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writtenfangirl · 1 year

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Dancing

A short one this time! I just wanted to write a really fluffy piece without drama although, yes there is a very small conflict if you squint hard enough. I wanted to write another fic that made me feel good just cause life's been extra hard lately.

Although I have a ton of ideas for this one so a sequel if people really enjoy this. I briefly wondered making Y/N be Lady Whistledown and pairing her up with my favorite Bridgerton brother to see what would happen.

TW: People being mean. Gossiping mamas. Cressida Cowper mention.

The ball, as most balls tended to be as the night waned, had grown stale and boring. The dancing had ceased despite the wonderful string quartet that played their music and people had broken off to their own parties. As the guests become accustomed to the taste of alcohol, words began to flow with reckless abandon.

“Did you hear? Viscount Dotsfield has a bastard with a scullery maid!”

“The Earl of Blackfield is said to engage in… relationships with Sir Lockling.”

“There are rumors going around that one of the Colton daughters has a French paramour whose name is Ravilli. An ambassador of sorts…”

Gossip is what fueled the ton, the very lifeblood that had men and women of varying ages coming to these balls in the first place. No one in the ton wanted to be caught unaware and one could never be too careful of the rumors that could be fabricated about you. According to Y/N’s mama, the only people who didn’t come to balls and to the gatherings hosted by members of the ton were those of them whose reputations were in ruins. You were either gossiping or you were the one being gossiped about.

So she came and endured even if she was bored out of her mind.

It wasn’t anything she wasn’t use to anyway. She was a woman and women were seen and not heard. Not only that, but she was a wallflower. Wallflowers were hardly seen at all.

“Lady Y/L/N.”

She knew that familiar voice, smooth and deep yet somehow still bright. If sunsets could speak, Y/N imagined they would have his voice.

“Mister Bridgerton,” Y/N said as she spun around, hiding her smile behind her bejeweled fan. “I half expected you to have taken your leave by now.”

“Under usual circumstances, I might have. But I have yet to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.” Benedict said with a crooked smile. “And my mother has always told me that dancing is one of men’s greatest assets to encourage affection.”

“There’s hardly anyone dancing,” Y/N said bashfully.

“All the better reason to do so.”

Y/N wasn’t naive. She knew Benedict was only speaking to her because his mother asked him too. She’d always rather liked Lady Bridgerton and she had a penchant for forcing her sons to dance with the wallflowers. At every ball Y/N attends, her dance card, though usually empty, always had three names: Anthony Bridgerton. Benedict Bridgerton. Colin Bridgerton.

And there was no man who made he heart beat faster than Benedict Bridgerton himself. Because it was Benedict who offered to fill up all of the other spaces in her dance cards even though he didn’t have to.

All the Bridgerton brothers were kind to her but Benedict was more than that. Anthony and Colin were polite but Benedict laughed with her and conversation flowed between them like water from a fountain. And though she knew Benedict was unlikely to return her feelings, she occasionally let her delusions run wild. She often spent her days imagining what their future would look like. Would their children have his eyes or hers? Their hair would probably be different too. And their noses—

“Y/N?”

Blast! What a bloody idiot! She shouldn’t have let her mind wander like that! And now Benedict was looking at her expectantly with those luminous blue eyes and she couldn’t focus her mind to remember what it is he’d asked of her.

“Yes?” She asked, fighting to stop herself from sounding so breathy.

“Excellent,” Benedict grinned with an outstretched hand.

The dance. She’d forgotten about the dance!

She briefly wondered if she could find a way out of it. Getting on that dance floor would shift everyone’s focus on to them and she already knew what people would say.

“The Bridgerton charity case.”

“Of all of the young ladies, he chose her?”

“He deserves better.”

She glanced around nervously. Everyone else was too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any heed but those conversations would instantly stop the moment she and Benedict stepped on the dance floor alone.

And she knew that if she were to reject Benedict’s advances, her mother would kill her. Though Anthony was but a Viscount, his fortune was considerable large. His father before him had managed their estate well and Anthony was known to make cunning investments that grew their already large fortune, a fortune that would also provide cushy lives for the rest of his brothers. Perhaps not the large estate of a Duke but certainly nothing to scoff at. And Y/N didn’t doubt for one second that the rest of the Bridgerton brothers weren’t as smart as Anthony was when it came to their finances.

It’s why Y/N had constantly heard her mother’s say, “you will marry a Duke or a Bridgerton. Anything less is unacceptable.”

Luckily for Y/N, her mother wasn’t around to see her reject Benedict.

Still, with the way Benedict looked at her, it was hard to say no.

“Just one dance,” Y/N ceded with a sigh, slipping her gloved hand onto his.

His smile widened considerably. “You mustn’t be nervous.”

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N huffed. “You look perfect everywhere you go.”

“Oh?”

Damn. Damn damn damn. Damn the world. Damn herself. And damn Benedict Bridgerton.

“You think I look perfect?” He asked, cocking a brow in question.

“U-uh, I m-mean, that is to say, I don’t—“

“You truly must calm your nerves, my lady,” Benedict said with a chuckle as he pulled her to her feet and led her to the dance floor. “I am only teasing.”

Y/N could hear the stream of gossip stop as members of the ton watched them. There was a pregnant pause and then the chatter began once again. She couldn’t hear the full conversations but she heard enough.

“…fat…”

“…ugly…undeserving…”

“…he is too kind…”

It made Y/N want to curl up into a ball so that the earth may open up and swallow her whole.

“Pay them no heed,” Benedict muttered as he pulled her close, his hand resting on the small of her back as his other hand found hers. “Focus only on us. And tonight, you look beautiful.”

“Only tonight?” Y/N joked in a bid to ease the coil of tension tightening around her core.

“Every night.” Benedict’s tone was too serious to be called teasing.

Soon the new music started, washing away the ton’s horrible words. She could still feel their watchful eyes on her skin, felt the way they judged her.

“Focus on me,” Benedict muttered before he began their dance by swaying them back and fort.

She let the music fill her, weaving through the muscles in her body. Their dance was a complicated one and though she wasn’t an accomplished dancer by any sense of the word, with Benedict leading it was hard to fail.

In and out, push and pull, with complicated lifts and turns yet somehow always finding their way back to each other. It was as if their bodies were magnetized, attracted only to the other. As the music swelled, she forgot all about the gossiping ton and their prying eyes. Instead she only felt Benedict’s body heat, the hard chords of muscles hidden beneath his jacket, his hands steady around her waist.

His gaze on her felt soft, like staring at the afterglow of of dusk. She was never much of a drinker but Benedict always had the ability to make her feel drunk, as though each of her inhibitions left her the moment his luminous blue eyes landed on her.

When the last notes of the song echoed between them and Y/N and Benedict detached from each other to curtsy and bow at one another, the entire ballroom erupted into applause.

A soft gasp left Y/N’s lips. She’d completely forgotten about the ton watching them with Benedict commanding all of her attention.

She raised her head, meeting Benedict’s eyes once more.

“You were marvelous,” Benedict muttered with a grin as he took her hand and placed a chaste kiss against it before leading her out of dance floor. The ton’s eyes had grown less hostile and more appreciative on and, for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt exhilarated.

“I would like to call on you tomorrow, Ms. Y/L/N.” Benedict said, letting his voice be carried throughout the ballroom. His words brought on another wave of whispers. “If you would let me?”

Y/N was absolutely sure she would be the center of gossip tomorrow. Perhaps until the end of the season if Benedict’s intentions are what she thought them to be.

To call on her would mean Benedict would like to get to know her better, to suss out if she would make a good wife or not. And with him a Bridgerton and her a lowly Y/L/N, they would make waves with the ton. She could practically feel Cressida Cowper glaring daggers at her back.

But she didn’t care about that right now. She was still riding the high of their beautiful dance. She was no great beauty, that much was true. But with Benedict, she felt beautiful. And his opinion mattered to her more than the Queen’s and the whole ton’s combined.

“Of course you may call on me, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said graciously, ignoring her fast beating heart. “I’ll have the cook prepare that raspberry marmalade you enjoy so much.”

Benedict grinned. “I am much obliged. I shall see you tomorrow. I hope you have a good evening.” He took her hand again, placing another gentle kiss on her knuckles before he straightened and walked away.

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shes2real · 1 month

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Experiment ♡

Featuring 🌷: rhea ripley + female!reader

Warning ☁️: praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (use of the name, “sweet girl”), fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, 18+ Minors, please don't interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word Count 🌷: 1.1k

Scenario ☁️: besties do everything together, right?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

“Oh my gosh- I remember!” Rhea laughs, playfully hitting you.

Rhea’s finally home from her hectic work schedule and decided to catch up with her childhood best friend. The two of you sat cross-legged, nestled amidst the tufted sofa cushions, each holding a glass of your favorite wine. Laughter bubbles up effortlessly, echoing off the walls.

“Ugh! It’s been such a long time since we’ve hung out. I’ve missed you so much,”

“Cheers to friendship!” You say, clinking your wine glass with Rhea’s.

As the girls sipped their drinks, they reminisced about old memories and shared hopes and dreams for the future. The room is filled with the sweet aroma of a scented candle, adding to the enchanting atmosphere. Time seems to stand still as they lose themselves in each other's company, it felt just like the old times.

You’ve always enjoyed Rhea’s presence. As a child, you wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. Y’all were always inseparable but the problem was, you’d soon realize that you were drawn to women, but you’ve never realized that you were drawn to one specific woman. Rhea. You’ve tried and failed with men, and didn’t want to date any woman if it wasn’t Rhea.

“Okay, I have an idea!”

Rhea took a slow sip of her wine, savoring the rich flavor as she watched you, “Hmm?” A grin quickly wiped across your face as you turned to face Rhea, “Let’s bump!”

“Let’s what?”

“Y’know like…scissoring? We’re besties! ‘S nothing wrong with us experimenting on each other!” You exclaimed as her cheeks flushed with excitement. “You’re out of your bloody mind,” Rhea snorted, laughing until she saw her friend’s smile fade.

“I’m serious,” You whispered, nibbling on your bottom lip. You were nervous to confess your true feelings to Rhea, who wouldn’t be? The whole ‘Mami’ persona was super attractive. Rhea exudes strap energy, without even trying.

But Rhea didn’t turn a blind eye to your demeanor. She noticed that at first, you exude confidence, your posture tall. Every movement is deliberate, every glance a flirtatious invitation, as if you’ve been planning on having Rhea in this moment. But then you flipped like a switch, the playful, flirty twinkle in your eyes dimmed, replaced by a nervous flutter as if you’re suddenly unsure of your proposal. Just as Rhea has been throughout her entire life, as displayed in her wrestling career, she loved a challenge. She decided to see what you had up your sleeve,

“I’m in,” Rhea smirked before kissing her teeth.

