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us. If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.

And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.

So was I trans in 1994?

I don’t know, were you?

Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.

So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…

Right.

But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?

If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.

That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.

That’s a really good point. This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.

Come again?

Well, you’re cisgender, right?

As far as I know, yes.

Aha.

Hmmm?

You hedged. “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”. “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.

It doesn’t seem terribly likely.

That’s an interesting statement. Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans. I mean, I knew trans people existed. I knew somebody had to be trans. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.

Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?

Hey now, I’m just asking questions. You know. Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.

Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.

Am I? Oh, shit. I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt. To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it. Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing. I didn’t have any role models. I didn’t wonder if I was the only one. I was convinced of it.

So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…

I need someone like that. I need to not be the first of my kind.

Of course you’re not the first trans woman.

No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.

So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.

An egg. Right.

Why Kurt Cobain, anyway? What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?

He knew things. Things cis guys don’t know. Things I didn’t know until after I started transition. He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience. “Pennyroyal Tea”. “Rape Me”. I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.

It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.

True. Ahhh. I don’t know. I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.

Something in his eyes.

All the pictures of him. No matter what he’s doing. If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there. Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.

Huh. You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?

Maybe. Chuck, do you think I’m happier?

Since you transitioned?

Yeah.

Of course. Absolutely. Night and day.

Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it. Even in pictures, you know? I see it. You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?

You do look really different.

It’s not just me. Every single person who transitions looks like that. We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us. I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.

I don’t get it either, Kate.

And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes. Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter. There’s something trapped wanting to get out. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline. It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.

And it’s not just the eyes, either. The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”. It’s just literally egg fashion. We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.

“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?

Is it? Chuck, I was alive in 1994. I was an 18 year old egg. I know what that feels like. I know what that looks like. I lived that. Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994? Because I didn’t have the opportunity. Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were. None of us. Look. You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991? “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.” That’s what he said.

Holy shit. Really?

Really. September 14, 1991.

Hold on, let me look that up. Oh, yeah, I see it. Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock. Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks.

Well, what about the dresses?

What dresses?

Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses. Like, a lot, both onstage and off. On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.” He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses. I wear them around the house sometimes.” This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world. He was open about this. He was proud about this.

Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.

Except it’s not just clothes. Listen to his songs. Listen to his lyrics. “Should have been a son”. “I’m a lady, can you save me?” “Everyone is gay.” The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls. Let me grow some breasts.”

I mean they’re song lyrics. There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.

Sure. All kinds of ways. You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?

Nope.

Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain. He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend. And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics. For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way. He thought it’s about dicks. “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun. But not this time.” He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.” That’s not my interpretation. That’s never been my interpretation. That’s what this cis man says. More than one cis man. Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing. Yeah. There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.

“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all. His first response is revealing. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Castration.’” I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man. I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways. What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man. Had to come up with some kind of excuse. It just strikes me kind of funny.

Kurt’s songs have meanings. The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that. The lyrics he wrote have meanings. “Heart-Shaped Box”. You know what that refers to? When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.” A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart. That was what I felt like before I came out. A tiny phantom doll. Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago. Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it. What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.” And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.

You’re making it sound…

Maybe it was. Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t. To me, that’s normal. That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.

Kate, he was a punk! He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses. He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk! You think that was some kind of sex thing?

Sexuality is part of being a woman. Part. Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part. Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman? Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man. When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”. Never.

Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman. He was just a transvestite. He was a man.

Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman. Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman. Man.

Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect. Man.

Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything. Man.

Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning. He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman. Man.

Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning. Man.

All men. Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say. I know how that works. I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply. They’re still legitimate.

I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.

And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation. There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture. I can’t really know. I can’t really judge.

I mean, everybody else does. I guess I can’t tell you not to. But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.

Sure. And nothing can make him a girl. Because he’s dead. Because he killed himself.

Oh, here we go. After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria. Do you have a book deal yet?

Working on it. And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.

Right. He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.

Sure, but why did he start heroin?

I don’t know. Why does anybody start heroin?

To help him cope with his eating disorder.

Wait, what? Eating disorder?

You don’t know about that? He had stomach problems, for a long, long time. He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt. Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it. Nobody took it seriously. So he self-medicated with heroin. “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad. “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.” I know, though. Lots of cis guys have eating disorders. Doesn’t mean anything.

Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.

Yeah, I guess there is. Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? Is that necessarily wrong? Like. You’ve seen The Matrix, right?

Only the first one.

Yeah, that’s fine. So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?

Yes, but I’m not really sure why. Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.

It’s pretty trans, though, right?

Clearly. It was directed by two trans women.

And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.

I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.

OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000? In, like… a car crash or something? Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?

Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.

A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience. The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women. And we can’t prove it. We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words. Self-determination. You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain? I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit. She didn’t respect his self-determination.

Um…

“Pennyroyal Tea”. Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.” Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses.

Hell, not just that song. The whole album. In Utero. The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death". The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1. There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could. By killing himself.

That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. I was told all the same things he was. We all were. When I was 27? When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me. I was a zombie. Walking dead. When I quit, I quit cold turkey. Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome. Nobody told me it could have killed me. And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man. Forever. They would perpetuate the Lie. That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through. The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:

“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2

I felt the same way, came out for the same reason. I figured no matter what I did, I was dead. I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death. I genuinely believed transition would kill me.

It didn’t, though! You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that. It didn’t kill you.

It could have. Still could. Transition has helped, has made it easier for me, but it’s not that way with everyone. People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women. Others of us… aren’t so lucky.

Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see? Of course I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that I’m trans. You can’t prove that you’re cis. Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything. Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3. If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong? Would anybody object or complain? Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless. The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died. Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?

No?

It means making a false claim to ignorance. Claiming that we don’t know something that we do. That we can’t know something that we can. We know things now, Chuck. We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are. We know what it does to people. How eggs think. How eggs act. How eggs die. But we pretend we don’t. We still pretend. We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal. We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them. And they don’t, Chuck. We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did. It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves. We aren’t allowed to recognize each other. Individual choice or social contagion. Those are the options we’re given. And neither of them are right. Neither of them are who we are.

Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do. I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words. We know our own. We recognize each other. And if someone is alive? If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word. Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance. What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter. I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves. Once they die, all bets are off. Omerta no longer applies. Kayfabe no longer applies.

To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure. I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian. Emily Dickinson! I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit? I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters? She liked girls. She really liked girls. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian. Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”. It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves. No more. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. I can’t, as an individual, say that. I don’t have the right. No trans woman can say that, individually. But collectively? All of us together? The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too. Not all of them, and not all of us. Absolutely not all of us. But enough of us. Enough that we have the right. We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.

Kate, are you ok?

I’m fine.

Do you want a hug?

Fuck you, Chuck.

OK, well. I’m, uh. Gonna go to the other room. You should, uh. Drink some water. Stay hydrated. Love you, Kate.

Love you too, Chuck. Sorry.

Shhh. It’s OK, Kate. It’s OK.

1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”. Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.

2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/

3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/

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perlelune · 1 month

Text

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“Oh, do you mind if we take a little break?” Clemensia asks almost as soon as you’ve begun working on the task she gave you. You blink, a little confused as your gaze roams across the table. There’s still so much to do. You’re not sure if the girls are just that slow but it’s clear that it will take at least a few hours to get all of it done.

But Clemensia is in charge of the ball committee. You don’t picture yourself telling her what to do or how to do it. After all, you are an outsider. A foreign element infiltrating their ecosystem. You have to play by their rules.

If they want to take a break, who are you to argue with that?

You begin to rise.

“Oh, a break, sure…”

Clemensia’s lips pinch as you try to follow them. “It’s just that…we’ve been doing this for so long, all by ourselves. I even broke a nail.” She pouts, showing you her hands. “But it needs to be finished today.” She nibbles her bottom lip and sighs, eyes pleading yours. “If no one stays behind…”

You mull it over. While you’re not thrilled over the idea of working on the decorations by yourself, you did just get here. You suppose you could hold the fort while they stretch their legs…or whatever Clemensia and her friends like to do when they hang out.

“I guess I could stay,” you concede.

Clemensia flashes you a broad grin.

“You’re so sweet,” she chimes. “Thank you. We won’t be long, promise. Ten minutes tops.”

You shrug and return to your chair. Ten minutes. That sounds reasonable. You pick up the scissors and start cutting more of the tree shapes.

“No problem.”

But one issue arises.

The promised ten minutes expand into thirty. Then an hour. Then two. At first, you don’t let your mind dissect it too hard. It’s a stupid thing to overthink, isn’t it? A silly thing to chop into pieces until your mind bleeds with doubt and insecurity. You surmise it was more of an approximation. People do that all the time, say something while meaning another. At least you believe they do. Besides, you find ways to keep yourself busy, even getting started on the sparkly globes lying on the side of the room. You figure out how to use most of the tools on your own and get wrapped in your own bubble of quietness.

Silence is a familiar companion, the one constant that never judged you, never asked for more of you. In your Silence, you get to be you. Nothing more; nothing less. So you let yourself sink in its warm, snug embrace.

Still, somewhere in the back of your mind, thoughts meander passively… What is taking them so long? You steal a glance outside the window. Orange and purple hues are already bleeding into the sky, a sign of the evening nearing its end.

You retrieve your pocket watch from inside your skirt. A frown wrinkles your brow. At a time like this, you would usually be home, curled up with Walter on your bed as you go over your notes for the week. It often takes you hours just to decipher the course transcripts.

“Wow, you did such a great job,” Clemensia whistles from behind you.

You gasp and whirl. All smiles, the girls fill your sight.

They approach the table and examine some of the decorations you put together on your own. Realization sweeps through you as the fog of your thoughts clear. It didn’t hit you before, not until you absorbed the current state of the crafts table, brimming with the results of your solitary labor. You’ve been busy. Spinning crystal balls, pine cones, silvery garlands and a heap of snowflakes meant to hang on the walls and ceiling. Clemensia admires your handiwork, seemingly impressed.

A little peeved, you point out, “I mean…had you guys even started? Most of the decorations needed to be cut, glued or assembled…”

“I have delicate hands,” Livia sighs, examining her manicured nails.

“I’m very slow, sorry,” Ivy says apologetically.

Your frown deepens. Was this whole thing a setup? You sacrificed precious time to be here and you shudder to think the entire purpose of your presence is some kind of childish prank.

Coriolanus’ words echo in your mind. He argued the girls weren’t like that and that they left the immature tricks back at the Academy. You truly want to believe that none of this is designed to embarrass you, that perhaps, again, all of this is in your head. But your aching fingers, sore from doing crafts most of the afternoon, suggestotherwise.

Unleashing a sigh, you gather your satchel and head towards the exit.

Clemensia obstructs your path, holding up her hands in apology.

“I know we should have been back earlier. I’m so sorry. We ran into the Dean and it turned into a whole thing.” She seizes your hands, remorse twisting her pretty features. “I feel so horrible. I invited you so we could do it together as friends.”

Your shoulders slump. As you soak in the look of genuine contrition on her face, doubts lurk inside you. Your confidence about being the victim of some prank wavers. Perhaps, you overreacted. Incidents happen. Besides, the chances of you joining Clemmie’s committee are slim, as you’re already swamped with assignments. A promise was made and you kept it. But this likely will be a one time thing. School dances are at the bottom of your priority list right now.

So you discard it all with a wave of your hand and a contrived smile.

“It’s okay. No apology needed. It’s not your fault.” You note how much darker it’s gotten outside. “I should go back home though. It’s already so late-”

Clemensia stops you again, her hand tightening around yours as she offers excitedly, “Wait, you should come to game night at Liv’s.”

“What?” Livia snickers. Clemensia shoots her a withering glare and the blonde clears her throat, correcting herself, “I mean…yeah, you totally should come.”

You fidget and adjust the strap of your satchel. You may have heard whispers of those game nights. Mystique surrounds them as only a few chosen people are invited to attend. You, of course, were never invited. And it isn’t hard to gather how Livia feels about you coming from her reaction. Why force your way into places where you aren’t wanted?

“I’m already behind on my revising for the day. If I don’t go over my Molecular-”

“Boring,” Ivy sings sarcastically.

“Don’t be mean, Ivy,” Clemensia scolds, elbowing her in the rib.

Clemensia tilts her head, her tone turning beseeching.

“Please…I really want to get to know you better.” She huffs out a long breath as she seems to sense your hesitation. The brunette leans closer, hands clutching your forearms. Sympathy twinkles in her onyx orbs. “You know, I used to be a lot like you. Always striving to be the best at everything I do.” A hollow giggle slips through her lips. “It’s how I got in trouble with your mother actually…I wanted to win so badly and she decided to teach me a lesson.” Sadness pinches her delicate features. “But by always striving for greatness, you miss out on life. I learnt that during the Games...”

“...Surviving isn’t living.”

She studies you before saying, “And it’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Surviving.”

