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ghostarii · 9 months

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CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU ! ～ JING YUAN . ❛ i want your bliss on bliss; a little company!

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CONTENT WARNING fem!reader ❱ golf dad!jing yuan ❱ dilf!jing yuan ❱ groping ❱ praise ❱ breeding kink ❱ size kink ❱ perv!jing yuan ❱ PWP!!!!! ❱ age gap ❱ cunnilingus ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ pussy drunk!jing yuan ❱ locker room sex ❱ jy’s kinda gross ❱ coercion ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (pls stay safe) ❱ pet names (mostly pretty [girl] & little one ❱ dubious consent ❱ dirty talk ❱ not proofread in the slightest ❱ minors and dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  TIP i’ve had this idea floating around in my wee wittle brain for quite some time so here’s perv golf dilf jing yuan ! ! i didnt rlly have a plot for this nor an idea on how to execute the vibe in my mind so truly i apologize if this is not that good :’( this got way messier than intended n i took forever writing it cause i kept getting stuck. i rlly rushed this toward the end cause i rlly wanted to post it so i rlly hope u guys like it 😿 rbs n feedback is always greatly appreciated <33 (pls don’t report i worked rlly hard on this n comm guidelines r so mean)

˖ ⁺ ⫾  GB 7.2k+ words .

JING YUAN CAN’T help it. He doesn't know what drives him to do it; to stare at you until holes are burned in you or touch you carelessly or talk about you like you're a piece of meat, he can't help it. It's akin to a primal urge, or manly instinct that makes him defile you disgustingly and unapologetically—and it makes him feel like a gross teen boy whose dick grows hard at the simple mention of women, but it's something about this aura of naivety and peace that swarms you that brings this carnal desire out of him. You’re the perfect prey, helpless, unsuspecting, and trusting of the ill-intended, hungry predator. Everything makes his heart flutter and his stomach gnarl—he turns into a different man because of you.

Friendly, neighborhood, retired Army General and current Xianzhou Police Chief Jing Yuan was a mask to cover perverse, snobby, and icky pervert Jing Yuan; the one who got a kick at making you do silly tasks so he can stare up your skirt and who always told you to take a seat so he can press up on you and grope you indistinctly. He sees you and immediately a deviant fire is kindled in his chest, his cheeks heat up and his skin runs cold. It's nasty, but he can't help it.

He needs you selfishly. He can't stand to watch you talk to other men and tend to their needs—sure, it's your job to pour them lemonade and escort them to the spa and guide them around the country club for a look at all the activities, and he respects that you're a hard and diligent worker, but seeing you with other men boils his blood. It's as if the lines between reality and his fucked up fantasy world have blurred, and you belong to him, you're his woman and he stakes his claim on you like a wild animal. Jing Yuan likes how you don't question how he suddenly needs your assistance, and that it's impossible for anyone but you to do it, because it lets these other men know that you respond to him. He's never felt this way about a woman before, not even the mother of his own child, so it means you're special. You mean much deeper to him than you could ever understand and all he wants is your company and to love you down into the cage of his heart.

It's not a crime to have a crush. It's not a crime to be in love with a woman you barely know. And it's not a crime to imagine her stuffed with your kids after watching her interact with yours. A crime? No. Weird? Maybe; but Jing Yuan does it anyway.

On the occasion when he brings Yanqing to the club, he gets on his best behavior. They play friendly games of golf and lounge about in the garden area, and eat up a storm in the illustrious dining hall—normal father-and-son things. Nothing out of the ordinary, people wouldn't even know that all Jing Yuan could think about was you and how sweet your pussy must taste as he eats ice cream with his son. He stays on his best outward behavior, truly—you wouldn't have even known he was in the bathroom jerking off because something about you today set him off.

He walks into the dining hall, looking around to see you. Yanqing had run off to the pool ages ago, so Jing Yuan had some time to himself…or, rather, time for you and him. He thought about how he would take you and claim you for far too long now. He thinks about it too much, actually. And that’s insane; considering the fact that you only started working at Stargazer Navalia Country Club two months ago.

He goes to his usual spot: against the wall on the northeastern side of the hall. It's slightly tucked away, the ceiling lights on that side are dim and the roaming eyes of others are limited. It's perfect for him when he touches you and even more perfect to convince you to have a seat and chat with him. You always listen, always fall for his lonely old man act, even though you've seen him with his snob friends Luocha and Dan Feng, and he's more than well-known around the community—he’s far from lonely, but his lips utter such pitiful deception that you can't help but spare him some of your company.

Jing Yuan has been doing this for a few weeks. He’ll invite you over for a refill of the house's special lemonade, sipping the juice as soon as you finish pouring, letting his lips smack obnoxiously, his tongue running across his top lip, and muttering out an “Ahh, so sweet…”, keeping eye-contact with you. His plump, rosy lips will break into a smile at your widened eyes and flustered expression, and that's when he asks you to stay. “Wouldn’t you give me a moment of your time? C’mon…call it…customer service.”

Usually, he’ll sit across from you and ask about your day. He’ll listen to your short spiels about your coworkers or your university and even your extremely personal information about your family and friends. It's cute how you open up with abandon, and he likes how apologetic you get when you feel like you’ve spoken too much. He’ll reach across the table and tap your pouted lips, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Keep going,” and he stares at your lips as you talk his ear off. But today—today, Jing Yuan is pushing the limits.

He invited you over, and instead of you sitting across from him, he pulls the chair next to him. Your proximity is close, no closer than ever before, but close enough that you feel like he can hear your heartbeat. He drapes a buff arm around the back of your chair, the pads of his fingers just barely ghosting over your biceps. He takes a deep breath, presumably to settle into his seat but actually to breathe you in. You smell sweet. He wonders if you taste sweet.

“How was your day?” the man starts. It's okay, it's fine, it’s just Jing Yuan—he’s fine! You nod your head, “Okay…not too eventful but um…kind of busy.” He immediately replies “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Your shift started at eleven o'clock this morning, and you clocked in slightly late earning your managers, Ms. Yukong, mouthful of scolding. “Again? This is the third time in a row…” She was a strict woman. Yukong was adamant about running an establishment—not a job. In her mind, there's a distinct difference, a fine line that separates Stargazer Navalia Country Club from other leisure resorts, and that line was drawn by poise, professionalism, and punctuation—the three Ps. You essentially lacked all of that. You’re always late, and if you’re not late, you’re just barely making it, you run around a lot and don't collect yourself. Oftentimes, you take on too much than you can handle and overwhelm yourself, making a fool of yourself before the very opinionated eyes of the patrons. And you were clumsy. The country club was your first service job and your first job ever. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your parents didn’t force independence upon you and you complained to your friend, Tingyun, about your unfair predicament, and she promised to put in a good word for you to her boss. That good word was a basket full of fabrications and exaggerations. Yukong told you that you were fortunate to be allowed to work at the club, but it was hanging in the balance if you didn’t step up your game.

Jing Yuan hadn’t expected a full rant, but he was glad that you felt like you could talk to him. He wants to hold you, tell you that Yukong is a miserable bitch and she doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You can't do any wrong—that woman wouldn’t know poise, professionalism, and punctuation if it slapped her across the face, so who was she to criticize perfection?

He gets even more upset when your chest starts to heave and you’re blinking back tears, explaining how you cried after leaving Yukong’s office and felt so useless and stupid. And you made it your mission today to do your best. No overworking, no clumsiness, and no more strikes earned. Your head was on a dart board, and Yukong was aiming at the bullseye.

You told him you just wanted to be good. To be worth something because you aren't incompetent. If only you knew how he saw you.

Tears run down your warm cheeks and your frowned lips curve into a sad smile, a laugh escaping as you pat away tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry…”

“…I should be getting back to work…” You move to get up but Jing Yuan stops you, his big hand on your thigh. This isn't new, but your eyes meet and you almost burst into tears again. Your lips frown up again and quiver and your eyes gloss over—oh, you poor thing. He squeezes your thigh as if to tell you you’re okay, but when that doesn't seem to stop the tidal wave of tears from beating at the barrier of your blinking eyelids, he pulls you in.

It's a hug. You've hugged people before. You do it all the time. Even to him—you’ve hugged Jing Yuan before, but this? This is different. He cradles the back of your head as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and he kisses your hair softly. He’s warm, like the summer heat, and your body feels like it’s on fire. His fingers stroke at your hair as if he was trying to soothe your feelings, and it works, you sniffle and softly whimper, curling your fingers against his thighs. He's taking care of you and if only you could understand what you’re doing to him. His cock is slowly growing stiffer and heat lights beneath his skin as it does yours. You feel so weak and small in his hold and God, is it doing something to him. Your breathing brushes your tits against his side and he wants to feel them pressed against his chest as he pounds into you. Your sniffles and tears that form small puddles on his shirt make him think about how you would cry from overstimulation and his big cock stretching you out.

He needs to get a grip. To stop his gross thoughts but it's no use when your entire existence is an aphrodisiac to him. It was a short hug, no longer than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. When you pull away, Jing Yuan can't look at you. He can't look at your flushed cheeks, glossy eyes, clumped lashes, and pouted lips—he can’t look because he won’t be able to contain himself. You clear your throat and sit up, wiping your eyes and smudging your cheap mascara. He’s slightly upset that you’re leaving already, so before you go, he pinches the hem of your shirt, pulling you back.

“It's gonna be okay, little one. Have a good day.” He pats your head and smiles at you. You get flustered and quickly nod, running off as if to disappear.

You find it hard to have a good day when you’re wrapped up in your head, thinking about Yukong, yourself, and Mr. Jing Yuan. He was a nice man, sometimes too nice and you were unsure if that was a negative or a positive.

His touches feel like they’re burned into your skin. When you think about his tight, warm, and world-erasing hug, your skin tingles and births goosebumps to the surface. When you think about his deep, reverberating voice praising you and denying the existence of imperfection in you, you run hot. It’s a dangerous juxtaposition that left you an unfocused mess, productivity being the last thing of your concern. How bothered your body felt was in big bold letters in your brain, and it was hard to not prove Yukong’s harsh words about you right. You needed to get it together, but it was hard when Jing Yuan lingered in your mind like a deadly plague.

You catch Tingyun up during your dishes duty, scrubbing the dirtied plates, bowls, spoons, and forks and passing them to the girl to be dried. She laughs at you, shaking her head as she spins her hand around the inside of the porcelain bowl. “Can I be honest with you?” You nod at Tingyun’s question, “his intentions are less than pure. He’s nice and all but I think you should create boundaries. I don't like how every time you tell me about him he's grabbing on you and stuff…”

You have an issue with seeing the best in people. You can’t see anybody as evil—their actions don’t define their character in your mind and that's a fatal flaw. You shake your head at Tingyun’s words, smiling, “I don’t agree. He’s just…I don’t know.” you shut the water off, and set down the plate in your hand. “I think he’s just lonely—”

“—He has friends. His golfing buds…?” She points out. You sigh and shake your head. “Yeah, but they don't come to the club often.”

Tingyun rolls her eyes. “Can you be for real? What company can you provide to a man who’s nearly double your age?”

On that front, Tingyun had a point. You’re still in college, barely coasting your way through your third year and Jing Yuan is in his mid-to-late thirties, pushing forty. He was a dad and you were a student. He lived his life—he’s on his second career, and you’ve only just barely begun working your first job. You never knew what to talk to him about and you never understood what he talked about. There was a disconnect, but you felt like that didn't impede the slight friendship you had. “He just needs someone to talk to!”