Flashing her with a soft smile that betrayed none of your inner turmoil, you leaned forward, and with a tender hesitation, Rhea closed the distance. Her lips, soft as petals, brushed against yours in a tantalizing tease. In attempts to weaken her, you began straddling her lap, with her hands fondling your hips, fingers carefully caressing the dips of them.

As the kiss began to get more heated, Rhea hastily took off your shirt. Thankfully, you weren’t wearing a bra and Rhea’s manicured hands massaged your breasts. The cold rings on her finger caused you to moan softly. Breaking the kiss, you moved your head to her neck sucking on it, you could hear Rhea’s breathing picking up.

“Don’t think you’re in control,” Rhea moaned.

She moved her neck from your lips and looked into your eyes as she lowered her face down to your breasts. She flicked her tongue ring over your nipples before sucking on them. Flustered whimpers escaped your parted lips,

“Oh..”

Shutting you up, she lightly bit down on your nipples causing you to gasp, “Gonna take good care of you, bestie,” she purred before easing you off of her lap.

“What are you doing?..”

Completely ignoring your question, she tapped your thigh before ordering you to take off your skirt before walking away. As you slip out of your skirt and panties, you see Rhea return. “W-where’d you g-“

Aggressively kissing you, she slid an ice cube in your mouth, “Hold this for me, will ya?” She leaned down, pulling your legs and dragging you to the edge of the chair. Using her fingertips, she traced your slick pussy, gliding them on your clit. Your hips slightly shuttered at the movement as she continued to softly play with you.

“Mmm,” You muffled, still holding the ice cube in between your teeth.

She crawled back up towards you as her curled fingers started to slide in and out of you with ease. She took the ice cube from your lips with her free hand, but the feeling didn’t last for too long. You groaned from the loss of feeling as her fingers left your wet hole.

She leaned forward and planted a kiss on your navel, her voice was a low whisper. “What’s the matter, sweet girl?”

Taking the ice cube, she ran it along your stomach and inner thighs. You instantly shivered, aroused by her warm mouth and the cold ice,

“How is it, love? Feel good?” She asked, soothingly rubbing your thighs.

“Yes!”

“Mmm, I bet.” Rhea moaned, taking the tiny ice cube and swirling it in her mouth.

She took her cold tongue and slowly flicked it over your clit before gently sucking on it. The slow pace was torture to you as your head tilted back, “Ahhh,”

As she feasted on your sopping pussy, you felt your stomach flutter. Grabbing onto her hair with trembling hands, you began to cry out,

“R-Rhea! ‘M gonna cum!”

Holding your legs in place, she buried her face into you. Ravenously eating you, licking up every drop. Your vision went white as you reached your peak, cumming hard onto her tongue. Licking her lips, she rose up taking in your dazed appearance.

“Attagirl,” She praised, “You did so good.”

Giving you a comforting kiss, she began to undress. Your eyes instantly locked on her pierced nipples, you’d completely forgotten about them. You dared her to pierce her nipples and she dared you to get a tramp stamp during your college years.

“I didn’t forget about you wanting to, what was that word,” Rhea taunted, “bump.”

She grinned as she laid beside you on the chair, interlocking your legs together. It was your first time doing it, but porn was a hell of a teacher. That confidence from earlier came back as you began to grind against her. Soon enough, you two eventually met each other's paces causing Rhea to bite her lip,

“This is what you wanted, huh?”

You nodded as a loud moan escaped your mouth, you had Rhea exactly where you wanted her as you began to grind harder against her. The room was filled with moans and skin against skin, both of you were getting closer to your climax.

You began to cover your mouth as you felt yourself unraveling, Rhea noticed, “Don’t do that, let me hear you.”

“I-I’m close-“ You whined as your hips involuntarily bucked into hers. Cumming in unison, the chair rocked as both of you shook violently. It felt like forever before you came back to Earth.

"Thank you b-bestie,” you said in between pants.

“Anything for you, sweet girl.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・@kumapassion @bloodripleygal @cyberdejos2 @pittieprincess22 @romanreignsbae

#wwe smut #wwe imagines #rhea x female reader #mami rhea #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley wwe #rhea ripley

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shapelytimber · 4 months

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A Taste of Faith

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok so the concept for this piece was : historical gay nuns, and 70s lesbian vampire movies meets tes (don't ask me why- I just had a vision at 3 am)

Because I think Serana should have been meaner<3 I love women's wrongs and when vampires do the suck <3

Btw of you want to see more gay Serana art, go check out @gay-of-waterdeep, their art is wonderful, and I can't say this was not a bit inspired by what they do :))

Process (and me rambling about some of my favorite 70s lesbian vampire movies (because I have a problem)) below vvv

Additional details about this drawing ! 1) I used the same Mara design than the one from my tarot deck :)) and 2) the other woman is one of the priestess in the temple in Riften lglggigkglgl her name is *check wiki* Dinya Balu

And now......... Some movies I enjoy because my house my rules, you came this far so why not hear about niche european movies :))))))

Disclaimer for a majority of the films in this genre : the male gaze is very fucking obvious in these movies... they were made by men for men, and the message is often "lesbianism is a dangerous temptation for women". It's a glairing flaw nearly all of them share and that sucks (and frankly it's a flaw Serana's writting kinda has in my opinion, minus the lesbianism part, but let's not dwell on that)- so if you can't get past it, it's completly understandable, be on your way and have a nice day <3

- Daughters of Darkness ! A toxic man is returning to london with his newly wed wife, but they get stuck in Belgium and are forced to stay in a luxurious hotel. Don't worry about the 10/10 smokeshow countess seducing his wife :). Completely unrelated, this movie has, in my opinion, the most beautiful lesbian kiss I've ever seen- but I might not be very objective because Delphine Seyrig is there lglglflflllglm The best one in the list ! So if you want to whatch one, whatch this one <3

- The blood spattered bride ! This is more of... an aquired taste let's say- but I really like it ! A quite effective horror movie, with goofy ass scenes (shoutout to the vampire lady buried in the sand naked with only a diving mask that is not the screenshot because tits), and emasculation being a recuring theme <3 (but if you want to watch it, please check the content warnings beforehand, it has a lot of very shocking and frontal scenes, and it's the 70s so it's not done very tactfully. Also pretty intense flashing lights)

- The vampire lovers ! Ok so this one is a lot less fun compared to the other two because it's made by the Hammer BUT... 1) Ingrid Pitt hello and 2) it's such a intriging thing to see a very christian/conservative studio make a film like that. I know a lot of people don't like the Hammer movies from the 70s, because the studio had a lot less money, and were making wild decisions. But I love them, because they tend to be much more fun bloody and sexy ! I'm a simple woman mjllkklhkhlhlho case in point with the vampire lovers (although if you want a fun vampire hammer movie from the 70s, Dracula ad 1972 is way better). And Peter Cushing is there (i love this man so much-) !

And now I shall resume my quest to find Vampire Lesbos by Jésus Franco and have a probably mid experience watching it xoxo

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livefromcastledracula · 6 months

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Book Carmilla vs Adaptations (SPOILERS)

Here are a few 'interesting' adaptations. I like some of them for their own merits, but mostly dislike them as Carmilla adaptations for the below reasons, with some notable exceptions: Vampyr: The Dream of Allan Gray (1932 film): The first Carmilla inspired movie, although it keeps almost NOTHING from the novella except 'female vampire'. In this case, a creepy old lady rather than a charming young lesbian. This is a really moody, slow, acid trip of a film though, a treat for fans of vintage vampire film. (3/10) Hammer Karnstein Trilogy: The Vampire Lovers is the gayest and most book-accurate. Carmilla still kisses/seduces men before killing them, boo. The second one her identically-named reincarnation is blonde and has sex with / falls in love with a man booooooo. She's not in the third one at all. It's all very 70's and nowhere near queer enough, but at least we got the incomparable Ingrid Pitt in the first movie. 5/10. Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust: 'Carmilla' shows up as a surprise third act villain. She's an elegant and imposing vampire queen with a castle called "Cjethe" and the Vampire King offed her previously for being A Bit Too Extra. She's... Bathory. She's Elizabeth Bathory, right down to the name of her historical castle, the elaborate gowns and the blood-bathing. Bathory in Castlevania Nocturne even looks a lot like this one. Cool scary vampire lady, but Carmilla In Name Only. 4/10 Castlevania (Games): She's fine here, but mostly just kind of a big Dracula groupie like most of the other non-Dracula vampires. Often depicting as a flying skull or mask crying bloody tears, with optional succubus-like figure reclining on top of it. Cool. Rondo of Blood has her appear together with a ninja vampire Laura with bunny ears because why the hell not. 6/10 Castlevania (Netflix show): Baddass, angry Karen. She's amazing in the first season when she's scheming against Dracula, but after that she just sort of sits on her butt sipping wine and griping about men for a whole season until Isaac storms her castle. A cool character but not a great Carmilla, because Carmilla for me is defined by how much she loves women, not how much she hates men. Still amazing voice work by Jaime Murray though and her last stand was insanely baddass. 7/10

Carmilla Web Series / Movie: My favorite adaptation. It's obviously playing waaaay fast and loose with the canon and reframing her as a charming antihero in a zany urban fantasy, but there's deep current of love for the source material, especially in the movie. Natasha Negovanlis has charisma off the charts and the Hollstein romance is adorable. This Carmilla might be a black-leather-wearing snarky millenial goth with a Canadian accent, but as the show goes on it peels back layer after layer of the romantic, poetic, wistful, world-weary immortal hinted at by the novella. This show redeems LeFanu's lovelorn villain in all the best ways. 10/10. 2019 movie / Styria movie: I still haven't seen these, have heard good things about the gothic cinematography on the most recent one but not good things about the rest of it. The trailer looked moody and pretty though, I may watch it at some point.

#carmilla weekly #carmilla #carmilla karnstein #sheridan le fanu #carmilla castlevania #carmilla of styria

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asha-mage · 1 month

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Since it's my birthday my friends got me the amazing gift of 'watching the Wheel of Time show while occasionally stopping to discuss/let me loose my mind' for which I am incredibly grateful. A few random observations from this time through, as I attempted to view it through the lens of the entirely WoT uninitiated (as my friends are)-

The group shots, where the camera passes from one of the Emond's Field 5 to another, do this clever trick where Rand is never actually standing on his own. He's always standing beside or behind someone in one of these shots, so the camera doesn't actually have to cut or pan away from someone else to get to him. This serves the purpose of highlighting him in contrast to his friends, but also to subtlety downplay his presence to the audience, and build up to the Dragon reveal in episode 7 very effectively.