Eyes on the ground, you chew on your lip. You never imagined someone like Clemensia Dovecote - the most beautiful, popular girl at the University - could feel this way…let alone relate to you.

“Clemmie…”

She hunkers a little so your eyes meet.

“Come on, I really want to make up for today.” She laughs. “Show you I’m not a bitch.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch,” you say.

She places her palm on your cheek. “See? You’re so nice. That’s why I want us to be friends.” She bends over your ear, the words she mutters almost too quiet to be heard, “I can barely stand those two on most days, but appearances must be kept.”

Your gaze swings upward, shock pulsing through you.

She beams at you. “It’ll be an intimate gathering of just a select group, close friends. We play cards, chat, and have a few drinks. That’s it.”

Your forehead creases.

“I don’t drink.”

Squeezing your shoulders, she assures you, “Then I’ll make sure not a drop of alcohol passes your lips. Promise.”

“It’s casual, I swear. You can even leave early if you want.”

This grabs your attention, as you aren’t sure you’ll make it through the night without craving to return to the safe, familiarity of your apartment. The potential for escape makes the offer far more enticing.

Obviously, Clemensia cares about you showing up. While you don’t fully grasp why, you also never had anyone go out of their way to spend time with you. During the Academy days, everyone avoided you like the plague, either finding you odd or fearing you were as terrifying as your mother. The University doesn’t seem much different so far, groups having already formed from previous camaraderie. Bonds that were forged years ago and cemented over time while you endured in the back of the class. The forgotten one. And you always figured it is the most you can aspire for. Being ignored and left alone.

Until now.

“Really?”

Clemensia’s smile widens.

“Yes. You can stay as long as you want and leave.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a party,” you muse, pursing your lips. Your tiny, limited wardrobe has always prioritized function over fashion. There are your Academy uniforms, a few loose, unflattering clothes you rotate between. A single formal dress more suited for a funeral than a game night. Nothing impressive because you never had anyone to impress.

You also have no sense of fashion, the trends shifting too quickly for you to keep up. So you’ve stopped trying to.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” she chimes. “The girls and I always get ready at each other’s house anyway. And you’re one of the girls now.”

You peer down at you and Clemensia’s entwined hands. One of the girls. No one’s ever spoken about you that way. As if your mere presence made something better, uplifting it instead of leading it to its ruin. As if you were solid, more than a wisp of air, a waste of breath. As if you mattered. So, despite the sizzling weight of Livia’s blue eyes on you, you smile back at Clemmie and give a bashful nod.

Your eyes feast on every detail of Clemensia’s living room as you enter her home. Her parents’ apartment is every bit as large and opulent as you imagined. Every exquisite detail screams wealth. The unabashed, showy kind that stoked the embers of bitter unfairness in the Districts, leading the Capitol to where it is today. A city risen from the ashes. Your attention lingers on the expensive artwork exposed in glass cabinets. A lot of it appears to be memorabilia from before the war. You’re willing to bet the combined value of every overpriced trinket in the house could feed an entire District. Paintings of Clemmie’s illustrious ancestors hang over the damask walls, their stern stares seeming to follow you. Almost as if they were ready to leap from the eroded gilded frames and berate you for being an intruder in their family home.

Clemensia tugs you along.

“What are you dawdling for? Come on,” she urges.

You trail behind her as she takes you to her bedroom. You smile when you see it. The somber, tasteful hues are so very her. The hinges of her wardrobe whine as she opens the large, wooden doors. A vertiginous row of clothes crowd your sight. You gawk, a little amazed but also slightly terrified. Who needs this many clothes? A sour expression scrunches her features.

“I know,” she sighs, placing a hand on her hip. “This is a little embarrassing. Most of these are soo last season.”

You tilt your head at her dizzying collection of shoes, clothes, accessories…the kind a legion of girls would kill for.

“Right,” you blindly agree. Nevermind you can’t even tell the difference. You glance around. “Shouldn’t Livia and Ivy be here too?”

Her brow twitches as she sits on her massive canopy bed. She pats the spot next to her and you awkwardly plop down. The plush silk and soft mattress dip under your weight.

“We decided to meet later,” she reveals. She pauses, a heavy sigh fluttering through her painted red lips before adding, “Besides, I told them to be nicer to you and they got upset and pretended not to know what I was talking about.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

She waves her manicured hand dismissively.

“No, don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” Clemensia licks her lips, her face etched with reflection, as if she were assessing the weight of her words before releasing them. Her hand settles on your arm.

“Look, here’s the thing. Livia’s had a crush on Coriolanus since he returned and they had a sort of fling.” Your mouth drops open. This is news to you. You didn’t catch any hint of lingering longing between the two back at their lunch table. But now that you’re mulling it over, perhaps…Perhaps, Livia’s eyes kept seeking Coriolanus’, while his treaded their own path, never crossing hers. “Things were going pretty well...for a little while. But then, you came along.”

Your brows furrow. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Clemensia’s bell-like laughter resonates in the room.

“God, you’re a sweet thing…just like Snow said.” She beams at you. “Don’t worry. Liv will get over it. She’s all bark and no bite, trust me.”

Her attention travels to the dark fabric peeking from your bag.

“What’s that?” she asks, pulling out the garment.

“The only dress I have.”

She inspects it with a displeased frown.

“Were you planning on wearing this?” She shakes her head as your mouth clamps shut. “Oh, this will not do.”

She takes your hand and drags you to her wardrobe. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she rummages through a numberless heap of garments.

“I have some clothes that my cousin left,” she explains while frantically searching. After a while, victory flares in her orbs. She unhooks a sleek, crimson dress with a tight bodice and flowing sleeves from a hanger. She holds it against your body, chiming, “She’s about your size so they should fit you.”

“I can’t accept this, Clemmie.”

You attempt to push her hands away but the brunette shoves it in your arms, insisting on you at least trying it on. You press the soft fabric between your fingers. It’s more revealing and form-fitting than you’re used to. You gather it would cling to your body like a second skin…one you aren’t used to wearing. Still, you must admit that it’s a lovely dress. One that could look good even on you. Temptation claws at your resolve, digging deeper and deeper grooves, right into every insecurity you ever had. That thing other girls had that always eluded you. That little secret you were never privy to. The key to that door that never opened. The dress is the key. And you find yourself unable to resist turning the lock to find out what secrets lie beyond that mysterious door.

Beneath Clemmie’s eager stare, you remove your clothes and slip on the dress.

Smug satisfaction hovers on her lips as you peer at your reflection. Words fizzle out on your tongue. You are looking at a complete stranger.

Clemmie rests her chin on your shoulder. “See? I knew it.”

She then has you sit at her vanity to help you do your makeup. Do your makeup…The words sound alien even in the private confines of your thoughts.

As she draws a neat black line over your eyelids, she says, “It hasn’t been long since makeup’s returned to the Capitol again. It used to be near impossible to find.” When she’s done, she turns you towards the vanity mirror. “Those colors will bring out your eye shape and color.”

The air leaves your lungs in a quick rush. You lean closer to the mirror, once again in disbelief that you are truly looking at your own face.

Fingers twisting the delicate fabric of the dress, you pivot to Clemmie.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you blurt out.

Her eyes widen briefly before her expression softens.

“You remind me of me.”

Confusion surges through you. There is an ocean of glaring differences between you and Clemmie, one you couldn’t swim through if you tried.

“What?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t always this confident.”

Your brows knit, Clemmie’s statement making little sense. If confidence wore a face and had a name, it’d be Clemensia Dovecote’s.

Gripping your shoulders, she turns your focus back onto your dolled-up appearance.

“Alright. Look in the mirror, what do you see?”

You blink. You see a girl playing dress-up, pretending, but you don’t utter those words aloud. They sound lame, even in your own head.

“Nothing,” you tritely respond, dipping your head.

She lifts your chin, moving her head to disagree.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her eyes twinkle. “I see infinite potential. So stop selling yourself short.” Covering her mouth, she laughs. “His jaw is going to drop.”

“Whose jaw?”

She smirks at you. “You know whose jaw.”

Heat sneaks inside your face.

You fidget in the chair. It’s not like what he thinks matters, right? He is no one to you, just that boy with the unsettling blue stare who won’t leave you be for some strange reason.

So why is there a tiny shiver of excitement coursing through your veins when the thought of him seeing you like that permeates your brain?

A vigorous gust of common sense sweeps away your wayward musings.

You don’t care what he thinks. Of course you don’t.

“I-It’s not really my style,” you stammer as you get to your feet.

The sparkle in her onyx orbs doesn’t waver.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have a style yet…so how would you even know?”

“Shouldn’t we be at Livia’s already?” you ask, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

She considers you as if you were the most endearing thing in the world. She grabs your hands. “Here’s another rule. Never be on time for anything.” A haughty smirk creeps upon her red lips. “Make them wait for you, not the other way around.” She cocks her head. “One of the things about confidence is knowing that you are the sun, and standing in your orbit is a rare privilege.” She scoffs, “People should feel lucky you even bothered showing up.”

She approaches you and touches up parts of your hair, visibly elated with the result.

“Perfect,” she trills. “Like I said…potential.”

She herself finishes getting ready. As you absently meander about her room, the doorbell chimes.

Clemmie pauses as she applies powder on her face. She sets aside her makeup tools and escorts you to the lobby, arm threaded with yours.

“Must be our chauffeur,” she states.

Your eyes round. “You have a chauffeur?”

She cloisters herself in cryptic silence, humming as she drags you along.

When the brunette swings the door open, a towering, familiar figure darkening her doorway, time hangs still for a few seconds.

Your mouth opens wide enough to catch flies.

A smug smile unfurls on his lips.

“Angel,” he greets, gaze locking with yours as he completely ignores Clemmie.

Her sharp irritated tone shatters the spell.

“You’re late, Snow.”

Coriolanus snickers.

“As if you’re ever on time.”

You trail behind Clemmie as she and Coriolanus keep bantering, his presence still swaddling you in sheer shock. When she tries to take the passenger seat, he drapes a placating hand over hers.

She rolls her eyes and begrudgingly heads to the back of the car.

He opens the car door for you. Recalling the fruitlessness of arguing with him, you climb into the seat. Still, saying you feel awkward riding in the front while the brunette is sulking in the backseat would be a massive understatement.

Few words can accurately describe how peculiar all of this is for you.

“You look surprised,” Coriolanus notes as he takes his own seat and slams the door shut. Your heart misses a beat when his hot breath caresses your earshell. “I did say I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

You look down at your lap. Breathing is laborious, the air in the vehicle coated with the lingering smell of his pricey cologne. You are literally choking on Coriolanus Snow with every breath you take.

“Will you just drive, Snow?” Clemmie snaps, crossing her arms.

“Relax. Patience is a virtue,” he says, not sparing her a glance, zeroing in on you instead. The drumming of your heart swells to an uproar in your ears when he reaches across your body. You hold still while he ties your seatbelt for you. Blue eyes rake over your form in brazen appraisal, his deep voice lowering. “And good things come to those who wait.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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actual-changeling · 5 months

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i think it's hard to understand the level of betrayal crowley must have felt, which leads to a lot of assumptions around him easily forgiving aziraphale or not being angry; so let's put ourselves into his position.

imagine: your partner, your best friend, the one person in the world that you love more than anyone else, asks you to change how you look, how you talk, who you are—so you can follow them back to an abusive household that threw you out and told you to never come back.

and they tell you that happy and excited and it's not even a question, it's a "by the way, we're doing that, isn't that great?"

you try to tell them no, it's not, i don't want to go back there, i like who i am now. they hurt me and scarred me for life, and they will do it again.

the person you loves, the person you thought loves you, looks at you and says "but you're bad. don't you want to be good? they can make you good."

come with me, you say. that house doesn't want us, we can have our own, we can build our own home. just the two of us, we don't need them, we're fine the way we are.

"i can change them" they say, as if you didn't try. as if you didn't try to change them first. as if that wasn't the reason they threw you to the wolves.

fuck it, you say. you confess your love anyway because they must know, right? they need to know. "don't leave me" you beg, plead, pray.

"oh," they respond, smiling. "nothing lasts forever."

you try to walk away, they stop you, they make it worse, make it clear they don't understand you like you thought. do they love you or the version of you they created in their head? you can't tell anymore.