“Didn't know talking included his hands on your ass but okay.” Her snide remark makes you frown. He wasn’t all that bad. Tingyun didn't get it.

Her eyes immediately meet yours and she softens. “Sorry.” You nod to her apology, cutting the tap back on and resuming your work. You didn't like to be judgemental and you wanted to give Jing Yuan the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t all that bad and you liked him—for the most part. She pats your shoulder softly. She does mean well. “Just be safe, okay?”

“You never know what’s going on in someone's head.”

It’s so hot. The weather forecast called for unbearable heat and ungodly levels of humidity. The sun was angry at the world, shining down harshly and roasting your skin. Surprisingly, the club had seen the most members today. It was filled to the brim, bustling and condensing heat at every corner that you couldn’t escape.

Your uniform was dripping in sweat and it was sticking to your skin. Your hair, pulled away from your face, felt like it was dripping onto your shoulders. You were hot. And luckily for you, Qingque had taken off from work today due to the heat, leaving her shift open. You swooped in and took the role, slipping off your uniform when the clock hit 2:30 and sliding into the lifeguard swimsuit. It was tight fitting but comfortable and paired with the visor blocking the mean sun from your face, you felt fine.

Lathering a security layer of sunscreen onto your skin, you make your way to the pool, reciting Yukong’s words in your head. You had met with her at the beginning of your shift where she told you this was your last chance. Lifeguarding wasn’t some fun easy-money task. Screwing around the way you usually do could be at the cost of someone’s life and she wouldn’t put anyone at risk. At all. So you go with your head up and a warm smile, climbing up and sitting down with a hawk eye on the pool.

The water was clear blue and rippling. Bare flesh and bright swimsuits are blurred and hazy under the surface of the water. It’s a nostalgic scene, sweet chatter and giggles from the playing children, splashing water, and pattering wet feet on the hot pavement work together to induce peace upon you. This is a scene you could get used to, especially when Jing Yuan emerges from the water.

He looks divine. His upper body is exposed, large muscles flexed as he lifts his body weight from beneath the water, resting on the edge of the pool. His water-darkened hair slumps heavily in his ponytail, flipping over as he shakes his head, ridding of the water. And the water spills down his skin deliciously, thick droplets pathing down his body. It’s a sight to behold and you can't help but stare.

Jing Yuan wonders if this is how you feel. Ogled and objectified down to the bone. Your shade-hidden eyes bore into him when they should be watching the children. But he likes it. He feels like today is going to be a good day.

He comes to the pool often, usually just watching Yanqing show him his “tricks”, but he notices the order. The lifeguards cycle every forty-five minutes. He noticed it the first time when one of them took off immediately after jumping in after a panicking Yanqing, but today it was going to come to his aid. Today was the day. He’d waited too long, thought about it too hard…Jing Yuan’s fantasy world was going to pour into reality. That in itself was a terrible horror.

He waits patiently for forty-five minutes. Splashing water with his son occasionally, stepping out of the pool for a rest, or waving at you as he floats atop the water. Forty-five minutes. Tick tock.

He stops you on your way inside. His towel was thrown over his shoulder and his wet hair slung up into his fixed ponytail. You’re so enthralled by his state that you aren't taking into consideration the lazily fabricated lie that he needed your urgent attention to. You were no dummy. Jing Yuan is an overly attractive man, but he was out of your league and the father to a boy only seven years younger than you. Your lives were incompatible and frankly, he wasn't what you were looking for. Attractive? Yes. Boyfriend material? Not so much.

Regardless, you follow him to the locker room to look for his supposed missing watch. You ask him where his locker is located and he points around the corner, “125D.” His locker is tucked off around the corner, deep in the row and far from anyone’s initial line of sight. You see his golf bag resting against the wall and Yanqing’s goggles on the bench and make your way to it, “Where did you last have the watch?”

This was way out of your jurisdiction, and, besides, he was the police chief—what the hell could you do to help him find a missing watch? Nonetheless, you listen intently as he provides the details: he took it off to go swimming, placed it on the shelf in the locker, and came back to find it missing. You nod slowly, diligently looking through the slim locker. There’s not much in it and not much space a watch could slip through, so you’re confused. It's clearly not here. “I don't think I can be much help for you, you’re better off checking with whoever was in here last.”

And then his body is close to you. Your proximity thickens with the chlorine and sandalwood scent he carries, and his broad form towers over you. Your breath hitches and your body tenses as a large hand lays against the back of your thigh, running up your bare skin until it meets the curve of your ass. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. You feel like you’re frozen, stuck beneath him, and that only urges him further.

His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you in, resting his chin on your shoulder and breathing you in with a deep breath. You can feel his exhale on your neck and you shudder, pushing away to create distance. Jing Yuan only tightens his big grip on you, “I want you…” he murmurs, leaning into your neck. His lips ghost over your skin and you squirm, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.

You try to tell him that but it's futile. He presses his slightly chapped lips against your neck in fluttery kisses, wrapping his lips around nips of skin every now and then and leading a path to your collarbone. He steals a look at you from the side, “Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop.”

He now frames your body beneath his, pressing you against the cold lockers. You wince at the harshness of how he handles you—how his hands incessantly run up and down your body and gropes your assets and how he grinds his dick against your ass. He breathes heavily against you, grunting and growling in your ear as he edges himself closer and closer to the brink of losing control.

You try to speak up. To tell him you can't do this and that here is not the place. But you part your lips to object, only for a whimper to escape in its place. You’re shaking your head no but it opposes the sounds that leave you and the subconscious grind back of your hips. Jing Yuan uses his right hand to cup your pussy with a hardened gaze watching your reaction: your eyes widen and then squeeze shut, and you roll your lips inward, pressing them shut. He feels a slight throb when he presses his fingers against your sex, and the heat that radiates from you is all telling. “Stop fighting it…don’t deny it…you need me to take care of you.”

Kisses on your neck resume as he rubs your clothed clit, using the way your knees buckle as leverage to slightly bend your over, grinding into you rougher. “Can't you feel how hard you make me, baby? Fuck,” he whispers, his grinding now turning into desperate rutting. “Indulge me, just a little…say yes…”

You’re shaking your head no, fighting his words. You think that if you close your eyes hard enough you’ll wake up in the real world and this will have all just been in your head. The sight of the lockers in front of you dispels that thought instantly. You fight against your own body, swallowing down the sounds of pleasure that rumble in you at his touch. You promised Yukong you would do a better job. You liked working here. If she found out you had sex with a customer during work hours in the public locker room, she’d have your head on stake. But God, he knew what he was doing. It’s like Jing Yuan knows how to get into your head. All of his innuendos day in and day out, his flirtatious banter, and his wandering eyes the past few months have been test runs on you that he’s conducted for his fucked up memory log. So he could prepare for this moment. So he knew how to make you weak and make you succumb to his advances. You were a nice girl with a hard time saying no. You always indulged his requests and always did what was told to you. His constant “Say yes, baby. Say it. You know you want this,” in your ear was persuasive enough for your weak resolve. Soon enough, you’re quietly parroting his words.

“Y-yes…I…I want it,” you huff out, and he stops.

Jing Yuan lets you go—pulling off of you and spinning you around. Then, he’s swiftly pushing you against the lockers, caging you in with his big arms on either side of you. His golden eyes are richer, darkened with fantasy and lust as they bore into yours. His rosy lips curve into a sinister smirk, “Look me in my eyes and say you want me to fuck you.”

Your eyes meet, locking with each other softly. You’re telling yourself in your head that you can say no, but your mouth moves first, “I want you…to…” you grow shy at the words, and Jing Yuan smiles at you. He steps closer, grabbing your chin softly and your waist with his free hand, pulling you in. “Sweet girl…” he mumbles, brushing his lips against yours and bumping your noses.

Your kiss is sweet. It's the type of fairytale kiss, the type of wonderful kiss that whips the air out of you and has fireworks blowing in your pretty little head. Your lips mold and work together, and he takes his time getting acquainted with your mouth. He waits until you part your lips on your own to invade your mouth, and even then, he tenderly explores the cavern. He kisses you with dominance and experience. He kisses you with passion and desire. He kisses you like he’s in love with you.

You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into you, chasing his kiss as if he was trying to leave you. It begins to heat up. Impatience grows like mold between the two of you, you begin to want and need each other more. His hand gripping your chin wraps briefly around your neck to pull you closer, and his hand around your waist moves to your ass, cupping a cheek in his palm and roughly squeezing. He sucks on your tongue, moaning deeply into your mouth. Teeth start to clash and tongues start to bump and spin, spit dribbling out of your mouths. He bites onto your bottom lip as he pulls away, and then catches the drool running down your face with his tongue, running back up on its path to your mouth. With your saliva on his tongue, he kisses you harshly one last time—a kiss that makes you lean your head against the lockers behind you, giving him access to the expanse of your neck.

He admires the hickeys he already left, kissing them tenderly before leaving a few more. His teeth drag on your neck, and he's pulling the straps of your swimsuit down your arms. It's agonizingly slow and you look away, not able to face him as he unveils your body to him.

It's like a dream. Even better than. All of his fantasies and perverted thoughts haven't done any justice to how you look—the most perfect, pretty boobs with hard nipples that are begging to be played with, the most gorgeous frame that pops even more without your clothes, your dips and curves begging to be filled by his grip, and your pretty pussy, which he takes his time getting to and unveiling. He gets on his knees, kisses your soft thighs, and slowly pulls your swimsuit down to your ankles. You try to hide, feeling vulnerable and anxious in your fully naked state but he pulls your legs apart, kissing the inside of your thigh. “You’re beautiful…”

“Prettiest thing I've ever seen…” he says, trailing up your legs. He doesn't give you time to fall into your mind. He exhales deeply, letting the air from his nose blow against your pussy. You squirm but he pulls your legs apart again, looking up at you as he places a chaste kiss on your slit.

You’re already wet, susceptible to his touch, and fragile. You slightly leak past your labia and his lips shine in your slick. Eye contact remains as he licks your arousal off his lips, swallowing your taste with a satisfied hum. “So sweet, too. Better than I ever imagined.”

Something about his admission flusters you. You knew he enjoyed your company, but you didn't know he put thought into you this way. It flatters you, to say the least, and your body responds in a very telling way: your clit throbbing and hole clenching in need.

Jing Yuan smiles at how you can't hold eye contact with him and how you look down at him with urging eyes. Your body gives him the okay your mouth fails to do, and he dives in, wedging his tongue between your folds to lick a thick stripe. You gasp loudly and slam your palm against the locker behind you, seemingly caught off guard by his action. And then he does it again. This time, making his way to your clit slowly, only to circle around the bud but not pay it any attention. And again, this time only lightly flicking your clit with his tongue and ghosting over it but ultimately focusing on collecting your sweet juices, slurping it down with an obnoxious volume.

