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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

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Kreme Filled

Yan Candy Person + G.N Candy Witch Reader

Summary: Blurb in which Witch Reader teaches a friend a bit about their anatomy and said friend teaches them about theirs. Said friend almost happens to be made of fried douth

(Tags: Light/Candy body horror, slightly suggestive, fingering but not in the way that you think, no use of y/n - reader is referred to as Sweets)

"Whoa!- I didn't know you had a hole here too. I learn something new about you everyday, Sweets!-"

Living with folks made out of pastries and sweets for so long, it's surprising how easy it was to forget their various attributes and lack there of every now and then. Showered by so much love and acceptance in the community, it almost came as a shock the first few time to remember those caring hearts were made of sugar and syrup instead of the same blood and tissue as your own. Often times you recalled only these features by the spillage of their syrupy fluids, but frequent instances across that further separated your human skin from their sweet, doughy flesh.

Kreme was one of the sweetest souls you've met by far both in personality and taste. A local pastry with a hair that reminded you of freshly made donuts and coincidentally made of the same dough. Piped with passion for design and clinging to your side, Kreme visited your bakery daily for different pigments of frosting to decorate their clothing and self with whenever creativity struck which was hourly for them. On the plus side you had a few bracelets and rings too delicate for you to wear, but made them happy when displayed around your kitchen and home.

While piping the frosting need for a new batch of sprinkles on a tray, Kreme had grown bored by lax amount of attention on them and so they decided to pull a little prank to lighten the mood. They slathered their hands in powered sugar, snuck up behind you as concentration lowered your guard, raised your shirt under the guise of a friendly hug, and brought their powder covered hand down on your sides. Rubbing the powder into your skin, Kreme noticed something as their palms ran over your stomach. A hole almost like the one in their torso only much smaller and refused to open no matter how their fingers pried. They tried again, but stopped upon hearing you cry out in discomfort.

"Ow! Kreme, that hurts - cut it out."

Kreme immediately drops their hands, staring at you like a deer in headlights as you face them. "Oh! I'm really sorry, Sweets - it's just that your hole is so tiny I was trying to make it bigger for you." The fiend slaps their hands over their mouth. "I'm sorry - are they supposed to be that small for your kind? Please don't tell me I seriously hurt you."

You gently pull their hands from their face, wiping yours of its confusion in attempts to soothe their rising fears. "I'm okay, Kreme, really. But, what do you mean by... hole?"

Kreme lifts your shirt and points at your stomach. "This one! Never seen anything like it before."

You follow their finger, gears clicking as you look just above your waist. "Oh.... ohhhh that hole. Well, when people like me are... created, we're attached by a cord to our makes that gives us nutrients till we come out and that "hole" is where we were attached at."

Kreme touches your skin, eyes growing wider with every word. "That's so cool! I love learning more about you, Sweets. Human stuff was so boring when the others told me about them, but when it's about you I wanna listen all day... Wanna see mine?"

"Your what?"

Kreme laughs. "My hole, silly. It goes all the way through and I can put so many things in it. Frosting, jam, sprinkles. I love sprinkles - especially the ones you make me. Anyway, wanna see it?"

"Um...."

Not waiting for a reply, Kreme rolls up their tee and proudly presents the centimeters wide hole in the center of their chest. Crouching on your knees, you could see straight through it, and in at the softer wall of dough that made up their inners. By guessing, you estimated you could fit around three fingers in the hole with no problem. You try to shake the thought, but it keeps crawling back to mind.

"It really is a hole..." You reach out to examine the crater - having enough restrain to before your hand meets their skin.

"Yea!.. Stick your fingers in it."

You stumble on your feet and words - caught off guard by their sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Kreme smiles, directing one of your hands towards the entrace of their hole. "I want you - to put your fingers inside me. I can tell that you're thinking about it~"

Urged by their guiding hand and pleading eyes, you extend your index finger and slowly begin to insert it into their hole. The texture is akin to mashed cake as you imagined, but it's slightly more moist than pictured. Tearing an earlier theory you add another finger and push them both deeper, the walls of pastry around them contracting as Kreme whimpers - squirming, and even whining out as you pull back.

"Am I hurting you?"

Kreme shakes their head, grip alarming firm for someone of their kind. "No... no, no - it's just that whenever anyone else tries to touch my hole it's always a bit uncomfortable, but if it's Sweets.... If it's you, I'm okay with anything. Please keep going."

You didn't want to hurt them, but your curiosity had been peaked.

"Lemme know if any part of this bothers you and we'll stop, okay?"

Kreme nods as if they understand, but is too transfixed on your fingers as you add yet another and shove them all inside of them to utter more than desperate cries. Cold air kisses your fingertips as they fall out the back entry of their hole before being sucked back in. There's a little wiggling room, but not enough where you can't attempt to put in another digit. Kreme, noting your hesitant and dying to feel more of you looking around.