"we could have been us," you say. we could have been happy.

you kiss them because you have to, because you will be damned twice over if you lose them without kissing them, because your patience snaps and you think you might die if you don't kiss them right now.

it doesn't change anything. "i forgive you"—for being me? for loving you? for refusing to tear myself apart? for kissing you? it's not like it matters. they're gone. you watch them leave.

would you immediately forgive them if they showed up on your doorstep? or would you be heartbroken and angry? you miss them, you still love them, but FUCK YOU. fuck you for demanding that of me. fuck you for everything you said. FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING.

six thousand years. six thousand years.

it would already be hard to forgive a person you have loved for two years or ten, and it gets worse the longer you know them. six thousand fucking years and aziraphale did that. we know why he did. we know how their story will end, but crowley doesn't.

all crowley has is aziraphale's speech and his face disappearing behind elevator doors. all crowley has is you're the bad guys and come with me and nothing lasts forever and i need you and i forgive you.

love alone does not and cannot fix that. aziraphale took six thousand years of trust and set them on fire with a smile on his face, and i understand the urge to try and find an explanation where he doesn't do that. where everything is secretly fine.

but there isn't.

aziraphale needs to rebuild that trust, he needs to earn it again. and mot importantly, he needs to understand why his words and actions broke it in the first place. but even then—even if crowley is the kindest possible version of himself and aziraphale does everything right—even then crowley would have every single right to say i don't forgive you. i love you and i understand you, we can be together, but i cannot forgive you for that and we both have to live with that now.

they will get their happy ending, i do truly believe that, but it might not be the fairy tale happily ever after you imagine and that's okay. it still counts. it's still good.

let crowley be angry and let them find their way back to each other, even if that path does not include forgiveness.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Note

Could you maybe write something where alessia is dating leahs sister or something? Like alessia and reader fight and leah overhears and trys to protect y/n going straight into overprotective big sister mode.

miscommunication II a.russo x williamson!reader

miscommunication II a.russo

“hey, baby you played brilliantly.” you sat down beside your girlfriend and murmured, placing a hand on your leg. “get off.” the taller blonde warned quietly, shoving your hand off her leg and shuffling away from you further down the bench.

most of the team had filtered out by now, no one really wanting to sit around and reflect on the 4-0 flogging they’d just taken from chelsea which had cost them precious points at this stage of the season.

you however had been absolutely no help to them.

picking up a concussion after you’d not been paying attention in training and ran right into the goal post when trying to go in for a tackle had meant you’d been benched this week for monitoring.

much as you had protested the decision there wasn't a chance your sister would let you risk any sort of injury, the blonde captain of your national team simply fixing you with her infamously stern glare any time you tried.

“lessi-“ you tried again, moving back closer to your girlfriend as she started to take off her boots and socks. “don’t.” was all she mumbled before you could even say a word, again shuffling away from you and shoving her shoes and socks into the kit bag at her feet.

“love please you’re being way too hard on yourself it’s a team sport and you-“ you reached out toward her, flinching as she shoved your hand away and stood suddenly.

“can’t you take a hint? just stay away from me.” your girlfriend snapped, a move incredibly out of character for the normally kind and well mannered blonde you’d fallen in love with, slinging her bag over her shoulder and storming out of the change rooms, drawing the attention and concern of several of your team mates who watched on.

"hey maybe just let her cool-" you heard jen start to warn but never one to believe in leaving things unresolved you ignored her.

chasing after the striker and grabbing her shoulder you tensed as she she spun around and advanced on you instead, having you stumbling backwards.

“i don’t want to hear the same shit you spew every week about how it’s a team sport and no one has a bad game and we can pick ourselves up-“ the taller girl started, practically chest to chest with you now backed up against the wall as a frown etched itself into your eyebrows at her aggressive demeanour.

“you didn’t even play! not that you’d have been any help anyway with how reckless and careless you are half the time which is how you ended up concussed in the first place. you’d have probably cost us a fifth goal!” your stomach dropped at the harsh words, coming from anyone else your skin was thick enough to brush it off, but coming from her? it hurt.

unknown to both you and alessia you weren’t the only one who overheard, your older sister hearing the blondes harsh words and immediately following the source of the noise.

“less baby if this is about what you asked me before please just can we sit down and talk about it? you ran off before you even gave me a chance to-” you grabbed her hands hoping to try and bring her back to baseline but it was no use as she snatched them away.

the girl had caught you off guard during warm ups and had asked you an extraordinarily important question. but not expecting it you'd panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, though before you had time to explain your reasoning she was called back onto the pitch.

“no actually we can’t. you made yourself very clear and if i’m honest it’s got me thinking about it we even have a future if you can’t even consider something like that.” she snapped pushing at your chest as you tried to hug her, clearly frustrated from a shit game and your earlier argument as you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes at the thought of losing her.

“oh and here come the waterworks! that’s convenient isn’t it? the moment something doesn’t go your way you just cry about it. you made me feel about two centimeters tall before and you didn't seem to care then, you’re pathetic.” with that she shoved your chest one last time and turned to leave, only to be met with the burning glare of your very infuriated and incredibly overprotective older sister who’d heard everything as she raced down the hallway.

“what the fuck did you just say to her?” leah growled, balling alessia’s shirt in her fists and harshly pushing her against the wall as a few more of the girls poked their heads out of the change rooms at the commotion.

“get off me leah you haven’t got a clue so why don’t you just keep your nose out of it for once!” alessia snapped as she struggled to break out of the older girls grip, who may have been shorter but sure as hell wasn’t letting her go that easy.

a brief shock flickered across the captains face at the tone and harsh words from the normally soft spoken girl, but all of that disappeared the moment her eyes glanced right and she saw the tear tracks down your cheeks.

“i don’t care if we lose ten to nothing you do not ever speak to her like that you hear me? as her girlfriend, as her friend, as her team mate as anything. far as i can see alessia you’re the pathetic one!" leah shouted as alessia's face paled.

"she did nothing but cheer for you that entire game less, she has always been your biggest fan. and then you’re gonna come here after a piss poor performance by the entire team and take your frustration with that out to rip her down? think again.” your sister growled as alessia struggled to push her off to no success at all.

"lee just get off her, it's a misunderstanding please let her go!" you tried to pry your sisters hands off but she elbowed you away with a shake of her head.

“what did i say to you when you both started dating hm? what did i say alessia? what did you promise me?” leah spat, pushing her against the wall with a loud thump as she saw red and her jaw clenched. “to treat her with respect.” alessia mumbled, wincing as leahs grip tightened, her hand moving to tug on her collar now restricting her airway.

“does that look like she’s been treated with some fucking respect alessia? does it?” leah growled, forcing the blonde to look at you as jen and beth stepped in to try and pull the older girl away. “leah just let her go please it’s fine.” you finally spoke, your voice cracking as you looked at her pleadingly.

“leah thats enough now. let her go!” kim warned seriously as leah’s eyes looked to you, softening at the pleading look on your face as she released the taller striker who immediately bent over coughing and spluttering trying to catch her breath.

“i have never been so disappointed in someone i trust and call a close friend alessia, never.” leah bent down to deliver one final blow, ignoring everyone else who shoved her away.

“we’re going, come.” leah ordered firmly, slinging an arm over your shoulder and dragging you off, your eyes meeting your girlfriends for a fleeting moment as she sat on the ground drinking water before you turned the corner and she was gone.

“would you like to tell me what that was about now please?” your sister asked much more calmly as she pulled into the driveway of your shared flat, the drive home being filled with a suffocating and uncomfortable silence as leah tried to calm herself down.

"you shouldn't have done that." was all you responded with a shake of your head, unbuckling yourself and hastily exiting her car. with a sigh leah did the same, unlocking the car after her and following you inside your shared home.

"shouldn't have stuck up for you? tough luck kid, that's my job." leah warned, following you to your bedroom and sticking her foot in the door as you tried to close it. "just leave me alone." you mumbled into your pillow as you belly flopped into your bed.

"come on. we both know alessia and no matter how much i want to go back and yell at her some more that was out of character for her even after a loss. so what happened?" leah sat down on the edge of your bed, poking at you until you smacked her hands away with a huff and rolled onto your back, covering your face with your arms.

"she asked me to move in with her before the game and i said no." you mumbled quietly, leah pausing for a second to make sure she heard you correctly.

"right, i see." leah nodded slowly. "it doesn't at all excuse how she treated you and i'm still angry with her. but why did you say no?" your sister finished more softly, tapping your leg as you shuffled over and she laid down beside you.

"well cause you need me here, that's the whole reason i moved out of my place and in with you anyway when my lease ended." you quickly excused as leahs head swiveled sideways with a raised eyebrow. "you do! you can't cook, you don't clean, you never go shopping, you-" you started to list things off.

"okay okay no. i can cook, i can clean, i can go shopping. and as for what i know is coming next i don't need you like that anymore. you've been there for me through all of this and through rehab and my surgery but i'm coming out the other side now, i can do things for myself and i've missed that independance." leah smiled sadly, knowing that wasn't the real reason you'd said no.

"plus you hate living with me we argue like twenty two hours of the day." your sister playfully shoved your head making you roll your eyes. "i don't hate it." you mumbled with a sigh. "what's the real reason? no bullshit. you know i can see through you when you lie anyway!" leah pointed out truthfully as you again shrugged and stated it was nothing.

"right, you leave me no choice then." leah grunted as she pulled herself into a sitting position and you gave her a weird look. "what?" you questioned.

"if you won't tell me the truth then i guess we have to do the lie detector like when we were little." leah sighed as your eyes widened and you tried to roll off the bed but your sister was too fast.

"leah no!" you grunted as she sat on top of you and pinned your arms under her knees. "you want to live with me instead of your girlfriend? lie!" leah yelled, poking her bony fingers into your ribs and making you wheeze and struggle to shove her off.

"you told her no because of me? lie!" she yelled again and continued as you furiously tried to push her away. "okay okay fine! get off me and get those bony little sausages away from me." you huffed as she finally let you up, collapsing back down beside you.

"god you're the worst." you groaned, bruises more than likely already forming from the assault. "that sounds like a lie?" leah half sat up as you hurriedly pushed her away making her laugh.

"so, why'd you tell her no then? the truth."

"i'm scared." you admitted, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment. "of what? that girl looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky, its quite sickening really." leah sighed wrenching your hands away.

"well we obviously got together during the euros, then she went back to manchester and i came back to london. we made that work, didn't see each other every day of course but still stayed strong and together." you started as leah hummed.

"then we went to the world cup together, that was fine, things were good. again, with training schedules and room assignments we still had time together and separate." you continued.

"then she moved to arsenal, and of course to london. we see each other all the time, we actually get to have date nights and our time together is just as meaningful as when we were doing distance only this time its so much easier." you sighed, leah still nodding along.

"but we're still able to have time apart. if we move in together we'll see each other at training and at games and then we'll come home and be together like all day every day. i don't want her to get sick of me or for us to fight more or well you know..." you trailed off again burying your face in your hands.

"break up?" leah winced, knowing exactly why this was a fear of yours given its exactly what had happened to her and jordan, something she had seemingly been a little too honest with you about.

"yeah." you sighed, dragging your hands down your face with a huff. "but all i said was no and then she got called away for the game and then we lost and well you already know the rest." leah nodded, a silence falling between the two of you.

before either of you could break it there was a few knocks at the door. "i'll get it." your sister stood up, leaving you behind to wallow in your pity as she pulled open the door, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the blonde before her.

"hi leah." alessia mumbled, nervously playing with her hands as the older blondes features hardened. "is she here?" your girlfriend asked quietly, leah just staring her down silently. "leah i am so sorry for what i said, i didn't mean a word of it but i need to let her know that please." alessia begged, leah's jaw clenching.

"wait here." and with that the door closed right back into the strikers face.

"it's less." leah leaned in the door frame of your bedroom with her arms crossed as you sat right up. "wait! are you sure? you don't want to give it a little bit of time?" your sister hinted blocking your door. "no i don't. leah i love you and i know you mean well and you will always be my big bad scary sister. but you owe her an apology as well, think it over." you patted her shoulder and ducked under her arm.

your sister giving you your space headed to her own room, though not before giving alessia a very stern glare as you took a deep breath and opened the door.

"hey." "hi." "could i please come in?" you moved aside to let her in, the two of you moving to the living room and taking a seat on the lounge, leaving a fair space between you both.

"i'm really sorry- "i am so sorry-"

you both stopped and shared a small smile, faces both flushed bright red as you nodded for alessia to start.

"so i very obviously owe you an apology. i-look it's not an excuse by any means but i was so confused and frustrated with you saying no and then we lost and i played terribly. i was just...angry and hurt and i lashed out at you which was so unfair." alessia sighed, rubbing her cheeks with her hands.

"but none of what i said was true or right or okay. please i promise you that's not at all how i look at you or how i want you to think of yourself." she pleaded, shuffling a little closer and when you didn't move away she gently placed a hand on your knee.

"it's not. i'm not saying that what you said or how you reacted is okay but i understand you weren't thinking right. i should have recognized you needed some space to cool off before trying to push you into a conversation, and i'm sorry for that." alessia's shoulder visibly sagged in relief as your hand came to rest atop hers.

"so can i ask why you said no to moving in with me?" alessia asked, and you could easily see the disappointment she was trying to hide behind her bright blue eyes.

"when we were doing distance it was hard but it made me appreciate what time we did have together so much, and the same went during tournaments when we'd get the fleeting moments off together just the two of us to go and explore or have a coffee or even just sit and talk." you started to explain, the blonde following your every word.