Your position is fixed—you’re stuck. Your legs are draped over his shoulders as you basically sit on his face, and he holds you tightly by your soft thighs. Your gaze is filed unto each other, unmoving, and he watches with glee at how you react when he finally gives your clit attention. He wraps his lips around the bud, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You practically burst into tears. You moan out, immediately threading your fingers in his white locks. “Oh, fuck,”

He abuses your clit until your voice goes hoarse. He doesn't care that people could probably hear you. He wants them to. He wants them to hear his name flow from your mouth like syrup out of a maple tree—thick in lust and fatally sweet. Your moans sound even prettier in reality. Jing Yuan has come to the conclusion that you are one of a kind. No wild or active imagination could do you justice. He could eat you out for days—you’re just so sweet and so easy to please. Your clit getting sucked on sets you off and when he runs his thick tongue through your sloppy folds to collect your stream of arousal, you whine even louder, competing with his slurping and licking noises.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, pretty girl,” he says, pulling away from your folds. “Wanna taste all of you,” and he presses a kiss to your clit. You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding rapidly, “Please! Wanna cum so bad…”

He’s determined now. Like a man starved, he practically feasts on you. His tongue is everywhere—licking and swirling from every direction and it drives you insane. You can feel the burning tension in your gut churn and to egg its release out of you, you toy with your nipples, resting your head against the lockers as ecstasy overcomes you. You whine and whimper out meek little “Yes!”’s and “Oh, God!”’s like those are the only words you know, feeling your orgasm so close that it heats your skin to the touch.

Your back arches and eyes blow wide, your body fighting against itself. You trap his head between your thighs but push his head away, damn near screaming at the top of your lungs that it's too much and you can't take it. This pushes Jing Yuan to do more, to tighten his hold on your thighs and suffocate himself in your pussy. Knock the tip of his nose against your puffy clit and probe your clenching hole with his tongue. His jaw hurts but he keeps it up well, humming and moaning endlessly to send warm vibrations through your skin. His name breaks off of your tongue so weakly and your head feels light. It's like something in you snaps, like all composure and decency melts off of you in an instant. You could care less about Yukong or anybody else for that matter. This entire room could cease to exist and it wouldn't matter because Jing Yuan has blasted you off to cloud nine. The feeling of his tongue swimming through your folds is pleasure in its purest form and it pushes you to the deep end, drowning you in overwhelming ecstasy.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and you pull the long locks as if it’d stabilize you from the wreckage your pending orgasm was bringing upon you. A silent moan falls from your lips, followed by an airy plea, “J-Jing Yuan, please..!” Your voice falters and falls into another broken moan. Your back arches yet again and your hips buck into his face, and there it is. That tight band in your stomach snaps and your orgasm wracks through you roughly. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves heavily—you feel like you can't breathe. And he doesn't let up, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit for the harshest suck of the night, humming happily as you squirm and spasm in his hold.

You come undone, dripping down his face like a rushing waterfall. He cleans you up with his tongue, continuing to help you come down from your high even as you whimper and sniffle from overstimulation. With peppery kisses, he pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips clean and rolling his eyes at your taste. “You did so good for me, baby.”

A carnal glint shines in his eye as he takes your waist in his hands, pulling you into him for a kiss. Your lips connect with fervor. He immediately establishes dominance, invading your mouth with hunger and greed. Your teeth clash and knock and your tongue is bullied by his. Your taste on his mouth is strong and it's hard to ignore it, and on him, it tastes wonderful. Your legs are jelly, useless. He holds you up with his hands but ultimately decides to press you against the lockers once again, grinding his painfully aching hard-on onto your thigh. No. This can't happen. The longer you're in the locker room with him, the more risk that's run. People are going to start leaving the club soon, and you don't know what you’d do if they caught you like this.

You try to push him away but he only presses into you more, rutting against you more desperately and aggressively. You gave him an inch, and now he's going to take a mile.

He growls against your lips before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. “Gotta have you, baby,” he starts, pulling down his swim trunks. His hard cock jumps out, leaking and hard and so thick it makes your eyes bulge out of your head. You can't do this. You open your mouth to protest but he just kisses you again, shutting you down instantly. He takes your hand in his, bringing it down to his dick, and forces you to hold his girth in your hand. He's heavy and hard. Two prominent veins bulge and throb and his angry tip spills milky beads of precum into a pool in his slit. He makes you jerk him off, groaning into your mouth deeply, “Fuck. Need you so bad, little one. Need your sweet little pussy wrapped around me, need to feel you, to fill you—oh, fuck. Let me? Give me that, please.”

He practically begs you. He ruts into your hand and speaks into your mouth like a bitch in heat—you’re finding it hard to deny him. And he keeps begging. Keeps nipping at your lips and swiping your jaw now and then with his tongue. He's desperate. And you feel like you have no choice. “…Okay.”

Jing Yuan doesn't notice the uncertainty in your tone. He nearly jumps for joy, kissing you so passionately and hooking his hands on your ass, hoisting you up into the air. You squeal and he laughs, kissing you again as he properly positions his tip at your entrance. “Been thinking about this since I first laid eyes on you,”

As he starts talking, he slowly slides you down on his length. You gasp and wince—he’s so fucking big. Your nails immediately dig into his shoulders and you try to brace yourself, but good God, it’s like he’s splitting your body into two. He slowly sinks in, kissing your cheeks and mumbling praises that don't do much to ease the burn of the stretch. You almost want to stop, but he's like a brick wall. Impossible to get through.

“You’re so tight…” He feels like he’s breaking you in. Like you’re untouched and not prepared to take him and it sets him off. Your whimpers are sweet and the way you hug him like you're scared to let go ignites that all-too-familiar carnal flame. He wants to ravage you. It takes a few moments but he finally bottoms out with a deep groan. “So tight…so wet…fuck, it's like you’re made for me.” He does an experimental thrust and his heart swells at how you moan into his ear and clench around him tighter. “Taking me so well,”

This starts a rhythm of slow thrusts, the two of your bodies getting to know each other. Jing Yuan is so big and he feels even bigger inside of you. Your cunt feels like it's being reformed in its shape, stretching around him widely to accommodate every bit of him. And your pussy around him was so worth the wait. Your gummy walls welcome him with a tight, warm hug, and you leak down his length unabashedly. The combination of your arousal and his slow thrusts get you two acquainted quickly, and he steadily starts to pick up the pace.

Jing Yuan has shortly found his rhythm. He thrusts up into you while simultaneously maneuvering your hips down and you’ve never felt anything like this before. He pounds you. Hard. Rough. And slowly gains speed. His heavy balls slap at your ass and your puffy clit kisses his pelvis and it all makes you weak. You bury your head into his neck and pull him closer to you, feeling enveloped in his strong hold. How he's easily able to hold you up and fuck you the way is he makes your stomach churn and knot. There's a rhythmic slapping that coordinates with his grunts and your cries and it's so loud and lewd, you’re sure the whole country club knows what you're doing. But it doesn't bother you. Because yet again, Jing Yuan works your body like an expert, plunging into your depths so well that you can't do anything but clench and drip around him like a broken faucet.

His hands are on your ass, squeezing and slapping your cheeks to make you squeal out, practically yelling his name for the masses. It all feels too good. He knows what he's doing—how to angle his hips and find your G-spot almost instantly and abuse it until you feel like your brain has melted into mush, how to mix the pain of his calloused hands slapping your ass sweetly with the pleasure he bestows upon you, how to sweet-talk into your ear and flatter you so well that butterflies are born in your tummy and your hole clenches even tighter around him. He's experienced. He's taking your body on a trip it's sure to never forget and never replicate, and you wish you knew how he did it, because he’s only been thrusting into you for a few minutes and you feel like you're about to explode.

He's now pounding into you more furiously, and you chalk that up to his orgasm approaching him as well. “I'm gonna cum again—!” you announce, voice low in a broken whisper. His thrusts get sloppy and he grunts to concur, “Me too—look at me,”

Your eyes meet and this might be the rawest moment you've ever had with Jing Yuan. There's nothing but passion and adoration in his golden eyes as he looks at you. And as he kisses you for the nth time this evening, it's soft. Kind. A complete one-eighty from how desperately and angrily he bullies his thick cock into your drooling cunt. “Cum with me.” It's more of a demand than a request, but you nod in understanding anyway. You want to feel him throb and empty out his balls inside you. You want to hear his voice crack and break as he moans out your praises. You want to feel him give it to you until he can't anymore.

He snaps his hips into you, hard and one at a time. He goes as deep as possible, making your eyes blow wide and spill tears. He's so deep in your stomach it's almost like he pops the bubble of your orgasm himself, and you're spilling all over him in a matter of seconds. It was unexpected and you drawl out a whiny moan, grinding your hips back onto him subconsciously. Your orgasm makes him follow suit, and soon enough, you're filled to the brim with his semen. Warm ropes mix nastily with your own release and it drips out of your hole as he continues to thrust through your orgasms.

“Oh shit…’s good, little one.” He kisses your cheek and carries you to the bench, laying you down. “One more for me, ‘kay?”

Your mind is lagging behind. You didn't even catch his statement until he was sliding into you again, pressing your hands against your stomach to feel him inside of you. “So deep…”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn't it?” He wastes no time, not sparing a second to waste. You're still so sensitive, and so is he, and everything is so sloppy. So messy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he finds your sweet spot again, and fuck, it feels so good. “‘M not gonna last…”

Jing Yuan basically crushes you against the hard bench, closing the proximity between you two and harboring the flame between your chests. His head in the crook of your neck shakes, “Me neither. Want you to keep it all in.” His pathetic rutting elicits the wettest sounds from your pussy, and the empty locker room echoes it around with bass. He runs on and on about stuffing you full, fucking his kids into you and you don't know what at what point that started to sound good to you. Your belly rumbled in that all-too-familiar wait, your orgasm wasted no time in building.

Your eyes start to tear even harder and white blotches soon cover your whole line of sight—but not before Jing Yuan stills inside of you, dumping his second load inside of you with a guttural groan and clench of his abdomen. He rubs rough circles on your clit, murmuring about how you can do it until you clench around him, squirming beneath him as your orgasm hits you again. He doesn't pull out. He keeps you plugged up with his cock, forbidding his cum from leaving you. You didn't expect this to happen. Ever. But Jing Yuan? He always knew. It was just a matter of when.

So when your sight returns and you open your eyes to see him leaning over you, you smile happily. It was almost like you're Cinderella and he's Prince Charming, coming to rescue you from your hellish job in the most unconventional way possible. But unconventional feels good.

He won. No matter what he had to do, he won. His fantasy came to fruition and he would rather nothing else. This moment will be forever cherished, even if the distant opening of the door sounds off, and footsteps rapidly approaching bring you back to reality. He won. And nothing, or nobody, can change that. You’re all his now.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai smut #honkai star rail x you #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr jing yuan #hsr x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x you #☆. on queue #jing yuan #hsr angst #hsr fanfic #jing yuan imagines

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autolenaphilia · 3 months

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I’ve seen a lot of explanations for young queer people being so weirdly puritan, as in the no-kink-at-pride discourse, the anti-ship people working themselves into moralistic anger paroxysms over fanfic and the frequent callouts of people over harmless consensual kinks. Like people, including myself, have attributed it to the after-effects of an evangelical Christian upbringing or the related problem of the very sheltered and isolated childhoods many of these people have had. And that’s all probably true to a certain extent.

But honestly, it’s probably boils down to a simple thing: a form of queer respectability politics. All forms of queerness in cishetnormative society are seen as freakish degenerate perversion, but some are seen as worse than others. And openly disavowing other queers with weird kinks is the most common form to buy respect from normie society, and it does have some material benefits for them. It’s common to almost all forms of oppression for there to be a dynamic of asking certain sections of the oppressed to sell out other oppressed people for their own benefit. Divide and conquer. This has gone on for literally decades. The respectable monogamous cis white gay male couple who condemn those other gays who are into leather and bondage and casual sex is almost a cliché at this point.