The cinematography in general is so exceedingly rich and delicious- the stark white of the Whitecloak camp contrasted with the bloody reality of their actions. The bright primary colors used to make the Aes Sedai visually pop and feel magical and strange, even as they are dressed (for the most part) practically for their traveling (a complaint I had about the Witcher, aside from everything being brown and grey all the time, is that the mages show up to battles dressed in ballroom dresses instead of you know, clothing that would make sense). The subtle use of lighting and camera angle to create a sense of vast isolation of Shadar Logoth, fear and danger in the Ways, and cramp sweltering heat in the Blight.

Moiraine's opening narration in episode 1 is essentially a summary of the information we get from one of the epigraphs at the ending of the Eye of the World prologue, to whit:

"And the Shadow fell upon the land, and the world was riven, stone from stone. The oceans fled and the mountains where swallowed up. and the nations where scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was blood and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead. All was shattered, and all but memory lost, and one memory above all others, of him who brought the shadow, and the Breaking of the World. And him they named Dragon." - Aleth nin Tearin alta Camora, The Breaking of the World, author unknown, the Fourth Age "The world is broken. Many many years ago men who where born with great power attempted to cage darkness itself. The arrogance. When they failed, the seas boiled, mountains where swallowed up, cities burned, and the women of the Aes Sedai where left to pick up the pieces. These women remembered one thing above all else, the man who brought the Breaking of the World. And him, they. named Dragon." - Moiraine

This makes me suspect their was an earlier version of the script that actually used the epigraph (maybe even both of them). I have mixed on feeling on this, as the epigraphs are one of my favorite artistic choices of Jordan's and really help emphasize the history and depth of his world, but I think filtering it through Moiriane and making it slightly less opaque was a smart choice to convey the information to the audience. I also think this works on a character level as well- here is Moiraine's understanding of this information, shaped by her biases.

Every re-watch also makes me more and more comfortable in my 'the show is a future/past turning of the wheel from the books, the broad events and truths being the same, but seen in one of those endless variations we hear about' interpretation of the series. The heart of the story and characters is the same, and the broad strokes and framework are the same, but it's in the details where things emerge as different. This interpretation has the benefit of fitting really really well with the meta-narrative stuff Jordan always liked to pull, and in freeing I think the show expectations of being a one-to-one recreation.

That said I defiantly felt the cracks in the final two episodes as a result of the Covid shutter and loosing Barney Harris more strongly this time- some of that being that this is my first re watching of season 1 since I've seen season 2. You can practically see the things they wanted/planned to do that had to re-worked because of circumstances beyond their control. Mat's absence in the group argument scene (and the 'I am so tired of you two fighting over her' line that was clearly meant to be Mat's), as well as the lack of bigger/more cohesive battle scene in Tarwin's Gap. You can also tell they hadn't quite figured out how they where going to re-work season 2 yet given that the ending for season 1 had to be changed last minute (for example, their is no reason for Moiraine to just outright admit that she released Lan's bond unless they hadn't yet decided that was where their arc was going yet).

I think the show does an exceedingly good job of structuring it's exposition to the un-intiatited, trying to stagger it so that audience is largely learning new things in pace with the characters. I know people where frustrated that things like the War of Power have yet to come up in earnest even in the Latra and Lews scene, but I think the slow and steady reveal of things matches both the core idea of 'their is always more you don't know', and trying not to overwhelm the audience. My friends had no trouble following what was going and picking up the bigger implications/subtext that underpins a lot of information. 'But why did the Dragon try to cage the Dark One? It doesn't seem like it was that simple.' came up a few times especially.

The detail that what jump-starts Perrin's wolf brother connection is having his wound healed/cleaned by the wolves in that scene from episode 2 is so incredibly clever, and a good twist on the traditional 'werewolf bite' mythology.

I love the deliberate choice to incorporate so many random ruins and remnants of things in the background of shots. Not just the 'dilapidated stone buildings' that the characters camp in, but things like the trio of carved faces that Egwene and Perrin run past while fleeing the Whitecloaks, or the boundary stones Mat and Rand pass on the road, or even just the small carvings and pillars scattered about the cave where they are holding Logain. It all helps to make you feel that ancientness, that brokenness of this world more effectively.

The reoccurring use of the Dragon's Fang to symbolize violence and destruction: the Trollocs using it as a scare tactics, it appearing in the blood in the pool after Nynaeve kills the Trolloc, being burned into Siuan's ruined childhood home....and the way that contrasts with it's use in the finale episode, when we see it whole and unbroken in the seal/yin yang symbol for the first time was really really clever. One of my friends actually gasped out loud and went 'oh' at the first shot of the whole seal when it clicked.

The show does an exceedingly good job of maintaining that core idea of the series that it's about our relationship to violence- violence never being casual or simple or easy, but always raw, hard and bloody and a little bit ugly. EVen subtle things like the way the show depicts Moraine hurling stones at the Trollocs with uncomfortable frankness, trying to literalize what in most fantasy media would be an abstract. Take it from I cast stone 2, to I inflict horrible blunt force trauma on another creature. And of course everything re: Perrin and his ax.

I have more thoughts, but I think I'll save some of them for after we watch season 1, because they relate strongly to stuff from there.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #Wot On PRime #Wheel of Time on Prime #WoT s1 #WoT Meta #Wheel of time Meta #WoT Musing #Rand al'Thor #Moiraine Damodred #Perrin Aybara #Egwene al'Vere

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inkskinned · 2 years

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but you couldn't, like, see a gay person kissing.

it was alright that i had been catcalled at 12 years old. it was alright that i had been followed and groped at 15. it was okay men were leery and treacherous. it was okay when a man asked me my age and when i said 18, he said, that age is my favorite.

don't you like feeling sexy? i love action movies, but i often have an internal tally of how often a camera will begin at someone's hips and travel to her face only as if by accident. weirdly, you can't show too-much asscrack in the same movie, even if it was the style in the nineties. sort of only apply a tasteful sprinkling of asscrack.

i am wearing a body type that is very easily sexualized. it's a compliment, you'll miss it. it is not his fault, i am told - and then usually with this assurance, someone will compare me to an object. i am, by the way, not using "i become an object" metaphorically. well, you wouldn't wear a precious watch in a dangerous city - i am the watch, in this situation. can you blame a thief for taking a jewel if it was just left out in the open? i think my personhood is the jewel, but sometimes also it is pain. a dog sees a steak. i like this one because it does refer to men as dogs, even if it does literally compare me to a piece of meat (which is, you know, somehow worse than being a dog. at least call me a bitch, babe).

it's inappropriate to show two men kissing, but it's totally normal to hear that "best" age for childbirth is 15. (it's not, by the way. try 20's & 30's. do your fucking reading). and on tv - let's cut from a murder mystery where a woman is shown brutally bloodied, carved into pieces (only pg-13) into a tampon commercial where she runs around, happy and fluttering, refusing to use the word period, white pants abounding. periods: gross, icky. violence, though, is just a gendered currency.

so it's like - you say "can we please treat women like they're people and stop cutting their heads off in advertisements" and then it's like. no actually we needed that woman's bellybutton to sell drain fluid don't like it don't look. and you say "can you please not make every latin person a drug dealer holy shit" and they're like. unfortunately if we don't make the latin person a drug dealer we literally will go rabid. and you say "okay can we at least agree you super don't need to use racist epithets why is this even a conversation we're still having" and they're like. actually my child is a make-a-wish kid and his only wish was that i get to use words that make your skin crawl and if you don't let me use the words it's because you love cancer don't you.

so it's kind of a lost cause. because when something is complicated even a little bit, you find yourself trying to explain that the solution isn't make women cover up, it's that the idea "sexualization of nonconsenting parties is wrong" can also hold hands with the idea "not every expression of fondness is sexual in nature, nor is nonhegemonic sexual expression somehow more inflammatory or inappropriate than its counterpart"- and both of those ideas can also hold hands with "the male gaze is rarely censored despite the massive amounts of societal harm it imposes." but like, that's a big thought. let's just slap "pg-13" on the movie because they actually use the word lesbian. and let's cross our fingers and hope no kid figures out they're lgbt+ before college - otherwise they have access to literally no resources, since even google will censor the results in case they're pornographic. now, if you wanted to know how to hide a body...

when i was a kid i used to keep my eyes on my toes while walking past bra stores, feeling uncomfortable. it was gross to look at ladies, i knew that much. the way the women were posed was... not for me. not even for the people shopping. it was weird. i don't think anyone actually there-for-the-product was like yeah this is inspiring.

and i remember in high school my friends and i were still talking about how uncomfortable we felt in victoria's secret, shuffling our way out into the new england chill. little yellow leaves around our feet. a guy held the door open for us. a few seconds later, he jogged up after us. we were so startled we turned to look. "sorry," he said. "i just wanted to ask how old you all are." we were young then, so we lied and told him we were older. we'd talk about this later - we all thought maybe one of us had dropped our wallet or something. he smiled dolefully. "i just wanted to say you all are fucking beautiful. you have amazing tits on you."

sometimes i wonder. what if one fraction of the effort they put into making sure no gay thing ever occurs onscreen just went into controlling and educating their own fucking population. now wouldn't that be something.

#this is all over the place #im still recovering from nona #this doesn't make sense #i think what im saying is #fuck censorship #friendly reminder the hays code was LITERALLY created to appease nazis :)

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year

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Close Shave

[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?

This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]

007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.

“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.

His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”

Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“

“Hm.”

“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”

“Pestered?”

Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”

“Again.”

You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”

He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”

He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”

“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.

Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”

“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”

Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”

“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”

He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”

You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”

Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.

Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.

Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”

“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”

He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.

Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”

He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.

“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”

“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”

His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.

With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”

You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”

You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.

“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.

The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.

“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.

“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.

With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.

Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”

“Top cabinet?”

“Mhm.”

Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.

“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”

Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.

“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.

“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.

“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”

He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”

You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.

“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.

“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.

He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”

“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.

“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”

“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”

“Bath, then.”

James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.

“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”

Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”

“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.

“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”

He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.

“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.

You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.

“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.

His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”

Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”

#james bond #james bond smut #james bond imagine #james bond fic #james bond x reader #james bond x female reader #james bond x you #james bond x y/n #skyfall #007 skyfall #agent 007

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writing-havoc · 2 years

Note

I'm literally obsessed. I'm sure you've seen my stalking your recent kaz x reader fics and I will not apologize for it! You're amazing!!! Can I request a Kaz x reader with the two prompts (from a post you rebloged):

"You're a little hurt, that's all" (said by Kaz)

and

“You need to distract me. do something, anything.“ (said by Reader)

PS I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort. ;)

But seriously though. You're writing is amazing, and I hope you know that. ❤ Thank you for the extra comfort character content!!!

Dust and Rubble

♡ Summary: A plan goes wrong. You get injured. Kaz tries to help

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Warnings: Vomit, Blood, Description of Injury

♡ WC: 4.7k

♡ Prompts: "You're a little hurt, that's all." // "You need to distract me. Do something, anything."