"Oh, oh - check out this fun trick I can do." Reaching over to the table, Kreme nabs the - tilting their head back as they swallow the frosting. Your fingers rooted in the tightness of their midsection run slick with cream as it slides down their throat, pouring out over your hand and onto the floor - spilling onto your apron and legs. Working as a lubricant, you successfully fit all fingers of your dominant hand in side of the pastry and out through the other side as their legs buckle, nearly giving out as they hover over you. You stand to help them upright and due to the building ache in your legs from your position. Kreme throws their arms over your shoulder, pushing with every pull and shaking as your hand stretches their hole wider. It'd close back to normal later on, but for now they revelled at the thought of having a permanent marker of your affliction on them. Tearing them up from the inside and leaving them starving for your attention whenever you close your doors for the evening. It too much. If only they could have one thing to be left with until the next day. One little thing to keep them going until the sun rose tomorrow.

"Sweets... Ah... deeper... I wanna feel you... always..."

As with all good things, their pleasure comes to an end to soon. You slide your hand out of their torso, allowing them to fall slack in your arms as they collect themselves. You subconsciously lick at the frosting coating your hand still in autopilot from closing shifts at your bakery, which in turn adds to their lightheadedness. You play coy to the kiss they sneak to your cheek as they stand on their own, gazing bashfully at the floor.

"Sweets?...."

"Yeah?.."

"I sorta lied when I said I never paid attention to things about humans... I know about various parts of their bodies and some of the urges... your kind gets... We really aren't so different if we really think about it."

You pause mid wipping your hands on your apron. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying the next time we do this I want your cream inside me instead. I don't want anything else than to feel you inside me - forever. It's the only thing that can make me truly happy. I never want to leave you so please don't leave me.

Kreme kisses your cheek again as they grab at the strings of your apron. "Just give it some thought. For now, I'll be taking this since I got it all dirty. Love you bunches, Sweets - bye!"

Loosening the tight knot, Kreme tears off your apron and waves it as their flag of triumph as they flee out the back door of the kitchen - leaving you alone to clean everything up.

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere candy #witch reader #Sweets witch

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burr-ell · 1 year

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I'll preface this by saying that I don't by any means begrudge anyone their own personal headcanons or interpretations, but I kinda have to get it off my chest that I'm personally not very comfortable with significant deviations from canon character design on CR, and I really tend to side-eye people who have declared their fanart to be "better".

And sure, some of that is because i'm a cranky old bastard. But some of that is that I also have an animation degree and have studied character design. Creators generally give artists a fair amount of input as to how they want their designs to connote the characters' personalities—not just in terms of clothing or hairstyle, but in the overall shape of the silhouettes and body structures. And in the case of CR in particular, that's coming from a place of much closer familiarity with the characters because the creator is actually going to be embodying them for a fairly long period of time, so when the fan response is heavy deviation from that, I think it can feed into some unhealthy fanon perceptions and projections.

Like, for example, it's not so much that I think fanartists are "disrespecting the creators" or whatever when they keep giving Imogen a sweet little round face and big hips/breasts and cute circular glasses, but I've also studied shape language in art. You're communicating something when you design her this way; if a character's silhouette has a lot of circles, visually that connotes being friendly, sweet, and cute. The person who first suggested drawing her with glasses explicitly said they thought it would look cute—and no shade to them! They can like whatever they want!

But canonically, Imogen is a woman in her 20s who's been dealing with unanswered questions, abandonment, loneliness, and sheer exhaustion from trying to hold back and control powers that she never asked for—and who simultaneously uses those powers even when it isn't necessary if she thinks it'll help her achieve a goal or prove a point. She isn't unfriendly, and she wants to do the right thing, but she's also someone who's consciously chosen to keep to herself for most of her life, and yet simultaneously she's quite adept at persuading and deceiving people. I think we're meant to pick up that sense of world-weariness and cynicism from her angular facial features and thin frame. That's...kind of just how character design works.

I think the trend of disregarding the official art and giving her softer features has had an impact on the perception of Imogen as a character. I see a lot of views of her that really remove a lot of her agency, treating her like she's only ever been a victim of circumstance who's never put a foot wrong. Some fans got pushback for pointing out that it really wasn't cool for Imogen to openly contemplate whether or not the Ruby Vanguard might be right in front of three people who were killed by Otohan, insisting that imogen was just dealing with a lot right then. And yes, she was, but that doesn't mean that the way she was dealing with it doesn't say something about her as a character. I don't know if I'd call it coddling, necessarily (even though perhaps there are some very coddling takes I just haven't seen), but there seems to be some resistance, in some circles, to the idea that Imogen isn't a put-upon martyr. And in those same circles, round friendly-looking glasses-wearing Imogen abounds, to the point of editing the official art itself to "fix it".

Truth be told I'd be willing to bet that the rounder cuter Imogen actually came about because of the initial impression of her, given how much fanon at the start of c3 revolved around poor baby Imogen with her scary nightmares needing the wiser, worldlier Laudna to comfort her and kiss it better, but those visuals also proliferated rather quickly and well beyond past the point where that fanon was feasible anymore, and I think both aspects of that fanon ended up informing each other. It's not lost on me that the rounder and cuter-looking Imogen performs the literal function of sanding down her harder edges.