And let’s be honest, some people in the queer community are more privileged than others and thus able to wield this kind of respectability politics against those more oppressed than them. This is why transfems are so often targeted by TME queers for callouts over harmless kinks. There is little more disgusting to the cishetnormie mind than a transfem being sexual. And so other queers are able to wield transmisogyny to build their own respectability. What all those callouts from TME queers are actually saying, if you would do a They Live glasses style analysis, is:“I’m not a degenerate perverted sex freak, but that transfem over there is, do harm to her, not me.”

Transmisogyny is so strong that the figure of the degenerate transfem can even be used to redeem previously unacceptable figures of queer sexuality. I’ve seen multiple posts that present the aforementioned leather and bondage cis gay male kinksters as wholesome in contrast with whatever evil kink they are ascribing to transfems this week. Nothing is as evil to anti-kink moralists as two trans lesbians who do fauxcest roleplay by calling themselves sisters.

And when queers deprogram themselves from cisheteronormativity, they tend to do it in very self-serving ways. They only unlearn their bigotry and disgust against varieties of queerness that apply to them. So cis gays accept that cis gay male and cis lesbian sex is fine, various TME trans people unlearn their bigotry against tme non-binary people or taking testosterone. The queer things that are part of their identity, that they are inclined to do. But basically no variety of queer listed in this paragraph have any strong incentive to unlearn their bigotry and disgust against transfems, their transmisogyny And why would they? They can use transmisogyny to their own benefit, to raise their status within the queer community and in wider society by throwing transfems to the wolves.

#my writings #transmisogyny #callout culture #purity culture #respectability politics

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isahorcrux · 1 year

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In light of the recent announcement of the Harry Potter TV Show and the fact that this is primarily a Harry Potter fan fiction blog, the below needs to be said.

I am not excited about this show.

If you told my past self 5 years ago this, I’d be shocked. Five years ago, if they announced a Harry Potter TV show I’d be doing everything in my power to be involved some way or another. However, in the last five years JKR has shown her true colors and spent her free time and money attacking the trans community. There are many reasons why I’m not excited about the show or looking forward to it in any regard, but to me the most important is that this show gives JKR more money and cultural capital to further her anti-trans agenda. This is unacceptable.

I think a lot of us raised on Harry Potter really wanted to separate the art from the artist, dive further into fanfic and fandom and just ignore that the woman who created a world in which we’ve spent most of our lives escaping into. However, we can’t do that. It’s come to my attention over the past few days that a lot of people aren’t even aware of the active harm JKR is doing to the trans community. Most people just say, ‘oh she said some weird stuff on twitter’ right?

Well, yeah. But, did you also know she launched an active campaign against a reform bill that made it easier for trans people to legally change gender? You know what happened? The UK blocked that Bill and Scotland now has to launch a legal challenge to the government block. She’s also funding a Sex Abuse Crisis Center that excludes trans women. Yeah, that’s right. She’s using her money from a book about love and acceptance to actively exclude a marginalized group from a crisis center. She’s also publicly admitted via twitter that she funds anti-LGBTQ political activity in the UK.

So yeah, there’s a direct line of fans supporting official trademarked Harry Potter anything and that money directly harming transpeople. Sorry for that rude awakening, but some of y’all are doing backflips to avoid seeing this.

Now, is there a way to prevent Warner Brothers (and Max, lol) from making this show? Probably not? After mergers and at a point when the tv and film industry isn’t booming, they need money. You know what makes money? Harry Potter. Which is why they’re rebooting it. Another question that’s been raised, will the looming writer’s strike affect this? I would guess probably not? Most UK writers (and International writers at large) are not in the WGA. JKR has always wanted the most amount of British people involved in Harry Potter adaptations, so they’ll use the strike to find a UK writer and get them to work.

So what can we do?

Don’t watch the show. Or, if you do. Pirate it. In fact, cancel your Max subscription before the show launches.

They’re going to spend A LOT of money on this. If the numbers aren’t there for them they will do what every other streamer does with an unsuccessful show and cancel it. They announced 5 Fantastic Beast movies, and yet...where’s that last one?

Anyway, thanks for reading this whole thing if you’ve gotten this far. Please share with friends who are excited about the show. Please engage in meaningful discussions with other Potter fans. Please support our trans friends and strangers.

Once again, this blog says FUCK JKR.

#harry potter #I don't know if I'm supposed to censor her name or not but tumblr's not like twitter so I don't think I have to ?#idk let me know #my asks are open for meaningful discussion #but any anti trans retoric will be deleted and blogs will be blocked #I know I spelled retoric wrong but it's too late now #trans rights are human rights

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months

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Imagine Being Loved By Me

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Self deprecation, alcohol, mild angst, semi public smut, oral sex (m receiving) Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: Loose lips sink ships - a drunken night at the pub proves catastrophic for the secret fling she's been having with her best mate's brother. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She lays cocooned on the sofa, enveloped in the soft warmth of fluffy throw blankets. The sounds of an episode of Eastenders playing on the TV fill the small space of her living room, yet her attention is focused solely on her phone, cradled in her palm as her thumb hovers over the screen.

“Come to the pub, not seen you for ages.” Reads the text message from her best mate, Lana.

It’s true, she has seen less of Lana over the last couple of months, the sole cause of that is due to Lana’s younger brother, Billy. She had never meant for it to happen.

After Billy had been pulled from his car in Cranstead Gardens, only for it to blow up mere moments later - a bomb planted by a right wing group called The Crusaders, attempting to frame Billy for an attack on anti-fascist protestors, Billy had been in a bad way. Already plagued by struggles of self worth and identity, he was now traumatised on top of it.

Supporting Billy through all of it had taken a toll on Lana. She’d taken time off work to care for her younger brother, making sure he went to his therapy sessions, sitting up with him when his night terrors got too much for him to bear, making sure he ate and took care of himself.

She’d seen how tired Lana was becoming, the dark circles under her eyes growing more prominent every time she saw her. Spending so much time looking after Billy, she was forgetting to look after herself. Stepping in, she’d lended her own support, wanting to ease the burden on her best friend.

Countless cups of tea were made by her, she’d cooked massive pasta bakes and pots of chilli, ensuring that both Lana and Billy had dinner every day. In her bid to support her friend, she’d unwittingly become part of her brother’s life too.

It was an afternoon a week after Lana had gone back to work, she’d continued to pop round to Billy’s each day as a favour to her, just to check in on him and make sure he wasn’t letting the flat get in too much of a state.

They had been standing side by side in the kitchen, her rolling a cigarette for both of them, while Billy made tea. Their fingers had brushed as he’d passed her mug with one hand, while taking his rollie from her with the other, and for the briefest of moments their eyes had locked.

She felt as though time had stood still as she stared into his big blue eyes, and suddenly tea and cigarettes were forgotten as their lips met in a frenzied rush of passion. He’d pushed her back against the kitchen side and she’d giggled against his lips as they’d sent empty beer cans and dirty cutlery clattering to the floor.

In response, he’d lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he’d carried her to the bedroom. His breath had been heavy against her neck as he’d rutted hard into her against the rumpled bed sheets, while she’d stroked her fingers through his tousled sandy hair and whispered to him how good he was making her feel.

They’d laid there breathlessly afterwards and he’d made her swear not to tell Lana. It had made sense to her at the time, she’d thought it was a one off, and Lana would probably find it weird that her best friend and her younger brother had slept together.

But then it kept happening, and as time went on it felt more like a relationship than casual hooking up. Yet Billy continued to insist they kept it quiet, so she had, despite it seeming odd to her that they’d make a secret of something that clearly both made them happy.

And Billy did make her happy - most of the time. When things were good, they were really good; they’d spoon on his threadbare sofa, his laughter ruffling her hair as they watched reruns of The Simpsons. His large hand would always find its way up her top, wrapping around the dip in her waist, anchoring her to him.

When things were bad, they were awful. It would often happen after Billy’s weekly visits to the JobCentre to sign on, he’d come back petulant, closed off, in a place that was so far into his own mind that she couldn’t reach him. He’d lash out with angry words, filled with spite and vitriol if she tried to push him to open up, so she’d learned to retreat, to let him come to her.

Usually a day later, he’d reach back out and apologise, and things would be good again. Yet this time, a week had passed since she’d left Billy to his own devices and he hadn’t spoken to her at all.

She clicks away from Lana’s text, and onto her thread with her younger brother, faced with a stream of her own unanswered messages.

Fuck him.

If he doesn’t want to talk to her then perhaps her Friday night is better spent at the pub. She fires off a quick message to Lana, telling her she’ll be there in an hour before showering and getting herself ready.

The pavement is slick underfoot as she walks from her flat. It’s rained recently, and the smell of it hangs thick in the air, along with a brisk chill that causes her to pull her leather jacket tighter around herself, wishing she’d put on something warmer.

She pushes through the heavy barrier of the pub door, leaving behind the cold air, the smell of rain and the steady hum of traffic, for stifling warmth, the cloying scent of beer and raucous laughter.

Smiling when she spots Lana at a table in the corner, flanked by her mate and fellow EXPO, John, she heads over, taking a seat next to Lana and shrugs out of her jacket.

“Alright, stranger?” Lana looks warmly at her, eyes filled with familiar affection, “Mick’s just getting a round in.”

Her smile falters, stomach churning with disgust at the mention of Mick. He’s ex-military, a mutual friend of Joel and Lana. Since Joel had passed away in the Westhaven Estate bombing, he had latched onto Lana, and it made her skin crawl. She hated his arrogance and the way he always leered at her, he took cheap shots at Billy’s expense whenever he was around, despite repeatedly being told to stop.

“Great,” she says, the dullness of her tone not matching the enthusiasm of the word.

Before Lana can respond, Mick makes his way back over, four full pint glasses clutched tightly in his hands. He sets them down on the table, the motion sending lager foam dripping over the edges and onto the wood beneath.

“Lana mentioned you’d be dropping in,” Mick says, sliding a glass across to her, a trail of moisture spreading across the tabletop in its wake, “so I got you a pint.”

“Thanks,” she says with a tight smile, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a deep sip, focusing on how the bitter bubbles fizz against her tongue.

“Any time, gorgeous,” he fires back with a wink, and she grimaces, feeling as though she’ll bring the beer back up that she’s just swallowed.

She’s grateful when he takes a seat next to John and the two fall into conversation, leaving her and Lana to catch up. They talk about work and Lana’s excitement over Thom finally asking her to move in with him. It’s nice to be around her best friend again, how easily they slot back into place as though no time has passed. She feels guilty for not having made more time for Lana, being secretly kept preoccupied by Billy.

As if on cue, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her bag, seeing a text from him flash up on the screen. “were r u??”

She sighs, realising he’s likely turned up at her flat and seen she’s not home. It’s tempting to ignore him, considering he’s left her hanging for the last week, but she knows Billy, knows what he’s like, he’ll spiral if he doesn’t hear from her.

“At the pub.” She replies, then sends “With your sister.” as an afterthought, hoping it will deter him from turning up.

Putting her phone away, she continues drinking her pint and chatting with Lana, until Lana’s eyes move towards the door, brows raising in surprise.

“Here comes trouble,” she says, before taking a drink.

She turns, heart sinking as she sees Billy making his way unsteadily towards their table. His eyes are glazed, a pinkish hue is dusted across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, the telltale signs he’s been drinking.

Mick looks up, raising his pint in greeting. “Billy! I’d offer you a drink, but I’ve not long gotten a round in. You can afford to get your own, right?”

“Mick, leave it,” Lana grits out, eyes narrowed.

“Sit down, Billy,” she says gently, pulling out the seat next to hers, “I’ll get you one.”