I seen your comment on my masterlist post but since this is a sideblog, I couldn't reply. But, yes! I will tag you in all my Kaz fics from here on if I remember to :]. Thank you for all the kind words you've been sending me.

Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors. Hope you enjoy <3

Prompts used came from this list by screnwriter

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The dress clothes you were wearing were made out of some of the finest exported materials you could get in Ketterdam, stolen from the closet of a high end family a mission was centered around months ago. It was your favorite color, and it was a crime that it wasn't simply named after you with how stunning you looked dressed in it from head to toe under the yellow lights of the ballroom, your skin shinning and teeth glowing from pure euphoria.

You fit in perfectly.

It was truly life's biggest shame that it would most certainly be drenched in dust, rubble, and blood by now.

Kaz sat up, eyes blurry and doubled- no, quadrupled, and ears ringing louder than the screams escaping from the throats of those who just became widows. His head was pounding, entire body begging him to lay down where he sat struggling and just rest for five more minutes.

But he couldn't. He absolutely could not. He had to find you. He had to find the others, and get the fuck out of here.

He rubbed at his eyes, gloves unhelpful as they dragged even more dust on his eye lids. A handkerchief in his dress-pocket was missing, so it was either fumble around with his eyes closed or deal with the consequences of dust filled eyes watering uncontrollably.

The latter was the option he went with.

His bad leg screamed as he pulled himself upright. Every breath was a fight, but nothing seemed to be broken or bloody. Just incredibly sore and leaden with what he's now registering as lifeless bodies thrown on top of him by the blast.

He wants to expel his entire stomach.

Waves clash at his knees, spreading up his thighs as he feels the weight of a severed arm slide off his back and drag down his body, hitting the floor with what should be a thump but is just followed by more ringing.

The only reason he knows he's not completely deaf is because he can heat the higher pitched screams around him, and voices that are running by him sound like they're underwater.

This is, by all means, a good sign.

As the last of the dirt is filtered out of his eyes by tears, he takes a good look around.

Women and men alike are sprinting around the ball room, looking for their loved ones and helping out those who are still looking. Some find eachother across the room and run into eachothers arms, embracing eachother tightly no matter how much pain they were in. Others clutch the lifeless bodies of their deceased or injured partners, begging to the saints and anyone around them to help.

Kaz's heart is pounding. He can feel it now, trying to claw its way out of his chest because he can't fucking see you and his leg hurts so bad it feels like he broke it again. But he forces himself to walk forward, to look up instead of down because if you're anything else but fine then he has to face the reality that he may have to adjust to this stupid saintless world without you in it and he's not sure he could cope with that.

Fuck, where did it go wrong?

The bombs weren't supposed to be anywhere near the inside of this room. They were supposed to be outside on dumpsters and inside crates to create distractions and block off paths in their escape. Were they labeled wrong? Did they bring them inside? But they were old and rotting. There shouldn't have been anything useful in them that would require them to bring them inside for literally any reason.

Did Wylan place them on the wrong crates? Did someone bring them inside in a drunken haze? But, how did parts of the fucking ceiling come crashing down?

The blueprints had to have been wrong. Everything must have been wrong when coming up with this plan and he didn't see it in the entire month it was being fleshed out.

Kaz tripped on a piece of rebar, it's presence covered by the torn dress of a different guest. His foot was sent alight with pain, knees landing awkwardly on palm sized pieces of rocks that made them feel fuzzy.

For fucks sake, where the hell are you?

And in a horribly timed moment, when he's on his stomach and arms feeling like jelly as they hoisted his body up, that is when he saw you.

He will never forget the full body reaction he had when he saw you.

You were laying face first on the ground, your clothes torn and soaked with blood that for a moment he hoped wasn't yours, but instantly knew it was.

Because in a terrible fit of irony, there was two large pieces of stained glass sticking out of your back. And Kaz wanted nothing more than to release the entirety of his stomach contents when he noticed they almost looked like wings.

This was a joke. A horrible, horrible joke.

In that moment, however, he saw your arms move, hand coming to rub at your face and another attempting to roll yourself on your side.

Your movement caused one of the shards to tilt, falling out of your wound and shattering against the ground. He's never heard more clearly than then when you let out a blood curdling scream as it tore your flesh and the other tilted as well.

It, however, didn't fall out, and only hooked itself under your skin, pulling it up and outward.

In an extraordinary display of adrenaline, Kaz lifted his body off the ground and marched on over to you.

"Y/n." He tried, hearing coming back to him in full swing.

It was overwhelming, the amount of people screaming and the sound of rubble falling against eachother. Bodies squelching as people stepped on them in their rush to get out and your cries as you continued to try and hoist yourself up.

He tried to stop you, but couldn't get there in time as the other largest shard slid out of your body and stained the floor with your blood.

"Y/n!" He called. He sank to his knees when he got to you, hardly thinking as he helped to get you on your hands and knees.

The water dragged up to his waist, splashing on his stomach. It jostled his stomach and made it very, very difficult to not regurgitate everything he had eaten.

"Kaz." Your voice was gruff and he watched in horror as blood mixed with your spit and fell to the floor.

He lifted you up, letting you sit on your legs to get a good look at you.

Your hair was filled with dirt and dust, eyelashes caked similarly. Red dripped from your busted bottom lip and down your chin. The gash was sure to scar, but at least the blood wasn't from a chest wound like he thought.

"Kaz." You called again, letting your head loll around. "Kaz my back really hurts. And my head." You tried to bring your arms up but let out a strangled sob when you couldn't.

"You're a little hurt, thats all." He lied, completely betraying his own mantra. Your clothes were becoming soaked in your blood and there was no fucking way he was going to be able to get you out without damn near carrying you and the water was already too high.

Without allowing himself to think about it, he got up and hooked his hands under your arms. You howled with pain, but you at least had the sense to help him as your wobbly legs straightened. Tears streamed down your face and your arms hung limp, but at least you were up.

"Alright, dove." He swallowed his spit, squeezing it past the lump in his throat. "We need to go, okay? We need to get out of here."

"But, the job-"

"Fuck the job." The words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. "We can attempt it again a different day. But we need to live to see that day, yeah?"

You nodded, and he couldn't help but be a little grateful that you were a little out of it.

He tried his best to encourage you forward, but words of encouragement are the bottom of his list of things he's adept at, especially in situations such as this. So it was mostly limited to "Right there" and "You're okay."

You were no more than forty feet from the Slat when you went still, eyes squeezed shut and arms still hanging limp at your sides. The back of your clothes were soaked and slowly seeping to the sides. It slowed a lot since you began your trek back, but it was still concerning.

"We have to keep going."

"You need to distract me." You blurted, taking a staggering step forward. "Do something. Anything."

"Distraction." He mumbled, mostly to himself, partly to you because what the fuck was he supposed to do? There was nothing around he could use and his leg felt like it was splintering in his calf.

He could say something. Maybe put you into shock somehow. But you don't get shocked easily and you're usually the one spitting out random facts and tidbits of information. He doesn't have random facts and tidbits of information stored in his head outside of the ones you've given him-

Well. Actually...

"Did you know birds have one of the most sophisticated and impressive breathing systems of any animal?"

You lifted your head, peeking your eyes open to look at him with an expression of intrigue underneath the pain.

He went on. "They've got airsacs. Attached to their lungs." He struggled for the information. "They've usually got about nine, three up front and six in the back in their rump."

You chuckled childishly. "Rump."

"Yes, rump." He fought off a smile. "It takes two breathing cycles to complete one breath. If I'm not mistaken, it's called unidirectional breathing. We use bidirectional. In and out. They breathe in while also breathing out."

You trudged forward, nearly there. "Is that why their bones are hollow?"

He stared in slight surprise. "Yes, actually. They've got pneumatic bones with big open crevices that store air, which in turn helps them with flying."

"That's so cool."

"Learned it a while ago while listening to some tourist veterinarian while on a job." He could recall the job nearly perfectly. "He had various picturegraphs and diagrams-"

Kaz took a step forward and hollered in pain with a closed mouth, bad leg completely collapsing underneath him. It was probably fractured again.

He should have told you to shut up and keep walking. Instead he indulged you and got distracted trying to distract you.

Yet, he doesn't regret it.

"You okay?" You leaned down as much as your body would let you, wincing in pain every inch down.

He was about to respond when you seemed to have bent down too far, your entire body collapsing to the ground. You only had enough time to stop your head from cracking against the wet cobblestone ground before you went unconscious, body ragdolling in a pile of limbs.

The entire world seemed to be crashing again. In the back of his mind he knew he should act rationally, pick you up and drag you to the Slat, but he couldn't get his body to move.

'You're dead' he thought. 'You've lost too much blood. You died.'

Those thoughts were only there for a moment before he sprung into action, letting the rational take over and hoisting you up and over his shoulder. He ignored the searing pain in his leg and the waves crashing at his chest and licking up his neck, limping to the door of the Slat and throwing it open.

He was lucky that Nina had made it back some time ago.

Very, very lucky.

"Zenik!" He called out. She responded immediately, her entire face falling as she seen who he was holding. Matthias' name was out of her mouth in an instant, his hulking body coming from around the corner. He stares for no more than a second before running over and taking you from Kaz's back.

"What happened?" She asked as she rushed down the stairs and into the makeshift infirmary, Matthias in front and Kaz taking up the rear.

"Glass shards. Stuck right through about three inches."

She ordered Matthias to set you down on your side. Placing you on your chest posed too much risk to your breathing stopping completely. Nina immediately got to work, tearing the clothes off your shoulders and exposing your back.

Her hands hovered over the gashes on your back, eyes squinted as she felt around for the damage. She cursed and moved her hands, the room watching as your muscles began to flex and more blood poured from your wounds. He nearly yelled at her to demand an explanation when a smaller piece of glass exited the wounds. She took them and dropped them in a bucket next to the table.

"They were moving around as you two were walking, going deeper." She closed her eyes completely now, hands immediately back to the gashes. "One of them nicked an artery."

"Fix it." He ordered.

"Oh really? That's what I should be doing?" Her eyes snapped open, glaring at your back. He knew they were supposed to be directed at him. "I thought I was supposed to be cutting it."

He glared at the side of her face. "Don't get smart with me, Zenik."

"Then don't give me stupid orders."

And he knows it was a stupid order. He knows. But he had to say it. He had to.

He paced around the little amount of open space he had. His skin felt like it was crawling where he slung you over his shoulder and he was drowning, the water covering his nose and nearly covering his eyes. His stomach felt like it was turning inside out, guts twisting at sharp angles. He was absolutely soaking in his own sweat and his fucking leg-

"Kaz if you're going to pace you're going to have to leave. It's distracting."

"Last I checked you don't give orders around here."