"then you joined arsenal and moved to london and please i'm not saying i'm not grateful for having you so much closer and being able to see you every single day because i really am. and i know that you moving clubs was not just because of me by any means." you clarified quickly, squeezing her hand which laid dormant on your knee still.

"but i started to panic that if we already played together, trained together, did national camps together and then lived together that, well that we could fight more or you could get sick of me and we might break up and i really don't want that to happen!" you rushed out your final few sentences, afraid of what her reaction might be.

"oh love." alessia gave you a pained smile, moving her hand so that your fingers interlocked. "i could never ever get sick of you, we could spend every minute of every day together for the rest of my life and i would die a very happy woman." she pressed a few soft kisses to your knuckles.

"i can see why you panicked i probably could have started the conversation in a better way and a better time. i do really want us to move in together, but if you're not ready that's okay too." the striker promised as you nodded.

"i'm ready. i love you, but we have to make sure we work on our communication and our trust so that things like this don't happen again." you answered gently as your girlfriend eagerly agreed.

"and if you ever speak to me like that again i won't need leah because i'll knock you out myself." you warned, a smile curling onto the italians lips. "no you wouldn't." she teased lightly. "no i wouldn't, but it doesn't matter because leah would have done it already for me." you added on, alessia's face paling at the thought.

"you're not wrong there." both your heads turned to see the girl in question had returned, stern look on her face. "leah." you sent her a look of your own as she sighed.

"less i'm sorry for getting physical with you but i'm not sorry for standing up for my little sister. i meant it you need to treat her with respect and i'll always be here to remind you if you forget again." your sister warned as alessia nodded furtively and you sighed with a shake of your head.

"you say little as if i'm not only two years younger lee." you groaned as the blonde shrugged, sending alessia one last look and a nod before wandering off to the kitchen. "so we're okay?" your girlfriend asked nervously, taking your hands back into hers.

"yeah we are. i love you." you smiled softly, leaning in to kiss her sweetly, pulling away too soon for the blondes liking as she used your intertwined hands to tug your mouth back to meet hers. until a pillow smacked both of you in the side of the head.

"nah there is to be no making out on my sofa!"

#leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #woso #leah williamson #alessia russo #woso fanfics

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angelltheninth · 5 days

Note

I need you to hear me out-

“Let’s ruin ourselves for anyone else” with Clark Kent for the smutty one liners

Hope you have a good day ✨

Hope you have a good day too!

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, first time having sex, size difference, gentle sex, strength kink, whimpering, blushing, size kink

Word count: 0.8k

A/N: The MAWS fandom has some kind of hivemind cause we all decided that Clark Kent was 100% a virgin.

2. "Let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

"How... I'm sorry... but how am I supposed to fit this," Clark looked at his rock hard cock, "into there?" and then at where his finger was, inside your pussy. He was scared of this exact thing. There was always a chance he was too big for you, Clark was a mountain of a man after all.

You laughed, "Clark, you know that hole can push out a baby right? I can take that big cock of yours." You tried to make him feel better but you were nervous too. Your heartbeat drummed in his ears, making him sweat. When he moved his finger again your pussy clenched around it.

"But my finger is already filling you, what if I hurt you. I can hold back but I can't do anything about my size." He pulled his finger out to compare. His cock was quite a bit thicker. When he wrapped his hand around it the tip still fully peaked out, red and covered with pre. "And you're so small compared to me. What happens if I hurt you and ruin this?"

Doubt was written all over the superhero's face, and fear.

He could stop missiles with his hands, fly around the whole world whenever he wanted, move buildings and crush tanks. Compared to all of that you were as fragile as glass. "Then how about this..." You pulled him closer with your legs, both of you moaning when his cock parted your folds. "Clark, lets ruin ourselves for anyone else."

"What... do you mean?" His blue eyes were full of hesitation. You quirked your eyebrow at him. "Oh, it's your first time too isn't it? See, that's even more reason why I should-" His breath stopped as you took the big tip of his cock, "Should... what was I saying?" He linked a few times, eyes suddenly only able to look at where your bodies joined, "Gosh."

"How. The. Hell. Are. You. Real." You asked between kissing his square jaw. Clark grinned to himself, squaring his shoulders to appear even bigger.

"I'm from space so I'm not sure myself." Good, he seemed to be a bit more relaxed now. "I know you're trying to calm me down, but I can hear your heartbeat too. It feels like I should be the one calming you down, you're the one who'll take... it."

"It? And what exactly will I take, hm Clark?" Rolling your hips downwards you took him past his cockhead, your pussy clenching and loosening around him.

His blush went all the way down his chest. Clark never cursed, dirty talk was new to him. He did try his best, he knew you enjoyed it, hearing him say all the filthy things.

"My... cock, you'll take as much as you can. I'd love if you could take all of actually! But please don't push yourself to." Always so sweet. You nodded and urged him forward again, little by little, he probably didn't even feel pushing past your hymen but you sure did. "Can I keep going? You got really tight, did that hurt?"

"You... feel bigger than you look. Fuck, I love it. I think I'm already addicted to your big cock." You had no problem admitting that, the heat between your legs, the pressure and fullness was already getting to your head.

"My big... oh my gosh." His eyes shut closed, focusing on how he feels, trying to hone in on the increasing heartbeat, the pulsing and drumming of his own heart. He wanted to be here in this moment, with nothing from the outside world interfering. As he nudged his hips forward he suddenly found them pressed against yours. "Huh? Is it-?"

You whimpered as he tried to move but found he had no more space to do so. "Jesus, Clark, give me a minute."

"Sorry." He smiled from ear to ear, "I just can't believe you actually managed to take me." Clark leaned down for a series of quick kisses. "This feels really nice. Is it nice for you too?"

You bobbed your head and leaned it against his broad shoulder, pressing kisses along the muscle. Since you couldn't bit him your lipstick would be enough. "You can rock back and forth a little, I want to feel you move with me." He waited for you to start but the moment you started moving back he met your hips with his.

There was simply no part of Clark Kent that wanted to be rough with you. It went against his nature. You heard him groan next to your ear when your inner walls fluttered around him, your pussy taking him to the balls and your legs keeping him there. The vibrations seemed like they traveled through his whole body.

Moments after the same happened to you, your body pressing against his, nails raking down his back, "Clar- mmn! Don't move please." You didn't think you'd come so quickly, not with all the toys you used before but it seems neither of them had anything on Clark's real cock. Like a real hero he didn't let go, not until you stopped shaking so he could pull you into a proper, deep kiss.

Your smaller frame was completely enveloped in everything that was him, all his love and gentleness and muscly mass.

#clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent fanfiction #superman x reader #superman imagine #superman smut #superman fanfiction #clark kent x female reader #superman x female reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics smut #dc comics fanfiction #dc comics x female reader #maws x reader #x female reader #smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

wibta if i keep having sex with my friends dad? nsfw warning

i (20s cismale) got invited by my friend (20s nonbinary) to try out some new edibles they made last thursday. this isnt too weird because both of us are unemployed (they get disability, i get money from unemployment, and we both live with our parents) and usually during the day their dad (50s cismale) is at work so we get the house to ourselves. well last thursday was different because i came over late in the night when their dad was home, and he offered to make me some dinner too. i get the munchies really bad so i was immediately like yes please and thank you while i fucked off to my friends room. we played some smash bros while we waited for the cookies to kick in, and when it started to hit his dad called us both out for dinner. dinner was great, and his dad is super chill — so he let us raid his alcohol cabinet. i dont think he knew either of us were stoned for the record (im naturally really quiet/dont make eye contact, my friend sounds high 24/7 naturally) so i dont think he was like trying to get anyone drunk or anything. my tolerance is pretty good but my friends is shit so it didnt take long until they were like blackout drunk and passing out on the couch, while their dad and i were both drunk too (not blackout but pretty drunk, and i was still high) and sitting on the opposite side of the couch next to eachother

important fact about me - i crossdress like femboys or whatever theyre called. i like looking really feminine and cute and confusing people. im not trans or anything like that gender is just a game and i am winning it. but i do tend to dress up in very egirl/goth gf clothes if you know what i mean, and i look pretty convincing ive been told (friend tells me i would pass for ciswoman with the makeup on). i think their dad maybe forgot that i was me (he usually sees me in boy clothes) and he started hitting on me? i didnt think i was gay or bi either until he started doing it and i got really flustered but i didnt stop him? again i was fucked up so the attention felt really nice despite it being my friends dad. but anyways he kept getting closer until he kissed me, and it felt nice so i let it keep going? which was probably super fucked up in retrospect. but anyways stuff gets hot and steamy, their dad doesnt bother lifting up my skirt, one thing leads to another and we have sex. he definitely noticed im not a girl during that (its pretty hard to miss lol) but he didnt stop so we kept going for a while

after we were done he and i passed out on the couch in a kind of awkward position, we both woke up in the morning and i think thats when he realized im me, but he didnt seem to freak out even though hes straight?? or at least i thought he was straight. but we had sex again in the morning and then when my friend woke up we all had breakfast and i went back to my friends room and we hung out more and got high again. while we were though i accidentally spilled the beans to my friend, and they FREAKED out on me and said that i was so gross for doing that, and they cant believe that it happened, stuff like that. they kicked me out of their room and their dad had to drive me home because i was shaking bad from it. but while their dad drove me home i was super pissed and mad and not thinking straight (haha) and so i tried to convince their dad to take a detour so we could fuck again. and he was like, okay sure, so we did?? but now i feel horrible for doing it knowing that it grossed my friend out so much, but i really like their dad and he seems to like me too, and i want to keep banging him :(

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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louvemione · 6 months

Text

illicit affairs (part two) — d. malfoy (draco's pov)

synopsis : Draco watched as Y/n slowly walked out of his life and wonders why their relationship is considered illicit.

warning/s : angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, profanity, written in first person, pureblood! reader (this isn't really important & would only be implied)

author's note : like promised, here is part two of illicit affairs 🥳 but i feel like i didn't write it properly 🥲 hopefully, you guys get the message i'm trying to get through!

<- part one | part three ->

leave the perfume on the shelf

that you picked out just for him

sixth year

"why is it that you no longer wear your signature perfume? I used to love it" that was probably a dumb and unnecessary question to ask

but can you blame me? I just need the slightest reasons and I would gladly start a conversation with her. as crazy as it sounds, I'd most definitely take every opportunity to talk to her.

she was silent for a moment, luckily it was only us sitting by the fire, "there's absolutely no reason for me to wear it but i'm glad you loved it"

i hate this. i hate the awkward silence between me and her, i hate that she's distancing herself from me and i hate that i am pretty much aware of it, i hate not being able to tell her how much i adore her, i hate not being true to myself, i hate—

"i'll go to my dorms now, it was nice talking to you" she didn't wait for my response and continued to walk to her dormitory, i hate when she's formal, it's as if we weren't friends.

so you leave no trace behind

like you don't even exist

"good morning!" I say, rather awkwardly than I hoped for it to

"hello, Draco" she smiled and walked past me

I watched her retreating figure like I always do now that she tries to cut every interaction short.

I hate it.

I hate it when she acts as if nothing ever happened between us. I hate that she no longer wears her perfume. I hate that she's slowly starting to slip past my finger tips.

I fucking hate it.

because she was leaving my life, slowly. so slow that I could see her disappear bit by bit. like, she was packing her things to move else where.

from her presence, to her perfume. it's as if she never even existed with how carefully everything connecting to her disappeared from my life.

take the words for what they are

a dwindling, mercurial high

"you look gorgeous" I whispered, hoping that it was loud enough for y/n to hear, hoping that she knew that it was directed at her, not Astoria.

I felt guilty for dancing with my soon-to-be wife and wishing it was y/n I'm holding.

soon enough, when Harry and Y/n stopped dancing, I excused myself.

"I'll go out for a moment" not waiting for Astoria's reply, I started walking away. I walked behind Y/n, grazing my hand against her waist in the process, hoping that she gets the message.

and that's how we ended up in the restricted section of the library, where we spent the next hour hugging and exchanging kisses and i love you's while looking through the different books in the shelves.

i love you, looking back, I started to wonder whether or not she took my words seriously.

"impossible! he can't...actually mean it!"

but according to the conversation I overheard, she took it as a dwindling, mercurial high.

a drug that only worked

"we're okay, we'll figure this out together, but let's not think of that for now" my kisses were denied when she pushed my head away and sat up.

"we all know we can't do anything about it" she argued and pushed me off, "listen, baby, we shouldn't restrict ourselves from loving who we want and I definitely won't spend my life married to someone I don't love, so believe me, I'll do something about it"

"but you two are set for marriage—"

"but I love you, not her" she stayed silent and I smiled, "so, do you trust me?"

"yeah, of course, I do"

the first few hundred times

"do you not trust me?!"