“I don’t need you!” He snaps, nostrils flaring and brow furrowing.

She flinches back, feeling her throat tighten, lowering her gaze to hide the hurt she feels.

Billy softens, shoulders sagging with shame, averting his own eyes. “Don’t need you to get me a drink,” he says quietly, “can get my own.”

She watches him weave through the crowded pub towards the bar, anxiety forming a pit within her stomach.

“Fuck’s sake,” she hears Lana mutter under her breath, turning to her. “I’m so sorry, had no idea he’d turn up.”

I did, she thinks to herself, but offers her friend a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Billy’s pint is already half drunk by the time he makes his way back to their table. He sets the glass heavily down on its surface, before slumping in the seat next to hers, fingers fidgeting with a beer mat.

“Still not working then, Billy?” Mick asks and she has to fight the urge to tell him to shut up, her grip tightening around the condensation coated outside of her pint glass.

“Starting an apprenticeship in two weeks, actually,” he says, shooting him a sideways glance, fingers continuing to spin the beer mat.

What? Why hadn’t he told her?

Her eyes widen in surprise, mouth opening to ask about it, closing it again upon realising it’s not her place, not publicly anyway. Thankfully, Lana is quick to step in.

“That’s brilliant news! Doing what?”

“Car mechanics,” Billy says. “Bloke at the JobCentre sorted me out with it, I start in two weeks.”

“Wow,” Lana says with a genuine smile, “I’m dead pleased for you, mate, know how much you enjoyed doing up your old Vauxhall.”

Billy nods, tapping the edge of the beer mat against the table, not looking directly at anyone. “Yeah, should hopefully have a job by the end of it.”

She takes a mouthful of lager, swirling it over her tongue, trying to distract herself from the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She’s pleased for Billy, it would be cruel not to be, but she can’t deny the hurt she feels that this isn’t something he felt was worth sharing with her.

“Let’s hope this sticks, eh, mate?” Mick says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Billy asks with a scowl.

Mick shrugs casually. “Seems like a good opportunity, would hate to see it go the same way as all your attempts to join the army.”

“Let’s keep it friendly, shall we?” John says uncomfortably, but is ignored by Mick.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, “hope another group of terrorists doesn’t come along and distract him. They teach you how to look for bombs while you’re fixing up the cars at this apprenticeship?”

“I said enough!” Lana shouts, slamming her pint glass down, eyes wide with fury.

The pub goes eerily silent, the Oasis song that’s playing on the jukebox and the scrape of Billy’s chair legs on the flagstone flooring are the only audible sounds as he stands abruptly, tossing the beer mat he’d been fiddling with onto the table.

“Going out for a fag,” he says sullenly, the chatter of surrounding tables gradually becoming louder as the shock of the sudden outburst wears of.

Billy walks out of the pub, head bowed, and she watches him go, her heart aching for him.

“Erm…think I’ll join him, actually,” she tells Lana, turning towards her, “could do with a smoke anyway. I’ll see if he’s alright.”

“Appreciate that, thank you,” Lana says, giving her hand a squeeze. “Think Mick and I need to have a little chat anyway,” her tone is suddenly stern, her gaze dark as she turns to face the man opposite her.

She nods, slipping her jacket back on and heads outside.

The shock of the cold night air hitting her skin causes her to draw in a sharp breath. It’s still damp outside and she worries that Billy might have gone home when she can’t immediately see him. It’s not until she walks along the road a short distance that she spots the glow of the end of a lit cigarette down an alleyway, the reddish hue dully illuminating Billy’s sharp features.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walks towards him. “You should ignore Mick,” she says softly, standing in front of him, “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Billy exhales a plume of smoke, a hint of a sneer on his face as he draws his head back, staring at her through narrowed eyes. “Seems like he had the right of it to me. I’m a fuck up and almost got myself killed because of it.”

“You’re not, Billy,” she reassures him, “you were in a bad place. Those scumbags took advantage. Mick only takes the piss because he knows if he was in your position he wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He sniffs, scowling slightly as he takes another drag, and she shifts from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for him to say something, anything.

She sighs when it becomes apparent he won’t, silently exhaling smoke, his brooding silence too much for her to bear. “Why didn’t you tell me about the apprenticeship?”

Billy swallows thickly, staring down at his trainers. “I was gonna, but then…then Becky text me.”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to get out, her skin growing heated despite how cold it is, as her heart lurches with painful jealousy.

She takes an involuntary step back, but Billy is quick to advance towards her, his free hand reaching for her. “No, not like that!” He says hastily. “I dunno what she wanted, actually. Messaged to ask how I was and I told her I was with you and not to contact me again.”

Her stomach flutters at his words.

Told her I was with you.

She can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “And then what?”

“Then she said it wouldn’t last, she couldn’t imagine why someone like you would wanna be with someone like me.”

“And you believed her?”

He chucks his cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it underfoot. “I followed my therapist’s advice; cut ties with people who force you to question your self worth - blocked her number.”

Pride swells in her chest at his words and she reaches for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“But it got me thinking,” he continues, “you deserve better than a few secret shags with your best mate’s waster brother.”

Her brow furrows, sadness making her feel heavy. “Is that why you’ve avoided me all week?”

Billy nods. “Yeah, just sorta wondered what the point of it all is, we have to keep it a secret anyway, and I’m just gonna fuck it up, same as I’ll do with this apprenticeship.”

She reaches up, cupping his face, fingers stroking over the scruff of his jawline, which is in desperate need of a shave. “Billy, it was your decision to keep us a secret. I’d tell everyone, given the choice. I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

His hands grasp her wrists, thumbs stroking the soft skin on the undersides. “Really?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper as he looks at her hopefully.

Leaning up, she kisses his lips, quick and chaste. “Really. Billy, you’re so good,” she leans up again, pressing her mouth to his more firmly, for longer, savouring the feeling of him kissing her back.

“So good to me,” she whispers, trailing her lips along his jaw and over his neck, smiling as she feels him shudder, his long fingers threading themselves into her hair.

“I’m so proud to be with you,” she tells him, sucking at his pulsepoint, earning a groan, which she feels the rumble of through his chest.

She reaches down, palming him through his jogging bottoms, feeling the rapid hardening of his cock through the cotton. “You’re gonna do so well at your apprenticeship, show everyone else just how good you are.”

His jaw goes slack, his grip on her hair tightening as he pulls her in for another kiss. It’s deep and heated, his breathing rapid as he tongue works against hers. He tastes of tobacco and Carling, yet to her there has never been anything more addictive.

Pulling away, his hands slip from her hair as she drops to her knees in front of him, not caring how the dampness of the concrete soaks into the material of her jeans.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks, lips parted in shock as he watches her tug at the waistband of his joggers and boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his erection. “Someone could see!”

“Then let them see, Billy,” she whispers huskily, eyes flitting up momentarily to meet the ocean blue wideness of his. “I told you I’m not ashamed to be with you.”

She licks the flushed pink tip of him, humming appreciatively at the sharp taste, grinning to herself as Billy hisses through his teeth, eyes screwed shut.

“Tastes so good,” she coos up at him, reveling in the sigh of the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he twitches against her palm.

Opening her mouth, she envelopes the length of him in its wet warmth, hollowing her cheeks as she bobs her head back and forth.

“Oh…fuck!” Billy all but chokes out, and she moans around him, speeding up her movements, pulling back each time the head of him knocks the back of her throat, stroking her hand up and down the base in tandem.

It is risky to do this so publicly, and yet it adds to the thrill; on her knees in a darkened alleyway for her man, showing him exactly what he’s worth, what he means to her.

Her core throbs with arousal, her movements becoming sloppy as Billy cups the back of her head, muscles tensing and his breathing becoming ragged. She can feel the tang of pre-cum against her tongue and knows he won’t last much longer.

She whines when he grips her hair, pulling her off of him and dragging his trousers back up.

“Why’d you do that? You were about to cum,” she huffs, rising to her feet.

“Exactly,” he says with a shrug, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and guiding her out of the alley. “Wanna be inside you when I do that though, and I’d much rather be back at my girlfriend’s place to do that than down a fucking alley.”

She grins, wrapping an arm around his waist as they walk home.

Girlfriend.

She likes the sound of that.

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #billy washington angst #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fan fic #billy washington fanfic #trigger point

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genderkoolaid · 3 months

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is it weird to feel like i was still treated/classed as a faggot before even knowing i was a boy (i'm transmasc)? i was never called a dyke or derisively called a lesbian or any of that. but i was a tomboy, always was. and i was always heavily derided for crying or "being a crybaby," derided by boy and tomboy friends if i ever liked any Girly Things with comments like "that's so gay (derogatory)", and being masculine but still interested in boys was regarded as this weird and disgusting thing. it's like being a tomboy and, for at least for a part of my life that being accepted, i had this expectation of masculinity placed on me that led to me being castigated by my peers for stepping outside it.

there were still expectations placed on me for "being a girl" and i was punished for not doing that correctly and i experienced heaps of misogyny, but there are so many instances in my life where i was specifically punished for being a tomboy who wasn't masculine in the right way but instead in a gay way. i never felt targeted by anti-lesbian sentiment but always felt very heavily targeted by anti-gay man sentiment. but despite desiring my whole life to be a boy i didn't truly know and accept that i was one until i was 18 and didn't start living as a man until i was 20

idk man my experience with gender growing up was always so weird and confusing and people's assumptions about what i Must Have Experienced based on agab and identity are always incorrect and it's just so incredibly alienating.

I've heard things very similar to this from a lot of trans(+) people. I myself have been out since I was very young and spent the majority of my life openly (gender)queer which definitely shaped how I experienced gender socialization.

This is the problem with using socialization as a Gender Binary 2: Its Inclusive Now! While there are broad trends, people can have such wildly different relationships with gender. Some trans people have always felt targeted based on their assigned sex, some people have always felt targeted based on their gender identity, some people have felt both.

The thing about the patriarchy is that it's a liar and you should never trust anything it says. The patriarchy claims to be a strict gendersex binary for control purposes, but it also must grapple with the existence of queers (gays, trannys, intersex folks) whose existence proves that what it claims to be natural is constructed. Because the ways in which misogyny and transphobia actually function are not tied down by any logic other than "stay in control." Demonizing queer&trans+ people for being "monstrous" for blurring the boundaries between (cishet) men and (cishet) women is like, alongside misogyny, a core part of how gender oppression works. Whenever people expect us to have the exact same experiences as cis people, whether based on gender identity or agab or socialization, they are trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

#m.#ask box

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veliseraptor · 2 months

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Top five spiciest untamed opinions!

man, I've been in my own little corner of fandom for long enough that I feel like I struggle a little to parse what is spicy of my opinions and what isn't, but here's a go at it

The Untamed is a show with complex, morally grey characters that's telling a slightly different but not inherently inferior story. Maybe I'm just a bit defensive about this, and I have with time come to appreciate a lot of things about the novel over the way they play out in the show, but The Untamed was the first version of the story that I fell in love with and I think at least some of the criticisms of it overstate the degree to which it morally simplifies the story. I think, whether because of requirements of censorship or other reasons, that the moral messiness of the story is subtler, I don't think it's absent, and while Jin Guangyao in particular falls victim to a pretty intense villain edit the narrative still has plenty of sympathy for him (even if the audience, all too often, does not). I think it's telling a slightly different story (as others have discussed), but I think it's a strong adaptation that still works with the underlying themes of the text.