"No, I don't. But I'm the one currently fixing your love interest and I need silence and no distractions to achieve that."

He felt his shoulders bristle and cheeks grows warm. "Y/n's not my love interest."

That got a chuckle out of her. "Please, Brekker. Don't lie to yourself. It makes you look daft." He was about to retort, but the door above slammed open, Pim popping her head around the corner once she trekked her way down the stairs.

"Jesper and the rest of the crew are back."

White hot anger surged in his blood. When he got ahold of them he would tear them in half.

His eyes flickered to your body, Matthias holding you on your side with Nina pouring every ounce of her focus into fixing your wounds. And then he thought of himself, pestering her like a gnat to fresh fruit and being of no help at all.

He really wasn't like himself. Not with you.

"I'll be there in a moment." He leveled his voice. "Herd them to my office."

Pim nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

He waited until the footsteps faded until he looked at Nina again. A thin sheen of sweat was plastering to her forehead.

He took a deep breath, and then grabbed a nearby bucket and discarded any and all of his insides into it. Spit collected in his cheeks, making them burn as it coated his teeth. The back of his throat burned. He swished it around, spitting whatever was left into the bucket. He dryheaved for a few moments, cursing all the saints he didn't believe in before putting the bucket back where it came from, wiping trickles of bile from his lips and transferring it to his clothes.

The water was lowering, heavy against his chest but no longer covering his face. He tried to remember your warmth, a stark contrast to the charactered piercing cold of corpses, and walked around the table and up the stairs.

"If she dies, Zenik, so do you." He completely ignored Matthias' protective growl.

She nodded. "Noted."

He held onto the railing, knuckles turning white underneath his gloves. The backs of his cheeks were collecting spit once more, stomach contracting. He begged to his own body to just wait a little longer, and took the last step up and into the main floor of the Slat.

Dregs stared, but he couldn't be bothered with them. All he could see was red and green and feel red and blue, and the only people that could explain this was up several stairs and in his office.

It was a blur all the way up until he reached his door and swung it open. Jesper, Wylan, and Inej were sitting around the room, all staring at him with a look of guilt and mild fear.

He closed the door behind him and grabbed his cane from the umbrella bucket. It wasn't loud, but the sound was firm and noticeably being masked as something it was not.

With gritted teeth and venom in his voice, his question-turned-statement rang clear in the quiet room.

"What. Happened."

-----------

You were dressed in a baggy white button-up shirt and the coziest pair of sleep pants that Kaz could find in Ketterdam. The material wasnt itchy. Rather, it was soft and felt addicting on the pads of his fingers when he dragged them over it, slow and meticulous. They weren't nearly as high end as the clothes you were in before, and they weren't your favorite color by a long shot, but you still looked as attractive as ever.

The chair Kaz was sitting in was old and uncomfortable. Everytime he shifted he felt as if it would break underneath him. The wood bent and groaned no matter what position he took, but he would deal with it as he always does.

He watched your breathing, eyes glued to your chest for any sign that you were going under.

It had been several days since the mishap at the ball, and he was still as angry as he was that day after walking up all those steps to his office for an explanation.

It was stupid. The mistakes that were made were childish at best, completely and utterly rubbish at worst. A child could have done better. A child after downing several pints of beer could have done better.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his rapidly beating heart.

He's already gotten too worked up over this several times, a sour mood following him day in and day out.

Nina was able to fix your artery, but it was the loss of blood that truly worried her. She had no idea if you would pull through, but she did her best.

Realistically, Kaz couldn't blame her. He knew that she would do her best and then some to make sure that you would have the best chance of pulling through. But seeing you still unconscious, even if Nina was the one keeping you under, made him resent her a little. A lot. But you being kept unconscious with your healing process sped up was the fastest way for you to recover, so he'll keep his mouth shut and his brooding (for the most part) to himself.

Being down here gave him a lot of time to think. Which usually wasn't a problem. He treasured the time he got to himself, to continue scheming and analyzing blueprints and updating ledgers. Small meticulous tasks to fill his day and cards and dice to fill his night.

But he didn't realize that he treasured the small moments with you even more. Even if you didn't invade his space directly, he enjoyed the subtle ways in which you did.

The tea you brought him late at night would sit on a coaster next to the papers on his desk, the aroma filling his nose as he drunk it slowly, savoring the way you got it right almost every time these days. Little sayings you spewed at random moments would sit in his mind, always just to the left of his current thoughts. Little trinkets you found that you thought he would enjoy would find their place around his office or in a drawer just dedicated to you.

He didn't get those anymore. Not with you down here.

He shifted, internally wincing at the way the chair groaned.

It was loud enough that he missed your own groan. But he didn't miss the way you shifted and the way his name fell from your lips.

"Kaz?" You called into the room.

"To your right." He could attempt to play this cool all he wanted, but the second his own voice made it back to his ears he knew pretending was futile.

You turned your head, and your entire body relaxed when your eyes scanned his virtually unscathed body. He didn't realize the weight that he was carrying on his shoulders until he really processed that you were alive and finally awake. He felt lighter. Lighter in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

"How much pain?" He asked, getting up from his chair and standing next to the table.

You wiggled around, instantly wincing. "Not too bad." Of course you would say thay. "Just a little sore."

He put his hand next to yours on the table, leather gloves feeling a little hot around his hands.

"What even happened?"

He sighed heavily, annoyance plaguing his body. "Turns out they moved all the rotting crates outside into the building. They didn't want anything outside to sway the professional look they were trying to achieve." He tapped the table. "The bombs were inside, and our blueprints were outdated by nearly a decade. The structural integrity of the building has been shot for years and some drunk civilian decided he was going to have a cigar right next to the bombs and threw his match into the crate, setting off the bomb."

"And that made nearly the entire building collapse." You finished.

"Exactly."

He looked at the space next to your head. It was a horrible miscalculation that nearly cost his crew their lives. He had to do better. This line of work isn't safe and never will be but he had to work harder to eliminate risks as much as-

"Stop." You said, voice suddenly stern. He looked into your eyes, alight with fire. "Don't go down that inane rabbit hole."

"It was a possibility I should have foreseen." He began. "The fact that I didn't shows that I'm falling behind."

"No." You said so simply. You took a deep breath like you were steeling yourself, and then began the painful trek of sitting yourself up.

"Lie back down." He tried to order, hand coming up just inches in front of your chest. You stared at it, then moved your lower body to come below your upper half, effectively sitting up while staying in place. He didn't know whether to be impressed, be annoyed, or chuckle.

"Kaz, you cannot possibly believe that you can foresee every outcome to ever happen."

"Of course not." He agreed, but still felt a little attacked. "But this is one I that I should have. It makes sense."

"Even if you did see it, you cannot control how the building responds- usually!" You shouted the moment he tried to interject. "The blueprints were out of date. There's no way you could have known that the entire thing would collapse."

"I should have double checked the dates. Made sure they were the updated ones."

"And why would you do that?" You pressed on. "When you ask for blueprints as architect, you would automatically assume they would give you the most updated ones. It was a logical assumption."

"I still should have checked." He didn't raise his voice, but it was obvious that he wanted to.

You looked at him, a little shocked, eyes searching for something. He fought everything in him that told him to turn away and walk up those steps. He felt a little bare, and got a grip on his breathing. Sudden understanding spread across your face.

"You know I'm alive, right?" You straightened your back. "I'm here."

He was about to retort, say 'of course I know that. You're sitting right in front of me.' But the reality of the situation truly dawned on him, just like in those frantic moments when he was looking for you, that there was a very good chance that you could have died if Nina didn't arrive back when she did.

This was childish. He gripped the head of his cane. "Of course I do."

You reached your hand out, inches away from his hand. You waited for a sign from him, and grabbed the cuff of his jacket with the pads of your fingers when he gave a subtle nod. The way you moved was slow and deliberate, giving him ample time to pull away. You stopped when his hand was no more than a few inches from your chest and let go.

He kept it there, hovering. Very carefully, you slid his glove off and put it to your side. Your lip was scarred.

"I'm here," you looked him in the eye, "because of you. I'm alive, because of you. Neither I, nor anyone else, expects you to see everything that could be thrown at us. We take the risk everyday when we adorn the Dregs tattoo, and even when we don't." He swallowed the spit in his throat, listening to your voice. "I don't plan to leave you anytime soon, Kaz."

He let your words sink in, feeling the warmth radiating from your chest. The waters lapped at his knees, but that distinctive sick feeling wasn't nearly as bad. You were open, giving him the choice, and he didn't feel pressured to fulfill anything.

He wanted to, he really truly wanted to.

He pulled his hand back, giving a nod. But not today.

"Don't leave." It was both a statement and a request, a plea, even, whispered into the candle lit room.

Silently, you took the glove and passed it to him. "No problem."

With a vulnerable heart and shaking hands, he took the glove and put it on. They didn't feel all that hot anymore.

"Wait here." He said. "I'll get Nina."

You smiled. "Yes, sir." You attempted to salute him, and winced when you moved too quickly. He sighed, a whisper of a smile gracing his lips, and started to make his way up the stairs.

The moment he emerged from the underground, the eyes of his Crows magnetized towards him. It only took them a moment for them to break out in smiles, Nina immediately hopping up and heading down the stairs.

"Told you Y/n would come around soon." Jesper piped up, earning a little shove from Wylan and a shake of the head from Matthias.

Inej stared at Kaz, and he immediately knew he was showing more than he intended. He schooled his expression and walked to the kitchen to prepare himself and you some tea.

The faintest movement alerted him of Inej's presence behind him as he got the cups down.

"It was your eyes." She said, answering a question he didnt ask. A moment of silence passed between them, conversations of little importance invading his space. "I don't think I've ever seen them so bright."

He didn't have it in him to say anything to that. Instead, he gave her a look with relaxed brows and an even more relaxed jaw, hoping that was enough. She smiled before disappearing again, no doubt going to see you.

As he poured the water in a clean pot, checking the temperature is where it needs to be, he leaned against the counter and let out a long sigh, exhaling umtil his lungs begged for air.

So long as you were alive and with him, he would be fine.

And as terrifying as that statement was, it brung him immense comfort.

You wouldn't leave him. Not anytime soon.