"NO! I FUCKING DON'T!"

and that's the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and stolen stares

illicit? our relationship is nowhere near illicit.

it's not wrong to love someone, what's wrong is to pretend to love someone.

if it were Astoria I'm in a relationship with, that's illicit. but y/n? why would our relationship be illicit? because I'm bound to marry someone I don't want to marry?

"you okay, mate?" only then did I realize that I have been gripping my knife so tightly as I watched as she laughed with Saint Potter.

"we know you've been...feeling bad since she ended things with you but—"

"I just don't understand! why now? why—"

"why not now, Draco? did you think she'd want to wait 'til your wedding before breaking it off?"

"there will be no wedding!"

"oh I wouldn't be so sure if I were you" Daphne says, "my mum wrote to me this morning and mentioned that they might start planning yours and Astoria's wedding, if I were you, I'd start getting into action"

I spent the rest of supper thinking and secretly staring at y/n, who seemed to be doing the same.

they show their truth one single time

"i love you"

but they lie, and they lie, and they lie

"do you love me, still?" I say, not too bothered by the students who I knew were eavesdropping in our conversation

"as a friend, yeah"

we both know she's lying. and I know she's aware of the fact that I know she's lying.

a million little times

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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Let's Talk About That Chapter 3

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of grief, Dom!Reader, sub!Wanda, spanking, use of pet names, Wanda calls R Doctor in bed, possessive behavior from R

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: This chapter somehow has everything hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, and smut all in one so please enjoy

May 4th 2016

Cap, Nat, Sam, and Wanda had just gotten back from a mission and you had already been hearing about it on the news.

"Wanda. My office. Now." You call as she exits the quinjet, following silently behind you. You let her move past you after you were in you office, closing the door behind us and as soon as the lock clicked she was on you, arms around you waist crying into you back.

"I tried so hard...all those people...how could I...?" She manages in between her sobs as you turn around, you manage to get her arms to move to you neck, moving you own to her thighs as you pick her up with ease. She wraps her legs around your waist now as you attempt to sooth her, rubbing her back and bouncing her slightly much like you would a small child.

"You did the best you could. It was an accident. We can't blame ourselves because of an accident." You remind her. "I don't want you drowning over this Wands. You held out for as long as you could. We can't save everyone." More words that felt useless as your shirt and neck became soaked by her tears, and her saliva. you’re sure there is also snot, but you’re trying not to think about that part.

You walk around the office with her in you arms, bouncing and soothing for well over an hour before the cries quiet down into soft sobs, and then into little hiccups, and eventually she stops and her breathing evens out, she tired herself out and fallen asleep on you. You can’t help, but let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh you sweet girl..." You rub her back and do something you normally don't do without explicit permission from you friends and especially with Wanda; you pull the bad emotion out of her. She was drowning and you made a promise that you’d never let her drown again.

In the quiet of your office, you take your hand to her back, laying it flat and then move away with a pulling motion, focusing on extracting the heavy emotions that lingered within her. It felt like grasping a viscous substance, something that clung stubbornly to her psyche. With careful precision, you managed to pull it free, holding it in you hand.

The dark, swirling mass writhed in you palm, a physical manifestation of Wanda's grief and guilt. Taking a deep breath, You hesitated for a moment, feeling the unpleasant energy emanating from it. Then, without second-guessing yourself, you brought it to you lips and swallowed.

The taste was repulsive, a bitter and nauseating sensation that lingered in the back of you throat. But as you consumed the emotional burden, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction and relief. Wanda, now free from the weight that had plagued her as she continued to sleep peacefully.

"You're safe now," You whispered, your gaze fixed on Wanda's serene face. The act you had just performed was not without consequences, and it wasn't a method you used lightly. However, in this instance, you believed it was the right thing to do to help her heal.

Wanda wakes up a short time later in a startle, calling out for you, you were at your desk doing paperwork, after being sent an e-mail about writing a report up on Wanda's mental health and your evaluation on her. "I'm right here. Come here sweet girl." You roll you chair back, patting you lap as she comes over, blanket still wrapped around her. You had taken her shoes and jacket off from earlier and had since changed you shirt.

She sits in you lap, facing you, once again burying her face into the crook of you neck as You pull us back towards you desk as You type away on you computer. "What are you working on?" She mumbles against you.

"I've been asked about my evaluations on the rest of the Avengers by the Secretary of State. I tend to take you notes the old fashion way so I have to transcribe my notes from paper to digital.” She nuzzles further into your neck, kissing at the crook of it, making you smirk. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"If I am Doctor?" She teases, nipping and then sucking lightly at the spot. Your hands find her hips as you grip tight enough to leave marks of you own as a light moan pushes past her lips.

"Then you're going to be in trouble because I need to finish these reports."

"What are you going to do? Spank me?"

"You're being such a little brat right now. I'm supposed to be the younger one here and yet," You move the two of you, the blanket falling to the ground as you bend her over you desk. "You're the one acting like a spoiled brat thinking you're going to get your way." You put one hand between her shoulder blades to hold her there. You understood why she was doing this, why she needed it. Without your help to put her in a better headspace she’d never stop worrying over what happened. "I want you to count and thank me for each one, understood?" You say, your voice dropping into a commanding one.

"Yes Doctor." You start giving her a hard spank. "One. Thank you Doctor!" She cries out. Your spanks were harsh, but Wanda loved them. You had started off rather light at first letting her tell you to go harder as she pleased until you found that good slap. She squirmed under your hand, trying to look at you as you continue until you get to 10.

Once you let go of her, she falls against your desk. You move away to grab some pillows and the blanket from earlier, making a little nest under you desk. She loved the small space under your desk and at this point it had become a sort of routine when you had too much work and she wanted to be close. You loved being able to look down and see her happily there at your feet. You knew Freud would have a field day with you if he were still alive. You hand her one of the tablets you keep around.

"Here you go. I have all of your favorite downloaded on there. I need to get these reports done and then I promise you can have all of my attention baby girl."

The atmosphere in the room shifted from a playful tease to a more intimate and controlled one. As you continued typing away at your reports, you could feel Wanda's lingering presence beneath you desk, the faint sounds of her favorite show playing on the tablet.

She settled into the little nest the two of you had created under the desk, surrounded by pillows and the soft glow of the tablet. You could sense the mixture of emotions in the air – a blend of submission, trust, and a subtle undercurrent of desire.

The discipline was a way to redirect her focus, to ground her after the emotional turmoil she had experienced earlier. It was a mutual understanding, a dynamic that allowed her to feel cared for and guided. You actions were not meant to harm, but to establish boundaries and bring comfort.

"Good girl," You whispered, you voice gentle as You planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "You enjoy your show, and I'll get these reports finished up."

As you focused on you work, You couldn't help but steal glances at Wanda from time to time. The sight of her curled up under the desk, absorbed in the familiar comfort of her favorite TV show, brought a sense of contentment. It was a unique moment of intimacy, one that spoke to the depth of our connection beyond the professional roles we played.

Eventually, as the reports neared completion, you could feel Wanda's eyes on you. She seemed to understand the importance of the task at hand, patiently waiting for your attention. And as you saved the final document, you closed the laptop, slid out from behind the desk, and joined her in the makeshift nest.

"Done," You announced, giving her a warm smile. "Now, how about we enjoy the rest of the evening together?" The tablet was set aside, and You wrapped you arms around her, embracing the connection we shared. In the quiet comfort of you office, surrounded by the soft glow of the tablet and the warmth of your bond, you allowed yourselves to simply be – partners.

=====================================================

Wanda and you had gotten back from the grocery store after deciding the two of you were going to make chicken paprikash meatballs, a dish she used to eat back home. You loved her having an outlet like this to be expressive. You helped with a few things, but you told her this was something you wanted her to do. You watched her with a smile and mostly was used to taste the sauce the meatballs would be going into and practically moaning at how good it was. "You're such a good cook baby girl. You'd make the perfect housewife." You say offhandedly.

"If I tell you all I’ve ever wanted was to be a stay at home house wife mom, would you be surprised?" She mentions.

"With what I know about you? Not one bit baby girl. I'd love that. Maybe one day..."

"Hello ladies." You hear Vision and you know you shouldn't, but you roll your eyes. You can't stand the synthizoid. For one you can't read him because he isn't human. Doesn't have a brain. Doesn't have emotions or an aura or anything. Secondly, he always tries to get Wanda's attention. You swear he's trying to flirt with her, but without being able to read him You can't tell.

"Hi Vis!" She smiles happily. "Harley and I were making dinner as part of my therapy." Wanda tells him which isn't entirely a lie. We haven't told anyone about our relationship. Figured it would be better if we didn't, not yet at least.

"Well that sounds like a wonderful idea. I know how much you love cooking." Vision mentions and you eyes slowly move and narrow on Wanda.

"Oh do you now?" You ask with a bit of venom. You’ve always been a jealous person. When something is yours it is YOURS.

"Oh uh well yes. Wanda and I had a conversation a few nights ago about it. she had also made dinner that night and I had come to her room to thank her for it." your jaw sets and locks as a predatory growl threatens to rip through you throat.

"You know I just remembered I have some paper work to do. I'll see you two later." You head off towards you room and not your office which you hear Vision question, but don’t hear if Wanda responds or not.

Once you get to you room You have F.R.I.D.A.Y sound proof you room and bring down the armor on you windows so they don't break and once she does you use you voice to scream out like a banshee,

"FUCK OFF VISION SHE'S MINE!" You yell out. “You don’t even eat food! Why the fuck are you thanking her for making dinner!?” Getting your anger out of you the only way you can since you can't just pull it out of yourself like you can for others.

As the echoes of you outburst faded into the stillness of you room, You took a deep, shuddering breath, the remnants of you anger simmering beneath the surface. F.R.I.D.A.Y had dutifully complied with you request, sealing off you room from the outside world, providing a cocoon of privacy where You could let your emotions run wild without fear of judgment or consequence.

But even as the adrenaline coursed through you veins, You knew that you outburst was irrational, driven by jealousy and insecurity. Wanda had never given you any reason to doubt her loyalty or affection, yet the mere presence of Vision seemed to ignite a primal instinct within you, a need to assert you claim over what You perceived as yours.

You sank down onto the edge of you bed, burying your face in your hands as you grappled with the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. It wasn't fair to Wanda, to subject her to the brunt of you insecurities, to lash out in a fit of possessiveness. She deserved better than that, deserved someone who could trust her implicitly, without question.

But try as you might, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the back of you mind, the fear of losing her to someone—or something—else. It was a vulnerability you had never been comfortable acknowledging, a weakness you had always tried to bury beneath a façade of confidence and strength.

As you sat there in the silence of you room, you knew that you needed to confront these feelings head-on, to find a way to move past the jealousy and insecurity that threatened to consume you. And perhaps, with time and patience, you could learn to trust in the strength of your bond, to believe in the love that bound us together, unbreakable and unwavering.

But for now, all You could do was take solace in the sanctuary of your room, letting the weight of you emotions wash over you until the storm within subsided, leaving behind a sense of clarity and resolve. And as you prepared to face the outside world once more, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always fight for what was yours, for the love that had become the anchor of your soul.

=======================================================

Later that night, well after dinner. You once again had you room sound proofed by F.R.I.D.A.Y for a completely different reason.

Wanda was in the middle of you bed, on all fours. You left hand tangled in her hair, pulling to keep her upright and back arched. You right hand buried deep inside her as she moaned out in pleasure with you fingers pleasuring the deepest parts of her; Her most intimate spots that only you had ever gotten to touch.

"Who do you belong to?" You ask through you teeth.

"You Doctor!" She moaned out.

"No one else?"

"No Doctor! Just you! Only you! Only want you!" She cries out. "Please...can I cum, please? Been a good girl."

"Go ahead cum for me baby girl." Waves of pleasure hit her. The only waves that you’ll allow her to drown in. You let go of her hair as she goes limp against the bed, panting with exhaustion. "My good girl. I'm going to clean you up and get you a water." You kiss her temple, getting a warm, damp cloth, and a bottle from you mini fridge.

You help move her to lay properly on the bed before cleaning her off. Then You prop her up against the pillows. "Here you go sweetie. I'm going to grab you some undies and one of your baggy shirts." You tell her as she sips the water.

You get both of us changed and we cuddle. You give her a bunch of kisses.

"Y/N?" She asks looking up at you.

"Yes sweet girl?"

"Why did you get so upset earlier?"

"I don't like Vision..." You didn’t want to look at her. It was something you were hoping she wouldn’t ask you, but of course she did she’s Wanda and she’s attentive.

"Why?" You can hear the confusion in her voice because to everyone else Vision has done nothing to deserve you feeling this way towards him.

"I can't read him; at all. He doesn't have feelings or emotions, not real ones. It's completely different than a human. He doesn't have an aura to read either." You tell her, running you fingers through her hair.

"I like Vision. He's nice to me. The others are too, but I can still tell they're scared of me. Vision isn't he never has been just like you." Wanda tells you.