However, that being said, The lessening of Wei Wuxian's culpability, as in the introduction of the second flautist, weakens his character. I feel like the character of Wei Wuxian as we see him in The Untamed still has the recognizable flaws of the character from the novel - I think the degree to which they're sometimes claimed to be toned down is overstated, which I think I've written some about before. He's still at least a little arrogant, causes problems, has a definite temper, and doesn't always respect other peoples' choices, among other things. But what The Untamed does do is remove some of his culpability, or at least temper it - both for Jin Zixuan's death and the massacre at Nightless City, which are two moments that contribute to a strong tragic arc in the first life, which makes for a more powerful (imo) arc in the second life. Removing, or at least lessening, Wei Wuxian's culpability for Jin Zixuan's death and Jiang Yanli's death makes him more a victim of circumstance than of his own human flaws, and at least for me, a character who is doomed by their own flaws is a far more compelling one than one who just happens to fall victim to outside forces. It makes him, I would argue, more passive and less of an active force, and I think the culpability for those two deaths - and the loss of control that causes it - makes for a more powerful narrative than that of a man who is victimized by someone else's actions.

Jin Guangyao was a good Chief Cultivator. I see people talk about him as though he was corrupt and evil and just plotting all the time, but the Bad Things™ he does mostly happen before his tenure as Chief Cultivator and, even taking those into account, have a limited impact on the world at large (with the exception of Nie Mingjue's death, but even that I would argue has more personal repercussions than broader political ones). As far as his responsibility for the cultivation world at large, we have no evidence prior to his downfall that he is negatively perceived by people, except for the fact of his birth/origins.

this is more MDZS-related than Untamed specific, but: MXTX deserves praise for writing "problematic" and messy queer sex, but it's just not hot. I don't have a whole lot to add on this one, but one of my least favorite parts of some corners of The Untamed fandom are people who are thoroughgoing MXTX antis who are quick to cry about the ~problematic~ aspects of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's sex life (which, honestly, I think are overstated a lot of the time, as is the weirdness of the sex scenes); however, in my opinion, the sex scenes as they stand just aren't very sexy, and I don't think that's intentional (as it arguably is in SVSSS). The sex scenes may be a shortcoming in the text, perhaps, but not the one certain people think it is.

this is again a stronger argument in the novel but I think it's present in the show as well: Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian are "there but for the grace of god" foils, but not in the sense of Jin Guangyao being "Wei Wuxian if he made bad moral choices" but in the sense of "who Wei Wuxian could've been if his circumstances were different." I've definitely written about this before and how much it drives me nuts the way people treat narrative foils in this story in general as Goofus and Gallant style duos, but this is a specific one. I think Jin Guangyao is an example of a story that runs alongside Wei Wuxian's, but ends in a different place, and I think the story isn't saying that he ends in that place because of something inherently worse about Jin Guangyao, but because of the way his circumstances happen to diverge from Wei Wuxian's in specific key ways. In some ways his ending is even a near beat-for-beat rewrite of Wei Wuxian's death, and Wei Wuxian receives the grace of a second life not because of any inherent merit, but actually because of his bad reputation. I think this goes for Xue Yang, too, actually.

I absolutely know I'm forgetting things and there are probably things back in my bitchy opinions tag that I could dig out, but here's at least a few that came to mind.

#conversating #maester of spreadsheets #lise has opinions #none of these feel so bitchy they need to go in the bitchy opinions tag but just in case i think i'll #lise's aggressively bitchy opinions about irrelevant and unimportant matters #lise memes #top five meme #the sad queer cultivators show

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roadhogsbigbelly · 4 months

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ok i didn't really want to do this because i deleted the original posts when it had only 70 notes because i was under the assumption noone would see it but t/xttletale ended up reblogging it anyway and now i have people telling me to kill myself in my inbox so i guess i might as well give details

honestly did not know she was trans until people accused me of pedojacking her, for some reason it never registered because i guess i only see her blog when her posts pop up on my feed but you know my bad i guess

2)yes it's true the term "loliporn" never shows up but someone does say "don't say you're pro-kink and nasty gay sex if you're not supportive of ageplay, cnc, or incest shipping" and than she said "yes, and" which like. seems slightly like an endorsement? but i assume that loliporn was just kind of included with the package, because i do have evidence that toonimal would not be against that

3) i never directly called her a pedophile just that it's really fucking bizzare to have that hot take about "wholesome games" when you agreed with a take that said not liking incest porn or ageplay is "anti-kink or whatever

now did initially censor the names in the post because of reasons i'll explain later but i did realize with no context it looks like both posts were from the same person so i did end up mentioning in the tags that there were two different people before later deleting it all together. but i honestly don't feel THAT bad attributing it to her because she did both reblog the post and than also add on to it, which kind of negates the possibility she didn't fully read the post? still i did censor it again for reasons i'll explain later.

4) i kind of went out of my way to not attribute anything to her. when i talked about her weird stardew valley take i still censored them, because after being told to kill myself for having a lukewarm hot take on sex work last year i usually always censor posts when criticizng/making fun of them. i'm honestly surprised she managed to find it because i deleted it when it only had like 60 notes, and the only reason i found out she found it is because one of her followers sent be an ask telling me to kill myself. and out of curiousity i checked her blog.

i deleted this post before i post this just so her follower doesn't get harassed or whatever. but you know. not fun.

and 5) while i insist i didn't directly accuse her of being a pedophile i DID in fact accuse the person she was agreeing with of being a pedohpile. cause they are.

i'm not going to post the entire callout post cause it's honestly really fucking gross but tldr they run a "contact positive paraphilia forum" which is a basicly code for "actually fucking pedophiles" which kind of recontextualizes they entire post right? that's also why i went out of my way to censor txttletale's name and than later specify there were two different people before deleting it. because i assumed she didn't know the person she was agreeing with was an actual pedophile, but accidently agreeing with a pedophile is uh. not good. i think, someone actually informed her that toonimals was a pedophilia and she said this.

now i'm not saying you have to do a background check on every person you reblog from but if that post talks about "how pro-sex freak people need to be more supportive of people who are into incest" than actually yeah you do sort of have an obligation to make sure they aren't an actual fucking pedophile. the entire basis of that post is "people should stop being mean to actual sex freaks" and you not only reblog it but add onto that yeah that's a fucking issue because 99 percent of time the people who make those posts ARE actual fucking pedophiles, so yeah you probably should be a bit wary. because like.

this is my issue, i don't think you're a pedophile because you don't think there's anything wrong with fiction/sex acts that depict immoral things, my issue is that that logic is used and agreed upon by actual pedophiles. pedophiles are agreeing with you! that's not great! there's my issue with your logic!

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nomercifulpercival · 2 years

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taking my tags from a different post and posting them because i do be having A Lot To Say

the thing about current discussions about censorship on ao3, and antis willfully or uncritically claiming that people who dont want censorship are just ‘pedophiles’, is that they are missing the whole goddamn point.

whatever you personally choose to read, if we allow censorship to take hold on ao3 eventually your preferred fic will be eroded.

to demonstrate i present,

Things Antis Have Claimed Are Problematic and Should Be Banned:

the omegaverse - either for fetishising trans people or introducing hetero dynamics into queer relationships

chidhood friends to lovers - for sexualising children's friendships or shipping 'sibling coded' characters

age gaps between adults - from age gaps of like 40 years to age gaps of like six years (looks hard at anti-sheiths)

furries/anthro - because ‘bestiality’

enemies to lovers - for 'romanticising abuse'

any exploration of unhealthy dynamics done in a way that isnt simply 'one person is the victim and escapes their abuser'.

mutually unhealthy relationships. power dynamics such as teacher/student or boss/employee that would be unhealthy or immoral irl.

vent fiction that explicitly describes the writer's trauma - they claim people should just go to therapy instead of processing their trauma through fiction and sharing it online. (The Reality of This: i go to therapy - my therapist encourages vent fiction - i post vent fiction - i get told to die - rinse and repeat)

noncon fics that are written as erotica - i really need to impress upon antis that some people have noncon kinks! it’s not even that rare, according to one study, 62% of women admitted to fantasizing about being forced to have sex. IRL they probably explore this via consensual non consent or simply by fantasizing, and in fiction you can read about eroticised non con, get your jollies and it hurts no one in real life.

The thing about banning ANY of these things is that everyone will have different opinions of what is 'moral' or 'ok to write about'. Everyone will have different boundaries and triggers and squicks. AO3 allows you to ACTIVELY AVOID things that squick you

(and before anyone says ‘I’ve seen these things untagged’ - the AO3 rules require works to either be tagged with the relevant warning (Underage/NonCon/Graphic Violence) or ‘Author chose not to use archive warnings’. you can report improperly tagged works; they are literally against AO3s rules)

so truly the best option to keep works you like protected on AO3 is to accept that people will be writing weird shit on the internet, but you actively do not have to see it. Because otherwise they WILL ban YOUR weird shit.

*points aggressively at FFNet*

#let he who reads fanfiction without sin throw the first stone #ao3 #needed this off my chest #proship #fandom #fandom wank #(does it reveal my age that i still think of this as wank and not discourse?)#archive of our own

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grammarpedant · 10 months

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all power to the barbie movie's PR team or some such, but I strongly dislike it when a fictional character is called asexual because they "don't have reproductive organs" or "the biology for sex" or a sex drive or whatever. asexual because they're a doll or a robot or an alien or otherwise inhuman. maybe as a trans person I'm just sensitive to the bioessentialism, but I promise you that not only do many real-life asexuals have perfectly functioning reproductory and endocrine systems and still neither experience sexual attraction nor want to fuck, but there are also PLENTY of people who don't have "the equipment" or who otherwise have low sex drives who absolutely manage to be horny as hell. allo paraplegics make it work. and even if they didn't, or couldn't, a lack of sex organs or hormones is not the sole defining feature of one's orientation. there are kinky aces, aces who get horny without wanting anyone in particular, as well as allos who want to get it up but can't. their biology doesn't define their attraction or desire or orientation or identity.

not to say there aren't people whose orientations don't change over time, of course, or who attribute their orientation to a specific cause (e.g. physical or psychological trauma, meds, surgery). but to imply that one's biology must result in one's orientation (and the attendant implication that if one's biology could be changed it could Fix Your Queerness), is something I'm strongly, strongly at odds with. It's a weird intersection of anti-queerness and disregard for disabled experiences, imo.

anyway this is all to say that if you think a robot or doll or an asexually-reproducing alien character COULDN'T be horny, you're an idiot with no imagination who's not even managing to respect asexuality with it. i can think of a hundred ways to be horny without genitals, easy as breathing, I'm a certified robotfucker, get on my level. nonhumanity doesn't mean asexual, because sex isn't what makes us human. asexuality as an orientation isn't merely biology, neither is sex for that matter, and respecting the ace robots who DON'T want to fuck means respecting the robots who DO.

#verso talks #disc horse #aphobia cw #acephobia cw #asexuality #to be clear i agree that barbie should be and effectively is asexual and an ace icon #but i disagree with the notion that she's like that because she's a doll #ableism cw #disability rights #disability pride month

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ofbreathandflame · 11 months

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im sorry im breaking my anti fast for this bc its literally the most idiotic thing i have ever seen.