#ask #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #six of crows x reader #request #six of crows fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #fanfic #b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 2 months

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Girlhood for my English Essay

*People often think of girlhood as dolls, gossip, boys, yearning for marriage, children, a white picket fence with a man to sweep you off our feet.*

*It’s not.*

*It’s about men trying to control you. Men putting you down. Men whispering your accomplishments but screaming your failures.*

*It’s about realizing at a young age no matter what you do it will never be good enough to the standards of a man, and sadly, some women who have fallen victim to their honey coated words and thorn covered intentions. Girlhood isn’t meant to be that.*

*Girlhood is never and was never about girls realizing and maturing younger than boys and pulled from men to change their clothes, their attitudes, their personalities to come off as more “appealing”girlhood is not about changing who you are to be loved.*

*Some even in the name of “safety” by a grandmother or mother who’s own girlhood was take by a man or their own mothers who girlhood was taken from them.*

*Girlhood was never meant to be taking a weapon or extra person on a walk, looking over your shoulder or crossing the street at the mere sight of a man.*

*Not running to another woman in the name of fear at the chance of safety when a man finds you appealing in some way you know you hate but they love. Girlhood isn’t meant to sit and be quiet as someone speaks on your body as if it’s not yours. Your being as if it’s not yours.*

*Girlhood is not picking at your thighs, your stomach, staring at the imperfections to long in the mirror as if in some point in time you were not a cherished being. Everyone is to someone. Girlhood is finding that someone to cherish and to be cherished by them.*

*Girlhood may be bloody and scary, but it’s beauty in its own way. For it’s what makes a girl a girl, to a woman to become a woman.*

*Girlhood isn’t meant to be told to be quiet, to take it, to mold to their forms of a woman. Girlhood wasn’t meant to be ridiculed or shamed for being a girl.*

*For being to young, to immature but when you grow you’re too old, too mature. Girlhood is often criticized, much like women.*

*Girlhood is growing, loving, confidence, letting go. Girlhood is finding people to love you for your laugh, your jokes, your smiles, your frowns, your sobs, your cries, your imperfections, your anger, your baggage, your trauma and your solice.*

*Girlhood is finding girls to become women with you. Girlhood is you. Beautiful, confident, brazen, bold, funny, a perfect white toothed grin or tooth gapped one, skinny, chubby, blue eyes to brown, lonely ones or preppy ones, short to tall ones, confident or shy.*

*Girlhood was never a man. It was made to seem like it was by men. Men were never girlhood. Men will never be girlhood.*

*Many lose their girlhood to the hands of men, some women who were poisoned by their manly hood. Sharp words, actions and malice.*

*Girlhood is what you decide it is. Your girlhood can’t be taken, it may have been hidden along the way by a man, or stolen by one, but girlhood has always been you. It will always be you.*

Don’t wait for a man to give it back. Hold it tighter than ever before

Take your girlhood and grow with it.

Because it’s yours. It will always be yours. I’ve learned that, not just by learning, but by a girl my own sister who I could never replaced. Who I was a girl with, who also bottled up their own girlhood only to take it back.

I've learned this by my best friend who I know was a girl whose girlhood was lost for a while, who slowly regained it as I regained it alongside her.

By my favorite Brit who never fails to make me laugh, who taught me to laugh again, to smile and cherish it all.

They are the epitome of girlhood. As am I. Because girlhood is us.

Even when I rejected girlhood, being a girl and femininity because I believed I was undeserving of it. That I wasn’t good enough. That my clothes wouldn’t fit, my face wasn’t pretty like the others, boys or girls didn’t like me because somehow I wasn’t the epitome of what they thought of a girl.

But that’s not girlhood. Because I took mine back.

This is Girlhood, me, my sister, my best friends, my mother, my grandmother, my friends who’ve I’ve lost along the way, the ones I’ve gained, the ones I walk past and smile at, the ones I sit by, the ones in the stores, the ones everywhere.

Girlhood is us, it’s the little girls at home, the ones in the crowd, teaching every little girl and woman what it is to be a girl. We make girlhood, we mold it, we create it and we cherish it.

And no man can taint that. For it is ours, and will always be.

#girlhood #what it is to be a girl #essay #essay writing #writing prompt #yay

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homosexuhauls · 11 months

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By Vidya Krishnan

GOA, India — My niece was just 4 years old when she turned to my sister-in-law in a packed movie theater in Mumbai and asked about gang rape for the first time.

We were watching the latest Bollywood blockbuster about vigilante justice, nationalistic fervor and, of course, gang rape. Four male characters seized the hero’s sister and dragged her away. “Where are they taking Didi?” my niece asked, using the Hindi word for “elder sister.” It was dark, but I could still make out her tiny forehead, furrowed with concern.

Didi’s gang rape took place offscreen, but it didn’t need to be shown. As instinctively as a newborn fawn senses the mortal danger posed by a fox, little girls in India sense what men are capable of.

You may wonder, “Why take a 4-year-old to such a movie?” But there is no escaping India’s rape culture; sexual terrorism is treated as the norm. Society and government institutions often excuse and protect men from the consequences of their sexual violence. Women are blamed for being assaulted and are expected to sacrifice freedom and opportunity in exchange for personal safety. This culture contaminates public life — in movies and television; in bedrooms, where female sexual consent is unknown; in the locker room talk from which young boys learn the language of rape. India’s favorite profanities are about having sex with women without their consent.

It is the specific horror of gang rape that weighs most heavily on Indian women that I know. You may have heard of the many gruesome cases of women being gang-raped, disemboweled and left for dead. When an incident rises to national attention, the kettle of outrage boils over, and women sometimes stage protests, but it passes quickly. All Indian women are victims, each one traumatized, angry, betrayed, exhausted. Many of us think about gang rape more than we care to admit.

In 2011 a woman was raped every 20 minutes in India, according to government data. The pace quickened to about every 16 minutes by 2021, when more than 31,000 rapes were reported, a 20 percent increase from the previous year. In 2021, 2,200 gang rapes were reported to authorities.

But those grotesque numbers tell only part of the story: 77 percent of Indian women who have experienced physical or sexual violence never tell anyone, according to one study. Prosecutions are rare.

Indian men may face persecution because they are Muslims, Dalits (untouchables) or ethnic minorities or for daring to challenge the corrupt powers that be. Indian women suffer because they are women. Soldiers need to believe that war won’t kill them, that only bad luck will; Indian women need to believe the same about rape, to trust that we will come back to the barracks safe each night, to be able to function at all.

Reports of violence against women in India have risen steadily over the decades, with some researchers citing a growing willingness by victims to come forward. Each rape desensitizes and prepares society to accept the next one, the evil becoming banal.

Gang rape is used as a weapon, particularly against lower castes and Muslims. The first instance that women my age remember was in 1980, when Phoolan Devi, a lower-caste teenager who had fallen in with a criminal gang, said she was abducted and repeatedly raped by a group of upper-caste attackers. She later came back with members of her gang and they killed 22 mostly upper-caste men. It was a rare instance of a brutalized woman extracting revenge. Her rape might never have made headlines without that bloody retribution.

Ms. Devi threw a spotlight on caste apartheid. The suffering of Bilkis Bano — the defining gang rape survivor of my generation — highlighted the boiling hatred that Indian institutions under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, a Hindu nationalist, have for Muslim women.

In 2002 brutal violence between Hindus and Muslims swept through Gujarat State. Ms. Bano, then 19 and pregnant, was gang raped by an angry Hindu mob, which also killed 14 of her relatives, including her 3-year-old daughter. Critics accuse Mr. Modi — Gujarat’s top official at the time — of turning a blind eye to the riots. He has not lost an election since.

Ms. Bano’s life took a different trajectory. She repeatedly moved houses after the assault, for her family’s safety. Last August, 11 men who were sentenced to life in prison for raping her were released — on the recommendation of a review committee stacked with members of Mr. Modi’s ruling party. After they were freed, they were greeted with flower garlands by Hindu right-wingers.

The timing was suspicious: Gujarat was to hold important elections a few months later, and Mr. Modi’s party needed votes. A member of his party explained that the accused, as upper-caste Brahmins, had “good” values and did not belong in prison. Men know these rules. They wrote the rule book. What’s most terrifying is that releasing rapists could very well be a vote-getter.

After Ms. Bano, there was the young physiotherapy student who in 2012 was beaten and raped on a moving bus and penetrated with a metal rod that perforated her colon before her naked body was dumped on a busy road in New Delhi. She died of her injuries. Women protested for days, and even men took part, facing water cannons and tear gas. New anti-rape laws were framed. This time was different, we naïvely believed.

It wasn’t. In 2018 an 8-year-old Muslim girl was drugged and gang raped in a Hindu temple for days and then murdered. In 2020 a 19-year-old Dalit girl was gang-raped and later died of her injuries, her spinal cord broken.

The fear, particularly of gang rape, never fully leaves us. We go out in groups, cover ourselves, carry pepper spray and GPS tracking devices, avoid public spaces after sunset and remind ourselves to yell “fire,” not “help” if attacked. But we know that no amount of precaution will guarantee our safety.

I don’t understand gang rape. Is it some medieval desire to dominate and humiliate? Do these men, with little power over others, feeling inadequate and ordinary, need a rush of power for a few minutes?

What I do know is that other men share the blame, the countless brothers, fathers, sons, friends, neighbors and colleagues who have collectively created and sustain a system that exploits women. If women are afraid, it is because of these men. It is a protection racket of epic proportions.

I’m not asking merely for equality. I want retribution. Recompense. I want young girls to be taught about Ms. Bano and Ms. Devi. I want monuments built for them. But men just want us to forget. The release of Ms. Bano’s rapists was about male refusal to commemorate our trauma.

So we build monuments with words and our memories. We talk to one another about gang rape, keeping it at the center of our lives. We try to explain to our youngest, to start protecting them.

This is how the history of the defeated is recorded. That’s what it all boils down to: a fight between forgetting and remembering.

#rape culture #radical feminism #indian feminism #vidya krishnan #misogyny

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deansapplepie · 2 months

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MarchWeres Day 8

Prompt: Loyal

Pairing: Werewolf! Daryl Dixon x Reader (actually his name isn’t mentioned, so you can read with your favorite character)

Word Count: 403

Warnings: torture, male violence against female, violence, hostage-taking. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

You had already lost the track of time, how long have you been locked in thag dark room? You didn’t know, it felt like na eternity specially when you were being tortured… the time ran so slow…

They knew about him. They wanted him, and they knew you were the way to get him… or at least they thought it. It had been already three days and you didn’t open your mouth yet.

The door grated and a strong light hit your face, blinding you. 2 men entered the room and turned on the lights. “Is today the day you’re going to tell us what we need, sweetie?” The one that seemed to be the boss said.

“I already told you, you better kill me.” You smiled, what contrasted a lot with how you looked at the moment, dry blood all over you, bruises and cuts on your face.

“You better tell where that monster is, or we’re going to continue torturing you.” The disgusting man said. “I’m not one to beat women, you know? But Bob here is. And you know he can have a good time with you.”

“So let Bob show me what he can do. I don’t care, I’m not saying anyth…” Before you could finish you felt a sharp pain in your leg, son of a bitch Bob had stabbed you.

You screamed, but no word left you.

“Where’s it, sweetheart?” Bob asked you while he separated his tools in the order he would use on you today. You were already well acquainted with them.