"That's what scares me." You admit, your mouth feels a lot dryer and your palms sweaty. You try rubbing them on your thighs, but it doesn’t really help.

"Why does that scare you?" She sits up.

"What if...what if you think he's better than me? What if..." You can't even say it. There's a knot in you throat, you chest, you stomach. You don't realize it, but you’ve started crying. You only notice when Wanda is wiping your tears.

"I love you Y/N." You stare in disbelief. The two of you hadn't said that to each other yet. You feel the words in you throat, you want to say them back because you do feel that way, but the jealous gremlin in you brain decides to say this instead,

"Do you?"

"What?" She asks in disbelief.

"You flirt with him Wanda! I know you do!" You pull away from her touch. "He flirts with you and you flirt right back! Also he's been in your room and you didn't even tell me!? Why the hell wouldn't you tell me!?" You yell and spit with venom, your words intending to hurt, but you never wanted to hurt her. Your jealousy felt like an uncontrollable storm. Something you had tried to contain for too long and now it was all coming to a head.

"You don't mean that Y/N." She moves closer. "I can hear your thoughts screaming out at me. I understand you're jealous, but I do truly love you. Nothing is going on between Vision and I." Her hands are on your cheeks again. You’re crying against her just as she's done a handful of times to you.

"I-I love you t-too." You manage between you sobs.

"I know you do Malyshka." She says softly, fingers running through your hair and the other hand rubbing soothing circles against your back.

As Wanda's comforting words washed over you, You felt a mixture of relief and shame flood through you veins. Shame for allowing your jealousy to spiral out of control, for lashing out at the person you loved most in the world. And yet, in that moment, You also felt a sense of vulnerability, a raw honesty that laid bare the depths of your emotions.

Her hands on you were a grounding presence, a reminder of the love and understanding that existed between us. Despite you insecurities, despite the storm of emotions raging within you, Wanda remained steadfast by you side, offering you solace and support when You needed it most.

"I'm sorry," You whispered, you voice hoarse with emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...I let my jealousy get the best of me."

Wanda's gaze softened, her thumb brushing away the tears that streaked you cheeks. "I know, Malyshka," she murmured, her tone gentle and reassuring. "But you have to trust me. There's nothing between Vision and I. You're the one I love, the one I want to be with."

Her words were like a balm to you wounded soul, soothing the ache of doubt and fear that had plagued you for so long. In that moment, you realized that your jealousy had stemmed not from any real threat, but from you own insecurities and doubts.

"I do trust you," You said, you voice trembling with sincerity. "I trust you more than anyone else in this world."

And as you wrapped your arms around Wanda, pulling her close to you, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, the two of you would face them together, united in your love and devotion. For in each other's arms, you two had found a sanctuary, a haven of warmth and acceptance where your hearts could truly be free.

#ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff angst

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flowerandblood · 10 months

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The Impossible Choice (4)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, angst, smut, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

The day before their nuptials in the Great Sept she could not sleep. She spent her last days in the care of the queen, preparing for the wedding, learning how she should behave in every situation, when she could speak, and with whom it was appropriate to dance and converse during the wedding feast.

She was surprised when the queen summoned her to her chamber for a face-to-face conversation, alone, even without her servants. She felt that she was about to learn something important and sat tensely in her chair, looking at her expectantly. The queen looked at her warmly, once again giving her that motherly look that she missed so much.

“I wanted to speak with you about your wedding night. Do you know what begetting an heir involves?” She spoke calmly, gently, as if afraid the topic of conversation might scare her.

She pursed her lips in shame, lowering her gaze, unable to look at her.

If you obey me, I will make sure that we both enjoy ourselves.

She didn't know what he meant, but he shocked her with this confession. She wondered if she should believe him, or if he was just manipulating her not to stand up to him.

She nodded slowly, and the queen sighed, rubbing her knees with her hands, as if the topic was uncomfortable and unpleasant for her as well.

"It will be best if you just lie on your back on the bed. This is the most comfortable position. Let him do what he needs to do, the sooner he's done, the better for you. It can be hard, but try not to cry, think about something else. After all, you should lie down for a while. This will help you beget his heir sooner." She said calmly, looking at her tenderly, sadly, comfortingly.

She swallowed hard at her words, horrified by what she heard, but at the same time she felt immense gratitude towards her for telling her all about it. She nodded her head again, indicating that she understood, not being able to utter a single word.

On the day of their nuptials she asked her servant for a cup of wine in the morning to calm herself down. She could feel her hands shaking, but the alcohol had dulled her and relaxed her, making her look less pale.

She tried to think only about seeing her brother and father again.

Royce did not disappoint her. He stepped into her chamber without warning, throwing himself at her while she was halfway through dressing her wedding gown. She laughed with joy when she saw him, her heart squeezed so hard with happiness at the sight of him that she wanted to cry.

Her brother took her warm cheeks in his hands, looking at her tenderly.

"You look beautiful, sweet sister."

He sat in an old wooden chair, sipping wine and chatting with her, as her servants pinned the puffy sleeves with cut-outs over the red chemise underneath her gown.

She tried not to think with regret that her sisters had not come to help her prepare for the day, even though it was a tradition.

She also knew that her father must have been speaking with the king himself and he was too occupied to see her as well.

Her maids had part of her hair braided in a circle around her head, and part of it combed into an exquisite, intricate braid that fell down her back. They slid pins of gold-plated pearls into her hair and placed jewelry around her neck.

She looked dignified, rich, beautiful.

Due to the fact that she was never considered as the future wife of the prince, she did not pay attention to her attires, considering that she would not look as good in a gowns as her sisters.

Now, looking at her own reflection in the mirror she thought proudly that she had not lacked anything.

Before the nuptials she received a blessing from her father.

For the first time in her life she saw him holding back tears of despair. She knew that he was suffering from the thought of what was going to happen to her that night.

She had no words of comfort for him or for herself.

She stroked his rough, beard-covered cheek and walked towards her retinue at the end of which was the carriage that would take her to the Great Sept with her father.

People cheered her as they drove through the sunny, bright streets of King's Landing; the people of the capital remembered the Baratheon's contribution to their safety in all the wars of recent years.

As she stepped out of the carriage in front of the sept she saw with joy that the children were throwing wildflowers at her. She wanted to collect them but her father urged her, saying that there was no time for that.

She placed her hand on his outstretched arm and walked with him to the center of the sept, amid the soaring sound of trumpets and the whispers of the gathered who might see her for the first time.

As she walked, she kept her eyes on the prince who was looking at her intensely.

He was standing in a beautiful black and red tunic, the colors of his house, straight and proud, his jaw clenched, his expression indifferent and expressionless, his gaze almost aggressive.

She thought that she didn't care anymore.

She felt like everything around her was happening outside of her. His cloak on her shoulders, their hands intertwined in front of the septon, their mouths uttering oaths.

They were husband and wife.

She heard the loud applause and cheers, the joy of the crowd.

She felt as if she had gone deaf.

She stared into his dark, dangerous, bright eye, piercing right through her and wondered what was going on in his head right now.

When they arrived at the wedding feast and sat down side by side, not a single word was exchanged between them. She smiled warmly at all the guests, recognizing that at least one of them had to look pleased.

She couldn't swallow anything.

She knew that he wouldn't ask her to dance, but she was still disappointed when it turned out that she really couldn't count on his involvement in this aspect.

Royce, apparently annoyed by this detail, asked her to dance himself. She glanced at her now husband, wordlessly pleading for his permission and saw him nod slowly, turning his face away again.

She knew that he watched her carefully as she danced with her brother and then with the other lords. She knew that he was possessive, that he now wanted to think of her as his own, and she couldn't upset him.

Not before what was about to happen.

As he stood suddenly, announcing that they were going to rest, she felt her heart pounding like crazy in her chest, her whole body froze and stiffened.

She looked up at him and saw that he was glancing at her expectantly, so she rose slowly and bowed to her father and the king, who followed them with uncertain stares.

She followed him silently to his chamber, where Lyanna was already waiting for her to help her pull off her elaborate gown and undid her hair. She stripped her down to a lovely, beautiful embroidered, snow-white nightgown and approached her, smearing her neck and wrists with a pleasant, floral-scented oil.

Looking at herself in the mirror she thought that she was completely vulnerable, helpless.

That's what he wanted.

She shuddered and glanced quickly over her shoulder as she saw that he stood up from his chair, already dressed only in his linen shirt and breeches, a clear impatience in his gaze that it had taken so long.

"Leave." He said dryly.

Lyanna wanted to protest that she wasn't done yet, but the prince gave her only one murderous look, which made her shiver and silently leave, avoiding him, closing the door behind her.

They were left alone.

She could feel the tension between them, the stuffy, heavy air in the chamber; all she could hear in her ears was her rapid breathing and the beating of her own heart.

She thought that she would do anything he asked her to do as long as he didn't hurt her.

After a moment's thought, he approached her with slow, unhurried step. She stared at him helplessly, her mouth slightly parted in a troubled breath that she couldn't control.

He grabbed her jaw with his hand, but more gently than before and stared at her for a moment.

She shivered as his fingers slid from her face to her neck and he began to massage her nape with slow, calm movements that gave her goosebumps all over her body. She wondered what was happening to her, because she wasn't entirely sure if the only feeling she felt was fear.

He leaned over her suddenly, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide in horror and anticipation.

“Kiss me.” He whispered and pressed his lips to hers instantly, closing his hand around her neck, holding her in an iron grip.

She stifled a moan, only a soft, startled sound coming out of her mouth, feeling how greedily he bit into her skin, how soft, fleshy and wet his hungry lips were.

She felt his fingers tighten on the nape of her neck at her lack of response, so she timidly brushed his upper lip with her throbbing, sticky mouth, making a low, satisfied sound coming out from his throat.

"More." He commanded softly, and she felt a pleasant squeeze between her thighs at the sound of his hoarse voice, his caresses lazy and pleasant.

She tried to imitate his movements, placing her hand on his chest for balance, running her lips over his, pressing them lightly, wanting to see how it felt. Something inside her was throbbing again and again at the wet, sticky click of their saliva that she heard every time their lips parted, only to meet in another kiss.

He pulled away from her, his mouth puffy, swollen from their caresses that seemed to fill him with desire. His eye wasn't so stern anymore, she thought that he was pleased. So far she didn't feel any discomfort either, quite the opposite − he smelled of soap and bath, sweat and thirst that made her throat dry.

"Will you obey me?" He asked low, his voice quivering slightly with arousal.

For some reason she felt wetness between her thighs at his question, but thought it couldn't be moon bleeding yet, because it was too early.

She nodded and squealed softly as he suddenly lifted her by the hips, walking with her toward his bed. He placed her on her back, and she thought that was it.

She settled herself comfortably on the bedding, looking at him expectantly, feeling her whole body tremble. He did not lie on top of her as her sister had said, however, but sat next to her on the bed, leaning over her.

She shuddered and swallowed hard as she saw his hands begin to untie her nightgown. He unfolded the fabric in two, exposing her breasts to him, making her voice get stuck in her throat.

She didn't know what was happening.

She turned her head involuntarily, breathing loudly, ashamed that he was looking at her naked body in such a licentious way, so close, not even trying to cover herself, knowing that there was no point in resisting, desperation and anxiety on her face.

"Look at me." He commanded. She flinched all over and obeyed him with difficulty, looking at him pleadingly, gasping for breath, feeling her whole body aflame and hot.

She inhaled sharply as she felt his large hand on her breast, running his fingers over it, kneading it lightly, tentatively. She saw his lips part as he felt her soft, firm skin under his hand, his gaze was serious, but also full of arousal and darkness that made her feel throbbing between her thighs.

She nearly jumped and stifled a moan, pressing her lips together as she felt his thumb brush over her nipple, surprised by the brief, sudden thrill of pleasure she felt. He repeated this movement encouraged by her reaction, and she trembled all over, unable to take her eyes off his face. She saw him frown, his chest heaving uneasily.

"I want to hear you. Your every moan belongs to me." He hissed, pressing his thumb against her nipple harder, teasing and rubbing her on purpose.

When a soft, sweet moan of surprise escaped her lips at last, she saw the glint in his eye, the corner of his mouth twitched dangerously, his breathing quickened.

"− good girl −" He whispered with some kind of appreciation, she pursed her lips at his praise, feeling the squeeze between her thighs, a hot, tickling tension building up inside her for some reason.

Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned over her, his mouth clung greedily to her breast, sucking on her nipple like a small child. Another, this time more intense shiver of pleasure vibrate through her body, making her whimper softly, clenching her hands on either side of her head into fists.

She was afraid to touch him.

She didn't know if she should.

The Queen did not reveal such details to her, additionally neither she nor her sister mentioned anything about what her husband was doing to her now.

She pursed her lips and sucked in a loud breath as she felt his hand slid down to the bare skin of her thigh, pulling her chemise up, her legs trembled and closed involuntarily as she felt him want to put his fingers between them.