"some people hate sjm for the racism in her books"

yeah NO SHIT.

that has always been the point.

thats literally the entire point of being anti sjm posts. thats literally all we talk about in the anti tags. but shortsightedness and an unhealthy relationship with these characters has always blinded y'all to that fact.

you see this is why i could not stomach conversations because you guys constantly make a mockery of the problems in sjm's work and only acknowledge the problems for a 'gotcha' moment. EVERY SINGLE TIME we have talked about how the racism in sjm's work affects the writing of her characters you guys have made it into an anti feysand problem, and by doing that you have willingly separated yourself from the problems in the story. the reality is that the racism affects the way these characters are written -- including your favs. do not dare twist the main message of antis to fit some twisted little point you want to make toward specific blogs. i have been on my last account for over two years and EVERY TIME i -- or any anti -- has talked about the way sjm's racism bleeds onto the text we have been undermine, ran off our blogs, sent hate mail. so yeah it pisses me off to no end to be sent the dumbest post in the anti tags to ever exist. yall do not care about her racism, her misogynoir. if you did, you wouldn't be calling people brain dead for daring to dislike your favorite ship for valid reason -- i.e. the racism. we talked about the complexities of how racist the portrayal of the illyrians were -- and we were dismissed as anti feysand and therefore 'braindead.' we talked about the way women of color and the allusions of FGM (female genital mutilation)-- and we were called anti feysands and then dismissed. stay out of the anti tags -- especially if you are the ones perpetuating these dynamics. i was ran off my blog for discussing these issues for two years. y'all sent hate mail, called me tamlin stan -- called others tamlin stans -- for even daring to discuss the racism in sjm works. that's not even touching the nehemia situation, or crescent city. fuck off the tags. you literally have a blog dedicated to this woman and her racist ass characters, you shoot down any criticism of them because of it, and then yall have the nerve to come into the tags for the some hehe hahah tamlin stan bs??? double fuck off. the anti sjm tag has always been a place for that criticism. always.

addition: and these problems are not just valid when discussing characters you don't like. the illyrians are written to brutes, with the bat boys operating as the 'model minority'. the story justifies the lack of infrastructure, and the misogyny (misogynoir depending on how you classify illyrian women), the lack of progress.

'its a culture problem'

'rhysand has tried, but they wont listen'

like do you know how crazy it is to write a group of people as permanently mentally stunted? to classify their women as nameless entities that our main character can shift in and out of to satisfy her supposed 'man of color' sexually? feyre cosplays as a woman of color for SEX, meanwhile in FIVE BOOKS we've met one named illyrian woman and shes described 'interesting,' but not as pretty as opposed to nesta and gwyn, mor, and feyre who are the prettiest people to walk the earth. that don't sound CRAZY to yall??? these people of color are left without leadership, without infrastructure, no access to a golden city, no access to their high lord, are forced to breed out warriors who live and die without ever getting to enjoy the city of velaris, the house of wind for survivors. all of that so that the maincharacters can live out that power fantasy. its racist. thats what it is. please think consider reading comprehension b4 yall make these gotcha posts because it really stinks of weirdness.

the illyrians are treated like rabid animals by their leaders, by everyone and then the responsibility is on them to somehow progress when everyone is unwilling to give them nothing more than scraps. like there's a real life counterpart to this, and yall arguments are very real and very damaging.

they are written by the author to be a permanent second class deserving of their position because they're minds somehow cannot comprehend any 'progression.' all of these characters including rhysand, feyre, mor, az, cassian, tamlin, nesta say racist things toward them because THE NARRATIVE thinks they're justified in saying them. like the moralizing is wild in this case bc all of them are allowed to get away with it. its not just tamlin or nesta, not just the valkyries (which is an ENTIRELY different scenario btw). like the idea that all of the bad can be ascribed to the 'bad' characters and the 'good' characters somehow don't feed into those racist tropes is WILD. rhysand literally told us -- the reader -- the in the war against slaves and their oppressors somehow it was an equal battle. like?????? somehow 'both sides were at fault' ignoring that one side WAS LITERALLY SLAVES. like can u imagine if someone looked at the Haitian revolution and was like....yeah the side of the oppressors was somehow on equal footing when the other side WAS ENSLAVED? how can u acknowledge this author is racist and then pretend that the racism only bleeds over to the characters you *shockingly* don't like?? yes -- there is a problem with feyre wearing illyrian wings BECAUSE SHES THE HIGH LADY. she made herself that title. of course that carries a different weight. the racism is ingrained in the text, not just some little trinket to flash when you want to moralize bullying a small group of people with strawman arguments.

#anti sjm #anon girl im BLEW FOR YOU #like imagine trying to chastise the community that was literally BUILT to critique the problems #and for what????#a gotcha to the tamlin stans that don't even exist???#yall are arguing with air #like i literally just had to delete my blog for this stuff and here yall are #in the tags kekeing like people havent been bullied for it #like yall are the champions for adversity \#when yall are the ones propagating the nonsense to begin #ew ew #bc then its 'how could you not like feysand'#idk BC OF THOSE PROBLEMS #like did you think the author's bias was NOT going to factor into the way the characters are written?#it became 'pro tamlin this' pro nesta that #like the illyrians are r*cist to the T #and that was ignored for the sake of feysand #yall are real irra #but at least i know that yall understand the problems in these stories #yall just dont care #anti feysand #when we talked about the feyre wing situation yall went out of your way to mock it

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righthandarm-man · 8 months

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I think we as a culture need to be way less weird about porn, nudes, and sex work or we're just going cease to function. Like at this point, most people of legal age have a naked picture of themselves somewhere in the ether, and while anti-revenge porn laws are great and necessary, we have to stop treating every nude photo and onlyfans account as grounds for a scandal (especially when the subjects are women)

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autolenaphilia · 7 months

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Sinfest by Tatsuya Ishida is so fascinating to me, like it's one person mental decline over a period of decades in a webcomic form. Like the political evolution over the years is insane. Ishida started out as a fairly normal liberal dude, who reacted to Bush-era christian conservatism with sex-positive edgelording. He depicted Obama as over-the-top cool in a way that felt only half-ironic. Ironically in light of his later politics, he also had some caricatures of man- and sex-hating feminists. It wasn't really a heavily political strip either, there were character-based stories.

And then in the 2010s Ishida had a weird conversion to radical feminism. This took over the comic, and it became extremely political in a strident and unsubtle way.

It started out with a heavy focus on SWERF and anti-porn stuff, and there are some porn addiction arcs that it's easy to read autobiographically. Like you get the impression Ishida thinks he has a porn addiction and feels really bad about it, and radical feminism felt like an easier outlet for his feelings about it than the religion he had mocked so much before. He had drawn man-hating sex negative caricatures of feminists before, and that's ironically the exact kind of feminist he decided to become.

And how it depicts male consumption of porn is telling. Like porn is bad, but men are compelled to consume it and can never stop, because men are all irredeemably horny misogynists. It feels like a expression of self-hatred. Sinfest became a vehicle for unsubtle caustic moralistic invective, but it always seem to spill back on Ishida himself.

Ishida is heavy on the performative man-hating that male radfems usually aren't. And his main mouthpiece character during this phase is a lesbian woman.

Ishida's depiction of porn and sex work also consistently feels off, like the victims of the sex trade are drawn too sexy to really work as anti-porn. The sex workers in the comic are also literally sex robots, but clearly meant to stand in for real life human sex workers. It's very condescending.

It took a few years before Ishida fully revealed his transmisogyny. And since then it has increasingly dominated the comic. Extremely transmisogynist caricatures of transfems everywhere. Like every online transmisogynist, it has become an obsession for Ishida. And it's weird, like he has this obsession with drawing girlbulge on his transmisogynist caricatures that feels downright fetishistic.

Like I'm not usually like "transmisogynists are rotten eggs", but honestly Ishida feels like that might be true. The lesbian author stand-in, the self-hatred that extends to men as a gender, the obsessive transmisogyny. Reading Sinfest there feels like there is something deeply wrong with Ishida. He is not just a bigot, but feels deeply disturbed. And a case of extreme internalized transmisogyny and repression is as good an explanation as any.

Ishida has however gotten worse, and zoomed down the terf-to-fascist pipeline. The comic has evolved from terfy to full-on MAGA fascist. His transmisogyny has guided Ishida to darker and darker territory. There is an comic where his lesbian mouthpiece character abandons the left precisely because the left accepts trans people. He is now an anti-vaxxer and covid denialist of course, and his literal in-comic reason for distrusting vaccines is that medical scientists also favor trans healthcare.

Most recently Ishida has done an anti-immigration arc, where immigrants are depicted as evil alien invaders from pop culture. And that illustrates how self-defeating and ironic his views are. He is literally condemning immigration as an American man named Tatsuya Ishida.

Lesbian radfems beset by porn culture and the tranny menace no longer play a large part in modern Sinfest. His heroes are now redneck magahats, depicted as unfairly prosecuted by far-left cancel culture. And he seems entirely okay with their social conservatism, a right-wing redneck family has a housewife, and its depicted as okay.

By now he has done a full 180 over the last 20 years. The right-wing conservatives who he mocked in the 00s, are now his heroes.

The recurring characters and the storylines based around them are barely there, it's all political commentary at this point. When the old characters appear it's usually as props in his heavy-handed commentary.

Sinfest was never a great comic even at its 00s peak, but it was a normal comic. Now it's just a sad record of one person's mental and political decline.

#sinfest #tatsuya ishida #my writings

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olderthannetfic · 2 months

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DWRP is more active than regular fandom DreamWidth, but it's full of people who are anti-queer in the weirdest ways. They're queer, but they use words like "transtrender" and "fujoshit" and "asexies". They hate how prominent slash is in DWRP but bash people who play female characters as playing self-inserts/playing Mary Sues and decry female characters who have sex as "cock-hops". Playing a lesbian or bi woman is equated to being a 40 year old guy who jerks it to lesbian porn and reveals "neckbeard qualities", even if you're an out lesbian yourself. NB people are regularly mocked on both Plurk and in anon communities as "thembys" and "genderspecials".

DWRP has also slowed down hugely in the last 5 years, with many major games closing and most new games not lasting half a year. I once accidentally started wank when I said I don't consider someone who only replies to 2 comments or less a month a roleplayer, and people rushed in to argue that we're all just too busy to reply to more than that many comments and the only way you have more time than that is if you're a NEET. Play non-white non-anime characters and you're a SJW trying too hard to be "woke". Autistic is used as an insult fairly often.

Which is another facet of DWRP to consider: the weird hatred of other DWRPers everyone in DWRP has. You're a NEET, a neckbeard, a basement dweller, a wage cuck, a fast food cuck, etc. The anon gossip communities get way, way more activity per day than any of the actual game communities do. Gossip about people regularly runs dry, so instead discussion is rehashed of people who were subjects of previous wank/gossip, sometimes including people who played during the LJ era and never played on DreamWidth because they left when the mass migration to DW happened. I have seen people get accused of being another player who was the subject of wank returning for having the same given name as someone who was the subject of wank circa 2006. People are that level of desperate to get some excitement going among their small circle of friends who want there to be A Big Deal (TM) of some kind going on.

Fandom DW is far from perfect but I would highly recommend, even if you're bored, sticking to it and not DWRP. RP on there is a much more conservative (but identifying as "centrist", for some reason) environment and if you're reading this blog, my guess is you don't think trans headcanons are the work of transtrenders woke-ifying fandom and it's not gross neckbeard behavior for a lesbian to write a lesbian character. If so, this is definitely not your scene.

Activity is not the same thing as a fandom place being good.

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dairy-farmer · 12 days

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More Cult's of Gotham nonsense! You know what happens when you let unsupervised tots wander around Rich Folks area Gotham in the dead of night? They stumble into old Weird Shit that some kinky dead Rich Folks left over! Like sex cults!

It was a fad!