“On your ass.” You answered receiving a strong punch on your face. You felt blood in your mouth.

“Not much of a talker now, ain’t you?” He curved himself, his face in the same height as yours and a gross smile on his face. “You don’t need to be so loyal, the monster isn’t…”

He was cut off by your bloody spit on his face.

“You bitch!”

He raised his pulse one more time to hit you, but before he could do it, screams were heard coming from the corridors, shots and furniture being thrown. The man stopped. You heard a loud growl and you knew it… he came to rescue you.

“Starting to regret your actions already?” You asked a smirk on your face and a scared look on their faces.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Mdni banner by @cafekitsune Cute paw divider by @lazyneonrabbitt

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phoenixxxlily · 8 months

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Favorite TV Shows I Watched in 2022

Bridgerton (2020-?)

"Losing races to strange women in parks at dawn, imagine the questions I would face."

Outlander (2014-?)

"I just need a cup of tea. If I can find any. Bloody taxes."

The O.C. (2003-2007)

"Welcome to the O.C., bitch."

Heartstopper (2022-?)

"You are the kindest, most thoughtful, and caring, and amazing person in the whole world."

Under the Banner of Heaven (2022)

"I believe that in order to stand proud before our Savior on the last day, mothers must defend our families from evil, to help men see past themselves, and to stand up to those even in our church who would lead us astray."

Stranger Things (2016-?)

"I say you're asking me to follow you into Mordor. But the shire -- is burning. So Mordor it is."

First Kill (2022)

"Like I said, everybody has tells if you look hard enough. And I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

The Summer I Turned Pretty (2022-?)

"For me, everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June until August."

Kenobi (2022)

"The light will fade, but is never forgotten."

Becoming Elizabeth (2022)

"People talk of her enough. People well know and remember Anne Boleyn was my mother. Why can I not? Is that wrong to love my mother?"

Locke & Key (2020-2022)

"This was the real magic. This was all I ever needed."

House of the Dragon (2022-?)

"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

Sex Lives of College Girls (2021-?)

"Which group of butts looks more approachable?"

Anne With an E (2017-2019)

"To bring it into daylight, and realize nightmares aren't so scary without the protection of the dark."

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missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway · 20 days

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We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader x Alpha!Steve

Wordcount: 3990

Summary:

You celebrate your first Halloween together as a mated pack.

Warnings:

Gratuitous Smut, Smut, Shameless Smut, Halloween Costumes, Porn With Plot, Voyeurism, Pole Dancing, Lapdance, Lap Sex, Threesome, Double Penetration, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Mating Bond, Mating Bites

Notes:

Hello Heathens! It's time for some sexy Halloween shenanigans with our favorite pack! Happy Reading!

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Another year, another Halloween bash thrown by Tony at the compound. This year you had the added benefit of not one but two Alpha’s on your arm. Not to mention the lovely claim marks decorating your collarbone.

You couldn't be happier that the boys went along with your costume choices for the night. Preening over how sinfully handsome your Alpha’s looked. Both of them grew their hair out for the event. “Anything for our sweet little Omega.” They both stated upon your request.

Bucky looked otherworldly dressed as a vampire, devilish fanged smirk and all. The contacts you purchased him turning his steel gaze, cold as ice. The subtle clenched jaw was even working in his favor.

Steve was almost unrecognizable. His blonde shaggy locks dyed brown and a full thick beard covered the lower half of his face. A couple well placed bloody cuts, dirtied up, torn clothing and a set of top and bottom fangs completed the werewolf ensemble.

Then there was you. Dressed as Queen Akasha herself, sans the neck piece. You wanted to show off your claims, not hide them. It took some serious convincing and time on your knees for your Alphas to agree to let you wear the barely there costume. Based on the looks the three of you were receiving as you made your way through the crowd outside, it was well worth it.

“I need a fucking drink. All these eyes on you are making me twitchy.” Bucky grounds out.

“Oh Sarg, they aren’t all on me.” You stop, turning your back to Steve as you face him, running your fingers down his Adam's apple. “I can practically see knees weakening watching your tall, dark, mysterious frame walk by.”

You place a kiss to his chin and pivot to look up at Steve. “And you my dear Captain. You’re perplexing them all. Who knew America’s Golden boy could look so unruly.” You nip his Adam’s apple and head towards the bar inside, to gain some much needed warmth.

“I want to be angry, but for the life of me, I can’t think straight when she looks like that.” Steve states.

“Fucking little vixen.” Bucky shakes his head. “C’mon Stevie. Best not leave her alone too long. Trouble loves to follow her round.”

Drinks had been partaken, conversations shared and the party was starting to wind down. Only the team and those closest to them remain, congregating in the common room. As a joke, or maybe not, Tony had a stripper pole placed in the middle of the couches.

The girls were curious as to your excitement at seeing the pole and you divulged that you used to choreograph for your sex worker friends for extra cash. “Plus it's a great workout in general. You really should give it a try.”

“You can’t tell us something like that and then not show us.” Wanda blurts out.

“I have to agree.” Nat nods along. “What level of routine were you choreographing for your friends? How do we know you’re not just trying to impress us with your words?”

With the rum still slightly running through your veins you had no qualms about educating them on your skills on the pole. “I know your goading me to get a free show but I really can’t back down from a challenge.” You smile devilishly. “Go ahead and take a seat, bring the men over too if you wish.”

“Oh I’m so game for this.” Maria exclaims, grabbing Wanda’s hand and pulling her toward the couches, currently occupied by Bruce, Clint, and Sam.

“Where’s the smoke?” Clint asks as the women take their seats.

“We’re about to get a lesson on how to work a stripper pole.” Nat explains.

“Yo!” Clint yells to Tony, Thor, Steve and Bucky at the bar. “We’re about to have some entertainment of the sexy variety. You might want to make your way over here.”

They all shrug and head over to the couches. Your Alpha’s noticing that you are not among the women sat waiting. A haunting beat begins playing as they spot you sauntering towards the pole. Almost recreating Akasha’s walk from the film.

“Is she about to pole dance to Forsaken from Queen of the Damned, dressed as Queen of the Damned?” Sam questions.

“I have no idea what this Queen of the Damned is but I am most enjoying where this is going.” Thor imparts. “Once again Barnes, and not to now exclude you Rogers, I am very impressed by your Omega.”

“Shush. We’re trying to enjoy the show.” Nat hushes them.

Unbeknownst to the team you could do this routine in you sleep. It’s one of your favorite go to's when your feeling yourself and need a little outlet. And yes you have taught your two best friends this routine for when they need to hit the pole as a side hustle. You even taught a class using a variation of this routine to bored housewives.

You can't help the way your body caresses and moves around the pole. As always the beat takes over you, turning you into a siren of the flesh. You're flawlessly doing sunwheels, corkscrews, and ballerina spins. Intermingled with inverted splits, a cross knee layback, and secretary sits. You’re sure to show off a bit of floor work as you perform an assisted shoulder stand down onto all fours, whipping your hair around as you sit back on your heels. You smile smugly at the girls' slack jawed faces before continuing on.

Your boys are transfixed by how you have captivated the attention of everyone in the room. The prideful Alphas can’t help the satisfaction they feel knowing that you’re all theirs. Brazenly showing their marks to the world. They may have to put a pole up at home, make a whole naughty playroom for your enjoyment.

“Another!” Thor proclaims as you land on your feet and bow to the small applause of your super friends.

“I always knew there was something you were hiding. That sweet face, so unassuming. No typical Omega could handle having one supersoldier Alpha, let alone two. Let me guess, you're proficient in lap dances as well?” A tipsy Tony inquires.

“But of course.” You smile mischievously at your Alphas. “Friday. Dim the lights and play Unholy by Sam Smith and Kim Petras.”

You confidently strut over to stand between Bucky’s legs as the lights lower and the song begins. Your hips bounce to the beat, sinking low, using his powerful thighs for balance, leaning forward into a body roll, pulling back until you're upright.

You slowly lift your left leg into a standing leg extension, holding it for a moment before releasing it and straddling both of Alphas thighs with a cheeky giggle. You grab onto their shoulders, throwing your head back and quickly whipping your hair back and forth. Snapping back forward and throwing your hips up and back, bending over for all to see.

You eye your Captain, as you spin on your heels, swaying your hips side you side you back up into his lap. You roll your body against his, running your right hand up the back of his neck, weaving your fingers in his silky locks and gently pulling as you grind your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Omega.” He growls in your ear.

“Shhh, Captain. Just enjoy your dance, Alpha.” You tease.

“You're lucky you’re already mine, doll. Doing this with everyone watching, testing our patience.” He nips behind your ear. “Risky business. Making your Alpha’s want you so badly. Just look at Bucky.”

You turn your head, still working Steve over, as your eyes lock with the dilated pupils of Bucky's. You lick your lips and swallow as you feel your slick begin to soak through your thong.

You feel Steve inhale, as Bucky’s nostrils flare, both clearly scenting your arousal. “Everyone out.” Bucky growls to the room.

“Excuse me, this is my compound.” Tony snaps back.

Ignoring him, your Alpha continues on. “You all have 30 secs to get the fuck out before your stuck watching Steve and I take our Omega apart.”

“I would quite enjoy viewing you ravage such an enticing Omega as I am not allowed to partake per your Midgardian customs.” Thor declares. “A shame really.”

You turn over to straddle Steve’s lap, continuing to dance, lost in the combined scent of your Alpha’s. “I don’t even think these two would notice right now.” Tony quips.

Bucky leans in, gripping your chin. “That right ‘mega? You getting floaty already?” You subtly nod your head. “Want me to kick everyone out or do you want them to truly see who you belong to?”

“Depends on who’s staying.” You whisper out.

“Apparently just Thor and Tony” He quickly scans the room. “Everyone else seems to have found their way somewhere else.”

“Probably to go work out all the sexual tension you guys have been putting out.” Tony snarks.

“Most certainly. I saw Natasha practically dragging Bruce behind her.” Thor agrees with a chuckle.

You look up to see the room clear of everyone but the Demi God and the Billionaire Playboy. “What do you think Captain? An audience of two, okay with you?”

He nuzzles into your neck. “I don’t care either way. I just really need to have you squirming on my cock.”

“I need a verbal yes or no, Alpha.” You respond. “I’m not about to have you get all possessive and violent because someone other than Bucky is getting turned on watching you split me open.”

You feel the growl emanating from his chest deep in your core as he leans back and looks you in the eye. “Yes, Omega. They can watch how good you take my cock.”

“You heard the man.” Bucky addresses the two men. “Don’t take this opportunity for granted.”

Zoning in on the Alpha you’re sat upon, you lean forward, running your hands through his shaggy hair, kissing him deeply. You're granted the taste of the whiskey and Asgaurdian liquor he’s been sipping throughout the night on his tongue. The scent of him around you combined with his current taste has you grinding your slick soaked thong all over the font of his pants. Making quite the mess.