"Never close your thighs in front of me." He said coldly, stopping the caress, looking at her expectantly.

She swallowed hard and meekly spread her legs slightly, letting him do what he wanted. He hummed contentedly as he went back to sucking on her puffy, hard nipple, felt them both gasp and freeze for a moment as his fingers touched her hot womanhood.

No one had ever touched her in this place, so intimate and private.

Her whole body shuddered as his fingers ran over her moist folds, rubbing a bud hidden between them, sending a spasm of pleasure through her. She heard him stifle a guttural moan as he found her sticky wetness, leaking from her slit down onto the sheets, he looked at her with a gaze from which she felt embarrassment.

"− gods − already so fucking wet −" He hummed, obviously as surprised as she was.

She thought, seeing his reaction, that apparently this was good information.

She opened her mouth wide in silent amazement as his movement changed, his fingers began to press firmly around her pearl, teasing this spot with circular, steady strokes, from which she felt a twitching deep inside her. He felt it and licked her nipple with a low purr, making her threw her head back with a warm, innocent moan.

She didn't expect that.

What she was feeling now had nothing to do with pain.

She was terrified that he was touching the most intimate parts of her body, but he was doing it in such a way that she felt a pleasant, hot tickle in her lower abdomen, which made her feel an increasing need for relief, although she did not know how she could experience it.

She sobbed loudly, flinching suddenly as she felt his middle finger press against her opening, pushing against her tight, hot, fleshy walls. It was both uncomfortable and pleasant, she had never experienced this kind of sensation before and was terrified, so she tried to loosen up and breathe loudly through her mouth.

"− easy − don't resist me − take what I give you −" He murmured, returning to his earlier caresses, pressing his lips to her breasts as if he couldn't tear himself away, she heard him make low, guttural growls every time his tongue licked again her hard nipple.

She whimpered softly as his finger slowly slid deeper into her hot core, stretching her so much that she spread her thighs wider to make it easier for herself and for him, having no clue what he was actually doing.

She moaned loudly when he finally slid his finger all the way in and sighed in relief when he slid it out gently. Her voice stuck in her throat as he repeated the motion, pushing his finger into her at an increasingly rapid pace, rubbing her just above her entrance, teasing some spot inside her through which she felt shivers of pleasure.

Suddenly his pace changed from gentle and steady to quick and sure, his finger slipping in and out of her with the wet clicks of her moisture, squeezing her so deliciously that she wanted to beg him to stop, feeling that something was about to happen to her body, that her tension was reaching a peak.

"− please −" She mewled, her hand clenching helplessly on his arm that he was leaning on, rocking her hips involuntarily to the thrusts of his finger.

"− shhh −" He hummed contentedly, adding his second finger to her interior, causing her body to writhe under him in spasms.

She was no longer able to look at him or focus on anything, her body leaning back, her eyes closed with pleasure, sweat running down her soft skin with exertion.

She drew in a quick breath when he suddenly stopped, sliding his fingers out of her, looking at her with wide eye, his lips parted in unutterable delight.

"− fuck − I need to feel you −" He panted, reaching into the material of his breeches, untying them quickly.

She swallowed hard as he spreaded her legs in front of him, holding her hips, drawing her closer in one, firm motion. His hands went to his breeches again, sliding them down just enough to free his throbbing, swollen erection.

She turned her head away, ashamed of the sight, terrified that this was what she was about to feel inside her.

She didn't know how she was going to take it if his fingers was already causing her discomfort in the begging.

She felt his hand grab her cheeks, turning her face towards him.

"Look at me." He hissed, and she shivered at the sight of his dark eye.

No man had ever looked at her that way before.

He licked his lips with a grunt of satisfaction as her large, terrified eyes remained fixed on his face. He leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her head, breathing loudly, his long, white hair tickling her cheeks.

They both knew what was about to happen.

"Spread your thighs wide." He whispered, his voice a little softer, but still commanding. She opened her mouth, trying to catch her breath, and obediently did as he said, trying not to think about how scared she was.

She felt his hands lift the fabric of her nightgown above her thighs, exposing everything underneath, her body in some subconscious reflex wanted to move away when she felt the fat, pink head of his cock begin to push against her hot, leaking opening. She trembled as the fingers of one of his hands grabbed her hip warningly, digging into her soft skin.

"Don't run away from me. Be good and I'll take it slow." He gasped as she felt the tip of his manhood press against her entrance again.

She felt his fingers slid lower, parting the skin of her folds to the sides, making her feel uncomfortable.

She pursed her lips as she felt it, trying not to make a sound.

She squirmed silently, closing her eyes as she felt him force his way inside her, her fingers involuntarily clenched into fists, she had the feeling that, indeed, according to her sister's words, her husband was about to tear her apart from the inside.

Was she supposed to fit it all in?

She heard his soft sigh when he slid deeper into her, as if he was in pain himself.

"− fuck − breath − just a little more − I promise −" He panted, and she swallowed hard, trying to calm her breathing, to relax her body.

She was relieved that he stopped, waiting for her walls not to press against him so terribly.

They both breathed a loud sigh when, after a moment, one sure thrust of his hips sank him deep into her, causing her a burning, sharp pain that, however, passed after a moment.

It was a strange, disturbing and intimate feeling at the same time.

She considered it an act of his grace that he waited a moment before sliding out of her slowly only to thrust into her again a moment later, she had the feeling that her muscles had adjusted to his size.

He watched her intently, looking at her with wide-open eye, apparently assessing whether he could already speed up his pace, which he did as soon as he heard her first startled moans.

The tip of his manhood rubbed and squeezed again and again the spot inside her where he had previously dug his fingers in.

Gods, she thought.

It feels good.

Involuntarily, she tightened her hand on his arm and looked at him in horror, not even noticing when they both began pant, first softly, then louder and louder, her hands clenched on his shirt, as she couldn't hold back the tension that was building again in her loins, rising like boiling water.

With each of his sharp, deep thrust, his thighs slammed against her buttocks with a wet slaps of her moisture, so shamelessly, dirty, that she writhed all over him.

"− yes − that's it − ah − so fucking tight −" He exaled, and she, surprised by his words, just moaned sweetly, making him completely lose his temper.

He rose suddenly, taking her hips in his hands, kneeling in front of her, rooting into her quickly and brutally, rubbing her where she needed it each time, making her body arch back in pleasure, shocked by the intensity of the sensation.

"− come on − give me what I want − fuck, I want to hear it −" He panted, slamming into her with all the strength he had in his hips, she felt like he would burst into her stomach.

She didn't know what he meant, but she no longer felt pain or discomfort.

She felt numb to a different kind of feeling, her vision blurred, her mind completely foggy.

All she could hear was how they both panted and moaned alternately, the bed below them creaking with each of his thrusts, each slap of his thighs.

Suddenly she felt something approaching, her whole body tensed, as if trying to defend herself against it.

And then it happened.

She leaned back with her mouth parted wide and sobbed loudly, helplessly, pressing her cheek to the pillow, as a wave of unexpected pleasure surged brutally through her body, then a second, a third, and a fourth.

She heard him groan low, panting in delight at what he had seen in front of him, he made a loud, almost animal sound of relief, and then a warmth spilled inside her. He rocked his hips in her for a while longer, breathing heavily, and then he fell on top of her without strength, crushing her with his weight.

She stared at the door to his chamber, panting loudly, her body trembling in convulsions from what she had just experienced.

She was in shock.

She didn't know that her body was capable of something like this.

He slipped his manhood out of her with her quiet hiss of discomfort, rising immediately, tying his breeches back on. She heard him grunt loudly before he spoke, his breathing still quickened and his voice slightly hoarse as he said the words.

"You may now return to your chamber."

She felt a stab of pain and rejection at his words, unsure if he was dismissing her or if he wanted her to decide for herself where she would spend the night after what had happened.

“The queen said that I should lie down for a long time afterwards. Thanks to this, as she said, I will give you an heir sooner." She whispered in a trembling voice, her body still unable to recover from what she had just experienced.

She saw him glance at her over his shoulder, looking at her intensely. In the end he just grunted and nodded, apparently giving her permission to do what she thought that was appropriate, with no intention of meddling in these intricate, feminine matters.

He walked around the bed, getting under the covers and lying on his stomach, turning his head away from her, not saying a word.

She didn't say anything to him either, but she couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face.

He could pretend to be indifferent to her and not speak to her, but the truth was that he desired her.

She thought, surprised, that he had kept his promise.

He made her enjoy it.

She wondered if he would lose interest in her after all this, or if on the contrary he would want her even more.

She decided that the most important thing was not to impose herself on him, not to make him feel like he broke her or owned her, not to fall to his knees in front of him, begging him to love her.

Most of all, she wanted him to respect her.

She closed her eyes, sighing softly in relief that it was all over.

She wasn't a maiden. The marriage was sealed.

Officially, in the eyes of gods and man, she was his wife.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines @heavenly1927 @hiatuswhore @it-is-getting-better @linkpk88

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medium-rare-bimbo · 9 months

Text

Piss kink with Eddie

♡Masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

May contain Dubcon, you're both high+ drunk,piss obviously

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ you both were high as a kite and as drunk as sailors, both of you sitting in the bath on Eddie's lap enjoying the coolness of the tub dressed In nothing but a shirt and panties where eddie wore nothing but pyjama pants, both of you giggling as the other spoke

"Eddie d-do you think dogs and cats are smarter than me?"

"No unless it could speak Spanish"

"Yeah but why can they know what I'm saying like 'sit' 'stay' 'food' and stuff but I cant understand 'meow meow' and 'woof woof'?"

"Good point.. maybe- maybe they are smarter than us what if a dog becomes a scientist one day"

♡ You giggled at him thinking about a puppy in a lab coat, your giggling turned into a fit and you were bent over almost crying at the thought. You wiggled in his lap as you felt you bladder, quickly you pushed on his chest trying to get to the toilet without falling flat on your face from laughing

"Where are you going?"

"Need t'pee- I'm gonna pee- eddieee"

♡ he wrapped his arms around you trapping you against his chest as you giggled trying to escape

"Eddiee le'me go, I'mma pee all over you"

"W-we're in the bath it's okay, we can wash ourselves and our clothes"

"But eddieee 'is dirtyyy gonna get all messy"

"But I dont want you to leave mee"

♡ you laughed at his comment peppering his face with kisses as you brushed his hair away from his face, you sat up in his lap patting his chest as you got comfortable. Soon you began to release your fluids on to his lap, you moaned as you felt your bladder empty and eddie groaned as he felt you piss soak through his pyjama pants and directly on his cock.

♡ his eyes glued to the growing wet patch on your panties, the rise of his pants caught his attention however and he rolled his head back as he felt the warmth on his now growing hard on.

♡ once you were done you let out a few pathetic dribbles, watching the droplets roll down you thighs, laying you head back on Eddie's chest you snuggled into him.

"Can I pee in you?"

"Pee IN me? Like inside of me?"

"Y-yeah- I-its okay if you so no"

♡ you shuffled you body to face him directly before reaching down to his now soaked pants and pulling out his now extremely hard cock, before pulling you panties (which were stuck to your skin) to the side and positioned yourself above him

"Wait I thought guys cant pee when they're hard"

"We should test it and see if I can piss when im hard"

♡ nodding your head your shank down on him, not bouncing or rocking your hips, simply sitting on his cock. Eddie moved around trying to get comfortable so he could piss.

♡ after some repositioning you felt the warm gush of his piss hitting your insides causing you to gasp at the sensation and warmth, you clenched around him making him groan and hold your hips to ground himself

♡ as you felt the liquid stop you stayed there enjoying the feeling of being full, you leaned forward after awhile and felt him fall out of you with a 'POP', his piss gushed out of you and back on his cock which made you bith whimper.

♡ you both looked at each other, covered in eachothers piss, and started laughing

"That was so gross"

"It was for science we- we found out guys can pee with a hard on, w-we're just like the science dog"

♡ you burst into giggles again as the picture re-entered your fuzzy head, he leaned over you and turned on the shower causing both of you to squeal and scream as the cold water came crashing down on you soon quieting down as the water heated up.

♡ when you both woke up the next morning (all clean and fresh) you joked about how gross eddie had made you

♡ however that wouldnt be the last time you both experimented with pee

♡ he had fingered you for what felt like forever 'opening you up' he said but you didnt believe him, you had never needed this much prep before and your poor little clit was getting all sore and puffy from his abuse you squirted on his fingers and that still hadnt seemed to be enough. During your 3rd orgasm he had let you take a break only so he knew your bladder would fill, he filled you with his cock before you could recover fully, as he pounded into you he pressed on your stomach

"E-Eddie wait stop- I'm gonna pee- I need to pee eddie please"

"Piss on me baby c'mon i dont mind, you've done it before"

♡ feeling your pussy constrict around him as your hot piss soaked his cock and bed was almost like heaven and never in his life had he came so fast and hard, his hips slamming into yours as you scratched his back desperately trying to receive some sympathy on your battered pussy

♡ he would take so much interest in watching you pee regularly, he enjoyed seeing the piss splutter out of you.