And it may have been brief, but that MAGIC sure lingered! Whoops! Lack of street lights and recent rain? Mean one Timmy falling through a dirt ceiling into a Suspect Magic Circle(tm)!

He has Succubus Powers now.

The cost? Succubus dietary needs. Also he has hit puberty yet and is pretty sure he's Trans. He did not WANT the Succubus powers, creepy dead people! But here he is. With them.

The extra durability and extreme flexibility are nice. Food being basicly a "I mean, if you FEEL like it" sort of thing? Not great! He's HUNGRY. Luckily? Prostitutes. He can sit on the roof and... eat? He guesses? Not very filling, but it works.

Then! Jason is dead! D:>

The dramatics that follow! Bruce is a DICK but Tim's durability means no broken Timmy bones. But also... he never stays for dinner, dispite Alfred hinting he should. Goes of patrol route sometimes for odd "vantage points". Bruce notices him going BACK into the city, once or twice.

Eventually? He can't ignore Tim any longer. Has come to care for the Doll like little Robin. Obviously, he figures Tim's haunts out immediately. But why? Is he going there? It's clearly not to spy. Hmmmm...

He "accidentally" leaves the Bat computer unlocked.

Tim hasn't learned enough yet to spot the obvious trap. He takes his chance to look up anyone with Sex powers like him, how they feed. Bruce watching as he grows more despairing and frustrated with every Villainous match. Bruce is a Detective. He can put two and two together.

His dietary plans go right out the window. New concern. Pervs molesting his Robin. Or his Robin STARVING. Luckily? Brucie is hot shit. Gala time. But first, lessons on spotting obvious traps.

Tim gets dragged to Gala after party after swanky yacht get together. Rooms picked ahead of time. Tim hiding under desks as Bruce fucks someone onto of them. Snuck under the couch, as Bruce fucks a socialite against the wall right next to it. In the dresser, as Bruce and his conquest take the bed.

Tim most certainly does not go hungry.

But the longer this goes on? The more AWARE Bruce is of him. His little listener. His back up. His Robin. Is he watching through the cracks? Enjoying what he hears? Is it making him wet? Squirm and wish he could do something about it? Is he fantasizing it's him out here, under Bruce?

Bruce bets he would feel so good. Tight and perfect. Take him so WELL.

Bruce is trying very, very hard not to think about it.

Failing.

His fantasies getting filthier. His lust stronger. But he controls it. He DOES. Until some knock off Pollen nearly kills him. Doesn't respond AT ALL to their anti-agent. And Tim... magnificent, perfect boy that he is... is awkwardly, sloppily, taking him right to the root. He barely stops from bucking.

It's perfection.

He has to guide him through it. Teach him what make him feel good. God, he learns so FAST. Bruce is almost delirious by the time Tim scrambles into his lap. Balances carefully and starts to work his way down. He rolls them both forward and help him. Rutts and pants as works himself DEEP.

Tim is perfect for him.

And really, after that? Why bother with substitutes? When Bruce can feed him directly? Morning and night. Every, single, day. Pumping loads nice and deep, over and over, until he whines he feels like he'll burst. The a few more, because Bruce truelly can't resist. Tim needs to eat after all.

He's a growing boy.

-🐼🐼🐼

succubus tim is SO fascinating because tim is, unlike the other bats, not so deeply interested in sex- when he's propositioned by his first girlfriend he refuses and says its because they're young and that ariana is sort of vulnerable at the moment and doesn't really mean it. but this is a thing that happens over again for him whereas dick and bruce will frequently fuck people they're attracted to or have some running storyline in their comics over a girl they work with/are sleeping with/ etc. i mean even jason gets plot lines that are about how he fucks- but tim? not so much.

so HIM being a succubus out of all of them presents a really interesting scenario where he HAS to have sex or be near it in order to survive, where he's biologically compelled to seek it out, where (since its part of his being) he has an other worldly advantage over it because evolutionary speaking tim being so good that his prey keep coming back to him makes perfect sense.

but bruce trying to figure out solutions and help tim while avoiding letting anyone know or touch him and landing on forming a voyeuristic relationship with tim so he can get fed! hiding him in the room and choosing out partners that are nice and sturdy and capable of taking hours of fucking. the papers are exploding about bruce's 'renaissance' and how he hasn't been this sexually active since he was in his 20s. and unlike when he was in his 20s these articles making the rounds mean the other leaguers make a few jokes about it, not fully understanding why bruce is doing all this and committed to making sure his robin isn't starved or forced to seek out other ways to survive. ways that might involve strangers getting their hands on him which may not be an issue because bruce has noticed how as tim has grown older his appearances has started...drawing people to him.

more than once when out running errands with tim bruce has picked up on men following them around, their eyes fixated and locked on tim's form. bruce theorizes that similar to sex pollen, tim releases a kind of pheromone that will draw the sexually starved to him sort of like a plant releasing flows of sweet nectar to draw pollinators. tim's body is an unconscious hunter, aching to help provide and keep him alive by sending out a wave of pheromones whenever tim is the slightest bit hungry.

so bruce makes it his duty to make sure tim is well satiated, its the only way to keep him safe. and at first bruce treats it like just another duty. he seduces women, brings them to the prepicked room where tim is set up in, warms them up, listens to their little whines and presses his nose to their perfumed necks. it's not that bruce has never had mindless sex before- he has. and when he first started there had been some part of him that was so deeply humiliated and unnerved about having to...to perform with his robin in the room in listening distance. but bruce had NEEDED to do it, he'd had a purpose for fucking and needed to see it through. its not like it was all terrible anyway, he did get SOMETHING out of it. but...it was the afterward that really started getting to bruce. when he'd help the woman fix her dress then send her away, he'd wait 15 minutes then lift up the table cloth, look under the desk, or open the closet where tim was hiding and he'd find tim looking so flushed it was like he was feverish, he'd be softly panting with his soft mouth parted and little tongue visible, and he'd be lying there with his thighs pressed tightly together, a sweet wetspot visible between his dark slacks. often times bruce would need to reach in and pick tim up because he was so weak and loose limbed with his head rolling around seeming like HE'D been the one fucked. tim's skin would be lightly perspiring and when tim's legs moved and he made that little hitched breath sound, bruce would be able to hear the squelch of his little cunt, so desperately wet and wanting.

bruce's awareness of tim grows even while he's in the act he finds him self thinking more and more of tim, his eyes eventually drifting to his hiding place and wondering what tim's state would be, wondering if tim would be staring at him from a little crack in the door. bruce has to stop himself from grunting out a growled 'tim' more than once and just knows how close he is to crossing a line he can't come back from.

logically he knows it can't be all his fault, that the blame must lie with tim as well. that maybe proximity to him is warping something in his brain, that perhaps being the one responsible for 'feeding' tim has meant his body is slowly overwriting all of bruce's 'desire' neurons to fire off more and more at the sight and thought of tim. that it isn't REALLY bruce who is developing an attraction and desire for his young robin.

part of bruce believes that and maybe that's why the pollen anti-agent doesn't work. that this is tim's fault and so its tim's responsibility to fix it.

bruce, if he was lucid, would probably be horrified at his own actions or barging into tim's room and startling him awake by climbing into his bed. bruce had dismissed tim almost an hour ago since him getting dosed had made him unsuited for duty. typically the anti-agent worked immediately but now an hour later bruce had broken into drake manor and was now pawing at the bottom of tim's sleep dress, bunching the fabric up and pushing it away to reveal the little cotton panties protecting a pink little cunt.

bruce is murmuring something, panting hard from the pollen-venom in his bloodstream as he tugs the crotch of tim's underwear to the side and shoves in two fingers that slide in like a hot knife through butter. tim's little cunt stretches around him, already dripping wet and bruce holds back a groan because he knows this is going to be good.

tim is whining under him, bucking his hips and pressing them as close as he can get. bruce can see the cloudy eyed desire in his eyes, his cheeks pink, and his prefect little mouth parted. tim makes the sweetest sound when bruce crouches over him and presses their mouthes together.

tim's mouth is uncoordinated and unsure but he learns fast, meeting bruce's kisses eagerly and wetly, humming when bruce presses his tongue in. tim's little hand scrambles for bruce's cock, reverently touching and stroking it from where bruce has pried it out of his suit's pants.

bruce might be drugged up to the gills but he's not cruel and he knows tim has never had a real cock in him before. so he settles on his back, rests his head on tim's soft pillow, and plants tim on his lap. tim's underwear is soaked through and a little tug with a crooked finger and tim is hastily stripping it away leaving his cunt bare and naked an grinding desperately on bruce's cock.

bruce holds back groans at the feeling and sight, tim's chubby cunt lips are kissing both sides of bruce's cock, tim's hips grinding down and dragging it all along the length- back and forth and back. bruce can feel as his head presses the slightest bit deeper whenever tim's hole drags over the head.

bruce starts it with steady rolls of his hips, grinding up and meeting tim's stuttered rhythem, pressing up slowly, working his cock more closely, coating himself in tim's natural stickiness until- finally.

bruce breathes shakily through his nose when he feels his throbbing cock head pop into tim, as tim's hips tremble and he starts making gutted little noises while bouncing slightly and working his way down to swallow more of bruce's cock into him. it's almost comical how much bigger bruce's cock is compared to the little baby cunt tim is working down. the lips are a furious red, his cunt stretched fully open while steaks of wetness beaded up along where he and tim were joined.

bruce's palms almost wrap fully around tim's waist where bruce is holding onto to guide tim's descent and movements. tim doesn't know how to fuck, how to make bruce feel good, but that's okay because bruce can teach him. can carefully instruct him on how fast to go, how to bounce, when to tighten his insides, and how to roll his hips so he could grind his little button against bruce's pelvis.

it's good- there's no other way to phrase how it feels when he and tim fuck but it's good. bruce feels like an animal, some wild thing out in the meadow plains rolling around in the grass during mating season and just rutting hard and deep into a hot, wet hole. tim is grinding back against him, palms scrambling against his chest, around his neck, over his back to hold on as they mash their parts together.

tim is gasping into bruce's mouth, whining and making the sweetest little animal sounds as bruce uses his grip on his waist to slam him down to the root of his cock and grunt at the hot, twitching around him.

bruce doesn't let tim stop until the sun is peeking into his bedroom and even then tim keeps begging, asking in a desperate voice if they can still keep going. bruce's stamina has always been a problem- he's never been able to keep going to his full satisfaction.

...but that was with regular people. not succubi like tim.

it's not until afternoon that bruce and tim finally taper off. tim, for lack of a better word, was glowing. his skin looked soft and plump, his eyes looked clear and crystal- something about him just seemed to scream good health.

bruce hadn't even noticed how different tim looked until that moment. but he wasn't the only one.

bruce's body wasn't aching. at all. there was no twinge in his lower back, no cracking sound from his knees, his elbow wasn't clicking, and his back molars that he had a habit of grinding didn't ache. but also bruce wasn't tired.

he'd spent nearly a full day fucking his robin and he wasnt tired from the loss of sleep.

tim was whining under him like a puppy, trying to kiss him and press bruce's cock back inside him. to pacify him bruce does that, thrusting in and lowering down on top of tim, letting him feel plugged with his cock and comforted by the weight of bruce.

there clearly is no real substitute to this. bruce had been naive to think just letting tim listen in and watch was enough- especially since he clearly did so much better like this, they both did.

so they'd keep it like this. it was the better of the options but most of all it was what tim needed. and that's what this was all about. tim and helping him the best way bruce could.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #brutim

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