A devilish smile appears on his bearded face as he wraps his fist in your hair and pulls your head back. Forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Unzip my pants and pull me out." He quietly commands.

Without hesitation you undo his pants and pull out his thick length. Subconsciously licking your lips at the sight of his precum already leaking out of the tip.

“Pull that flimsy piece of fabric to the side and sit on my cock, Omega." Eyes glazed over, hindbrain kicking in at the order you lift yourself up enough to pull your thong to the side, exposing your leaking slit. You place his tip at your entrance, sliding down onto his thickness, filling yourself up inch by inch.

Hand still in your hair he pulls you down into a heated kiss, tilting his hips up as your pelvis’ meet, getting as deep as he can. Pulling away, he wraps a hand around your throat, groaning as you involuntarily clench around him. "Now be a good girl and hold on to my shoulders."

Once your hands are securely placed, Steve begins to piston his hips up into you. Practically using your body like his own personal ‘rutlight’. You start to bounce along with him, meeting in the middle with a grind of your hips.

His hand tightens around your throat, the sweet pressure muffling your screams as you notice cool metal fingers trail along your spine. "That's it Omega. Look so pretty taking your Alpha’s cock.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “Fuck. I bet you're squeezing his dick real good, huh, baby girl?"

You can feel yourself ready to explode, his words adding fuel to the fire. You feel more than see, his flesh hand traveling down your torso, stopping at your mound. He takes the opportunity to play with your clit, rubbing tight little circles against the sensitive nub. You bite your lip from the overwhelming sensations of being surrounded by your Alpha’s, right on the knife edge of control, rapidly hurtling towards the cliff of your climax. Not to mention the fact that you have an audience, witnessing your destruction.

"Oh baby you're so close. Can feel your sweet little pussy trying to pop my knot.” Steve grits out. “Gonna cum all over my fat cock?"

You moan and nod your head yes, lost in a haze of lust. "I can’t hear you, Omega. Use your words. Do. You. Want. To. Cum. On. Your. Alphas. Cock?" He punctuates with his thrusts.

"YES! Please, Alpha. Want to cum all over your cock. Want to make a mess just for you." You manage to whimper out.

Bucky groans, nipping your shoulder. "There's our sweet ‘mega. Always so good for her Alphas." He increases the pressure and speed on your clit. Making your grind against Steve all the more.

"Now! Cum for us right now, Omega. I want to feel this little tight pussy of yours clamping down on my dick like a vice." Steve commands, setting off your orgasm. Throwing your head back, you let out a deep guttural moan, writhing on his dick, as you ride out the climax.

Unwilling to knot you and have you stuck on this couch for who knows how long, but still needing to remind the room who you belong to, Steve removes his hand from your throat. Within seconds each Alpha has latched on to their respective marks and bit down, freshening up their claims.

Like the turning of a switch, you melt into Steve, losing yourself to the lovely feeling of Omegaspace. Floating in a haze of pheromones, enveloped in the safety of your Alpha’s arms. You could care less who was left in the room other than Steve and Bucky.

“You can put your tongues back in your mouths now boys.” Steve addresses the awestruck duo frozen to their seats. “Thank goodness you didn't pull your dicks out at least.”

“I was tempted to.” Tony blurts out.

“If I had, I would not have been able to refrain myself from trying to partake in the festivities.” Thor confesses.

“Been there.” Steve agrees with a chuckle. “Anyway, have fun getting rid of those, boys. We’re going to go knot our sweet little omega til she passes out. See ya in the morning.”

“You’re staying here?” Tony asks.

“There is no way in hell I can last til we get to our place before I knot her properly.” Bucky growls out. “So yeah, we're staying in our apartment here. That a problem?”

“Not at all. I'll have Friday double the soundproofing and warn Sam.” He squeaks out.

“Thanks Tony.” Steve responds, scooping you up and walking down the hall to the apartment they keep on the compound.

You're undressed and placed down on what you know to be Steve’s king sized bed, based on the scent wafting up from the sheets. You sense them on either side of you as you burrow your nose in the pillow beneath your head.

“Feeling good, Omega?” Bucky asks.

“Mmmhmm” You nod your head in response, opening up our eyes and catching the steel grays to your right.

“Need more? Or are you good for the night?” Steve queries.

“More. I know you both didn’t come.” You quirk a brow at them. “Can’t have that.”

“That right ‘mega?” Bucky teases.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay.” He caresses your chin. “Can’t disappoint our sweet little Omega now can we. What do you have in mind, babygirl?”

“I want to ride my Captain while you fuck my ass from behind Sarge.” You calmly state.

The supersoldiers let out simultaneous growls at your request.

“I want to be stuffed full. Need you both to use me for your pleasure. Please.” You can’t help but pout as you plead for what you want.

Bucky runs his metal thumb across your bottom lip. “No need to pout, sweet ‘mega. You’ll get what you want. Stevie, toss me the lube I know you keep stocked in your nightstand. You heard what she wants. Let her ride you some more while I prep that glorious ass.”

You smile triumphantly as you throw a leg over Steve’s naked waist. Somehow you just now realized that you’re all undressed, naked flesh on full display. You tease his turgid length, re-coating him in the fresh slick leaking from your cunt until you feel the vibration of his growl against your thighs as he stills your hips with one of his massive hands. With the other, he grabs his dick, teasing your clit with the tip, pulling a whine from you that is cut short as he lines up and thrusts, sinking his cock deep inside you.

Your head falls back and your spine arches as you push yourself up and undulate your hips, burying him even deeper. Your Alpha’s following your every move, entranced by the way you swivel and bounce, losing yourself in the ebb and flow of your own little private show being put on for their eyes only.

Worked up and ready to be inside you himself, Bucky, having sufficiently lubed up his cock, climbs between Steve’s spread legs. Placing a hand to the middle of your spine he kisses up your throat until he reaches your ear.

“Be a good Omega and lean forward for me so I can join in on the fun. You don't look stuffed enough yet.” The cool palm in the middle of your back helps push you down until you're laying flush against Steve’s chest.

He then proceeds to run his lube covered fingers along your stretched out lips, gathering the slick that continues to pour out of you with one hand as the other grabs a cheek and spreads you out, exposing your puckered little hole. Running his coated fingers around your hole teasingly, slowly adding more pressure until he is able to get the first one, then two fingers inside you. Opening you up little by little, as you gently roll your hips back and forth, grinding down on the Alpha beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me ‘mega. Gonna add another finger. Open you up a bit further so you can take me nice and deep. Want you to focus on how good my fingers feel.” Bucky instructs you.

He works his third finger into you and proceeds to scissor them all and open you up further until you can take them with ease and are a whimpering mess. As he pulls them out, you whine at the feeling of emptiness left behind.

He grabs a cheek in each hand and spreads you out, signaling Steve to still your hips. Lining himself up he breaches your tight little hole. “Relax, ‘mega. Take a deep breath for me.”

You do as you're told and on your exhale your tight ring of muscle relaxes, allowing Bucky to sink right in. “Fuck. So tight. How ya feeling, Omega?”

“Full.” You moan out.

“Good.” Bucky grits out.

That is the last thing you are able to comprehend, as they begin to pull out and thrust into you, never leaving you empty. As one retreats the other pushes in, playing you like a well strung violin. Pulling moans, whimpers and orgasms from you like notes on a page. Creating a sinful melody to feed their carnivorous appetites.

You can feel the haze of overwhelming pleasure start to take over your body. Your senses are so keyed up and overloaded, that it doesn't take long before you are crying out and clenching down on the cocks lodged inside you as you crest over the edge into a blissful climax. Head buried in Steve’s chest as tears begin to flow from your eyes at the overpowering ecstasy.

“That’s it, Omega. Love it when you squeeze me so tight, trying to make me pop my knot, lock me in place.” He lifts your head from his chest and places a tender kiss to your forehead as they slow their thrusts, allowing you a moment of reprieve.

He wipes a stray tear away with his thumb. “How are you feeling?”

You’re just coherent enough to get out a few words. “So good. Need more. Want your knots.”

“I couldn't dream of denying her anything right now.” Bucky states.

Your pussy and ass squeeze around your Alphas, as you imagine being filled with their hot cum, causing them to start to lose their rhythm. Pounding into you erratically as they chase their own highs.

“Fuck. That’s it ‘mega.” Steve grunts out. “Take my cock. I’m so fucking close. Gonna pop my knot and paint your insides white. Gonna lock you to me as you take every drop.”

As Steve’s words hit your ears, you instinctively squeeze around Bucky, setting off a frenzied pace in the Alpha as they race to the finish line.

“Fuck Steve, you make her clench around me like that again and her pussy wont be the only thing getting filled.” Bucky groans out.

Having them talk about filling you up like you're not even in the room is the spark that lights the match on the fire that is your impending orgasm. You detonate in a blaze of pleasure, almost blacking out from the sheer force of it, taking both of them along with you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Bucky loses it first, hips stuttering until they still, popped knot resting against the outside of your ring of muscle as he groans and empties his balls into your abused little hole. Gripping your ass cheeks so hard you're sure he left bruises behind.

As he slowly pulls out his still hard member, your hole clenching trying to pull him back in, Steve lifts his hips and lodges himself deeper into your cunt. He pulls you into an intense kiss just as his knot pops, making good on his promise, as he shoots rope after rope of his seed deep into your womb, coating your walls white, triggering a minor orgasm of your own. “Can’t get enough of filling you up. Especially when it sets you off again like that. Come on, ‘mega, milk your Alpha dry.”

He grips your hips, grinding your clit along his pelvis until you come one last time for him, biting down on his shoulder as you undulate against his chest.

You feel cool metal and warm flesh dance along your spine as you come down from your final high. Removing your head from the crook of Steve’s you turn to look upon the satisfied face of your head Alpha.

“Hey there sweet Omega.” You smile at the softness in the rough Alpha’s voice. “You did so good, baby. Made your Alpha’s feel amazing.”

You preen at the praise, cuddling closer to Steve’s chest. “So so good. Go ahead and rest, doll. You’ve earned it.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re starting to drift off, listening to your Alpha’s speak around you.

“You know, last year, I knew you had her locked on your knot while we watched Scream.” Steve confesses. “Even though you were trying to be quiet, I heard you going at it before I came out. Might have even gotten off to it so I wasnt coming into the room hot.” He chuckles.

“Steven!” You jolt upright, to smack him on this peck.

“You dirty fucking dog. Just couldn't help yourself could you?” Bucky shakes his head. “Bet that wasn't the last time you jerked it to us.”

“That night wasn't even the first.” He replies with a shit eating grin as he pulls you back down, locking you in his arms. “Certainly won't be the last.”

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