♡ he also enjoyed making you drink more than you could handle and pressing down on your bladder as you try ever so hard to hold it in.

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #tw: piss kink

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woniefull · 1 month

Text

we can't be friends

hi guys!! this is my very first piece of writing! constructive criticism is always welcomed. please don't mind any grammatical/spelling errors. i wrote this at 2 in the morning and just wanted to do something fun. i still have a lot of room for improvement but i hope you guys enjoy!

warning: little angsty

song: we can't be friends (wait for your love) - ariana grande

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he was the sweetest boy to you when you had first met. his puppy eyes, gorgeous smile, and brown fluffy hair were what drew you in. his flirty words towards you, and only you, had you captivated in a heartbeat.

that’s why you couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of you right now.

“oh god please don’t start.” jake groaned as you stared at him with angry eyes. or was it hurt? he couldn’t tell.

“i’m not starting anything! if anything you are! why are you still talking to your ex after the countless times she’s crossed the boundaries in our relationship? i’ve told you how i feel about her!" your voice croaked and you felt helpless.

you had always tried your best to not be that jealous girlfriend everyone hates. but how could you? jake was attractive and every girl tried to get at him. it didn’t help that he was oblivious to the advances the women around him would give. that’s why you would get angry, but never at him.

“how many times do i have to tell you that she came up to me? i was just being polite by having a conversation with her”.

jake was sitting on the couch now. his hands covering his face, unaware of the tears forming in your eyes.

it always came down to this. you voicing your problem with jake entertaining other girls and him trying to reassure you.

trying.

you both were growing tired of the constant arguing.

“jake she was pushing herself all up on you and you just stood there! can you imagine how that made me feel? watching my boyfriend have another girl's hands all over him as if she were the girlfriend?” you were hurt. it hurt. all of this hurt. you knew this wasn’t your boyfriend’s fault. he had always been a gentleman, one of the many qualities you loved about him. but his next words made you second-guess yourself.

“that’s just her character, doll. she’s always been like that from the moment i met her. this jealousy thing of yours really needs to stop, it’s not cute anymore”. jake almost immediately regretted his words as he saw your reaction. he knew he was wrong.

“you think i do this to be cute? am i joke to you?” you cried out.

you don’t remember when everything went wrong. you don’t remember the last time you felt secure in your relationship. maybe you weren’t ready for all of this.

“no, love i’m sorry i didn’t mean that” jake said as he quickly got up and made his way towards you.

“i’m so sorry, i just had a difficult day that’s all”. he slipped his arm around your waist and used the other to wipe your tears away.

“jake”

he looked at your eyes.

“whatever you’re about to say please don’t” jake pleaded.

“jake i just think we aren’t ready for this. for us”. you started to sob again.

“i think we need to let each other go. we need to grow and learn to understand ourselves before we can understand each other".

“please” jake said as he dipped his head into your neck.

you let him stay there for a while before you detached yourself from him. it was hard to because jake wouldn’t let go. he knew it would be a while before he held you again.

“i’m sorry jake, i really am” you said with a small smile, trying your best not to completely break down again.

“no i’m sorry, this is all my fault.”

“we both had fault in this jake, don’t blame yourself.”

you both stood there for a moment, observing each other. it was as if you guys were taking in your last moments together.

“i’m leaving now jake”. you wasted no time in collecting your things in order to head to the front door.

“thank you for everything, really. i know things didn’t end how we wanted them to but some of my best memories were with you. thank you jake”.

jake just stood there, still in disbelief at how quickly things had unraveled.

right as you were about to walk out he calls to you.

“can we still be friends?” a little hope is visible in his eyes. he hopes that you say yes so that he’s able to see you again.

“we can’t be friends”. and just like that you were gone. the only evidence of you ever being there was jake’s broken heart.

i’ll wait for your love jake thinks as he slowly walks over to the sofa and slumps down.

#fanfic #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #jakefic #sim jaeyun #enha #enha fluff #enha angst #enhypen angst #enhypen jake #heeseung #jay #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #ni ki

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femdomlieeh · 10 months

Text

Pink Blush (m)

First time Sub!Haechan ✧ Secretly Dom!Reader

WC—1.8 k

THEMES—new relationship ✧ nsfw fluff (?) ✧ borderline smut

WARNING—punishment ✧ teasing (m!g) ✧ masturbation (m) ✧ use of handcuffs & strap on ✧ praise ✧ light degradation ✧ pet names "mommy", "channie", "bad boy"✧ mentions of gender stereotypes (ew), safe words & (future) pegging

NOW PLAYING—Tattoo ✧ Loreen

[A/N.] old xiumin (exo) version

When this post gets 100 votes I’ll publish a stray kids group reaction chapter👍

M.LISTS—nct 127 ✧ dream ✧ latest updates ✧ wp version

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

"Come on~! Show me~!" Haechan whined in your ear for the umpteenth time today.

Like all the previous times, you answered no.

Yesterday your boyfriend had found out that you had a mommy kink and liked being dominant in the bed (You had left a wattpad tab open on our shared laptop because you were apparently too tired to click on the cross), and, although that should've been something positive, you didn't want him to know.

On a daily basis, he already got critique for being younger (looking younger) than his partner, and being too 'feminine' and 'cutesy' – so, to want him to submit to you and make him match other people's perception of him was selfish and thus something you refused to do.

The theory of genders having specific power roles was something you'd always been opposed to, as you do not believe a gender determines a level of power. Truthfully, you couldn't care less if your boyfriend wanted to break gender stereotypes or not — damn, he could wear 'girly' clothes and/or put make up on if he wanted to — but you did care about what he thought of himself.

He didn't like it when people commented on how much younger he looked than he was. He didn't like it when people described him as feminine instead of masculine. He didn't like it when people [excluding you and some of his friends] called him cute. He didn't think that having any of those characteristics was wrong; he just didn't want people to call him those things.

"Please?" He attempted to lure you in with his gleaming puppy eyes – which usually worked – but that method didn't work this time around, because the great amount of vexation he had brought to you today had made you fully resistant to his cuteness.

"No, I don't want to hurt you," you answered with a blank face, trying your best to find a seemingly interesting movie on Netflix, that you hadn't already seen, so your boyfriend could give up his dumb quest. It was a little confusing why he wanted to try these types of thing with you, knowing how he felt about being belittled by others.

"I thought you said that we should always be honest with each other and always be ourselves," he argued, making a valid point since you had said those words from the start of your relationship.

"But I also said I never wanted us to hurt each other," you retorted in defense, feeling more and more irritated by the second.

Leaning and sinking down a little bit on the sofa, Haechan wanted to be more comfortable as he knew this conversation would be long. Chewing on the strings of his pink hoodie, he looked at and studied you; frown, annoyed sighs, hard grip on the remote, darker lips from biting on them – everything pointed at you being mad, and thus rather sensitive.

Then a bulb lit above his head.

"But what if I like it when you hurt me?"

You turned your head to his side. There it was. Exactly what he wanted to see. An expression on your face that told him that if he continued this route, he would get fucked. Whether it was literally or metaphorically, he wanted to find out.

"I'm leaving," you announced and stood up as quickly as the short sentence ended. You had to leave, because Haechan was pushing your buttons and you knew that if you stayed for longer you could end up doing what you had been trying to avoid since he had found out about the femdom part of you.

His face changed from calm puppy to clingy puppy with separation anxiety, scared of its owner leaving. This was not the reaction he had tried to get from you. He stood up and followed your fast steps to the bedroom. As soon as he saw you throw one of your biggest bags onto the floor, followed up by some clothing pieces, he felt his blood freeze. Were you leaving as in leaving the relationship?

"Why are you packing?" he asked, scared of your answer.

"I'm going to Irene's. I can't stay with you when you're making me crazy like this." What you said was true; you were sure he'd crack your patience and make you go full sadist on him if you stayed in the same room as him for another minute – or even worse: another hour or whole night.

He felt relieved that you weren't breaking up with him over a silly argument, but he still didn't want you to stay over at your friend's when you both knew that it would be smarter to solve the tension instead.

"Stay with me," he pleaded lowly, sensing he didn't have many other options than pleading and hoping it'd be persuasive enough for you to stay with him.

"We need a night without each to calm down and have an adult discussion, alright?" you tried to explain, grabbing your now-fully-packed bag, and heading to the door to continue your journey to your awesome best friend.

When Haechan didn't talk back, you turned away from the doorway and to the bed to see why he was being quiet and not protesting some more like he usually would. He was looking you in the eyes as he pulled the hoodie off his torso and threw it your way. You caught it in your hand. Proceeding, he pulled down his pants, making sure he did it slowly enough to send you signals that he wasn't planning on putting on his PJs.

As he stood in only his boxers in front of you, a new bulb lit up above his head – and this one was even brighter than the last one – maybe he did have more options than to plead and strip.

With a smirk he sat down on the foot of the bed, maintaining eye contact, and pulled down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. You were speechless when he had stripped down to almost full nudity, but what shocked you the most was that just speaking to him disrespectfully had turned him on.

The moment he started touching his cock and moaning like a bitch, you realized that he had purposely been naughty so you could punish him. He had whined in you ear all day, stripped and masturbated when you wanted to leave because he wanted this; he wanted to be punished.

So, you decided to do it.

You dropped the bag and went to your wardrobe, taking out a box you'd kept secret from Haechan. He looked your way curiously, analyzing your reaction while still stroking his cock rudely. Damn, he hoped you were doing something femdom related.

"Safeword?" you asked, examining the nostalgic box of memory-making apparatuses, trying to decide which ones you wanted to use to make memories tonight.

"Sun," he answered, smiling at the victory; he was going to get fucked literally.

"I hope you understand that I'm going to have to punish you for being such a naughty boy."

"Yes, Mommy," he said oh so naturally.

You looked back at him after he said the last word, watching him lay down on the bed, boxers in a random corner of the room. He seemed experienced or like he'd had a fantasy about calling you that word for a while, no stutter, and thankfully that made it easier for you decide on which toys to use on him.

"Naughty boys don't deserve to touch Mommy," you turned to him with a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs. He blushed a little, not expecting the object you chose to punish him with to be so adorable. Did he seriously think that was all you were going to use as punishment when he'd riled you up like this?

How cute.

Walking slowly to him, you threw the cuffs onto the bed beside his legs and startled him a bit at the suddenness of the action. He had teased you, and you wanted to make sure he'd feel teased as well – and what better way to do that than to use one of his biggest weaknesses against him? Smirking, you pulled off your shirt, leaving your upper body in only a bra – a pink one. He had always liked that color – though he denied it since it wasn't manly to like pink.

You climbed on top of his body and took the cuffs in your hands again, getting ready to restrain him. He was breathing heavily, getting aroused by your body above his, and especially by your boobs that were clad in such a lovely color. Although he liked the bra, he would've loved to see your boobs without anything covering them.

"Hold your arms up for me, Channie," you ordered, to which he listened to instantly. He held them up against the bed frame, assuming you were going to cuff him to it. But he was wrong. You didn't want him to predict his punishment; you wanted everything to be a surprise that not even his fantasy could come close to.

Instead of cuffing his wrists to the frame of the bed, you cuffed them to nothing. Yes, nothing. It may sound boring to restrain your partner to nothing, but it was the opposite; restraining him to air meant that he still could choose to disobey you further by bringing his arms down. "You're going to keep your arms here, and if you at any point put them down and touch me it'll add to your punishment, understood?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Oh, don't act like a good boy all of a sudden. You're getting punished for a reason, Haechannie," you scoffed lightly, feeling soft from the sweetness that seemed to ooze naturally whether he tried to or not.

"But I am a good boy," he pouted, adding to the cuteness you adored so much.

"Only if you can manage this punishment, but until then you're a bad boy," you explained and turned back to the box to grab the last part of the punishment. He continued pouting, until he saw the object you took out: a strap on. After removing your pants, you put the fake dick on and adjusted it to your hips.

The strap wasn't bigger than the average dick as you didn't know how used he was to having dildos shoved up his ass – and even though you wanted to hurt him, you were still cautious over how harsh you were with him. He was your squishy Haechannie after all.

"You ready, Channie?" you asked as you crawled back to him, searching his face for any uncertainty. His big eyes and toothy smile hinted at him anticipating what you were about to do, but you still wanted a verbal answer as you wanted to make sure he was OK with being pegged.

He nodded quickly, "Yes, Mommy, I'm always ready for you."

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

❝ Violins playin' and the angels cryin'

When the stars align, then I'll be there

No, I don't care about them all

'Cause all I want is to be loved

And all I care about is you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo

No, I don't care about the pain

I'll walk through fire and through rain

Just to get closer to you

You're stuck on me like a tattoo ❞

—lorine zineb noka talhaoui; 2023

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