And like I said, I'm not here to be needlessly negative toward what other people want to do. If you want to draw the characters differently to their official art, I don't think either the cast or the artist are especially offended by it. But I personally dislike it, in part because I think some of these trends are a way for fans to claim a certain amount of ownership over the characters, whether they intend it or not. And the ultimate outcome of that is that when creators inevitably assert their ownership over a deeply personal story in a way that fans don't like, the backlash is much stronger than it reasonably should be, which is something I think the CR fandom has seen often enough not to continue doing as often as it does.

#cr meta #critical role #cr discourse #cr wank #i think chubby jester vs skinny jester also falls into this #and don't get me wrong i 100% support representation of body types and the cast does too #but there's a certain amount of overlap between chubby jester and weird fanwanky c2 stans #it's. usually the folks who cling to fanon art interpretations who get the most angry at the cast when things don't go their way #like i don't have StatsTM or whatever to prove it but i've noticed some trends #also it's always the female characters and particularly laura bailey's characters who get hit with this attitude the most #like! just say you don't like a call laura made! i promise you no one's gonna call 911!

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user211201 · 5 days

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Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

#gay to straight #dumber #bottomtotop #nerdtojock #political #lib to con #preppification #unintendedresults #Christian

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fillinforlater · 1 year

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FEAR----

Male Reader x Huh Yunjin (ft. Chaewon)

Length: 2420 words

Tags: con-non-con kink, change in pov, piss kink, water sports, public sex, choking, gagging, a kinky robbery, humiliation, crying, name calling, missionary, messy make-out, all the bodily fluids, roleplay, dacryphilia maybe, misattribution-of-arousal-kink!Yunjin

TW: cnc kink, water sports (pee), (role)playing with fear

Inspiration: ffs, I have no clue why my brain comes up with these. Maybe I'm just insane? Or stupid? Or too horny for my own good?

(A/N: yeah, I think I will have to take a break after this. Something very different will come up next, but I still need time to write it lol, so please be patient. For those that love these kinks, you're welcome, I won't write them (especially water sports) often.)

"What are you thinking about right now?"

Chaewon’s quiet, tender whisper is calming like a cool breeze in blazing summer heat. It takes you out of your short trance, which you spent gazing at the ring on her finger. You look into her concerned eyes, then towards her blonde friend at the bar. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you set down the untouched cocktail.

"You know I like the idea," you start your rant, hoping it removes the uncertainty burdening your heart, "and I know you're completely fine with it. But the more I look at her—I just don't know if she knows what she really wants. You get me?"

"I think I do. Hmm,” Chaewon ponders for a second, caressing your palm, "Look, how about we ask her right now."

She turns around and with a wave of her hand she gets her friend's attention. The young woman quickly walks over, a bright, beautiful smile on her features. She stops next to your wife and straightens her postures when she looks at you. Before she can greet you, Chaewon whispers a long message into her ear. It makes her face sweaty and redder with each word.

"So," Chaewon loudly announces at the end of her explanation,"what are you thinking, Yunjin."

"I—"

Yunjin locks eyes with you. Her hands fidget, her upper body tenses up and her breath responds to her increased heartbeat. You can almost see the small muscle in her chest throb. She hesitates, even with Chaewon's reassuring smile and strokes on her back. Before you can speak up however, Yunjin's firm answer catches you by surprise:

"I still want it. I don't know what else to say, but I really want this and I don't care about the dangers."

"Alright," you respond blankly, though slightly in awe of Yunjin's clarity, "I appreciate your trust."

It's way past midnight when Yunjin leaves the area around the well-lit HYBE building to walk home. Dark, narrow corridors in between cold, lifeless concrete buildings are her choice, as she is eager to get to her flat quickly. Yunjin will always sacrifice a bit of lighting for effective short cuts. With her cell phone as a flashlight in one hand, her Louis Vuitton bag in the other, she confidently finds her way in this now well-known maze.

At night, she doesn't have to be extra careful about someone noticing her or the song she hums. An unreleased track, self-composed, with lyrics that have meaning to her and the other bandmates. At night, Yunjin is free to sing those words and feel a bit of burden fall from her shoulders.

A gentle breeze makes her blonde hair sway off of her shoulder and the loose jacket flies along with it. Yunjin has to stop in her tracks to adjust the leather garment. It's this time of the year where it's warm enough at night that you don't really need any extra clothes. However, each cold wind reminds Yunjin that it's good to have something on her. She can't allow herself to get sick.

It's also the time of the year where almost every night sky is littered with dazzling stars that dance on their designated spot, billions of miles away. It's a spectacle, each and every single one of them, so similar yet so different. The human eye cannot escape from this beauty, and Yunjin is no different. She stands there, star struck, the white lights dancing on her irises like it’s the parquet of a musical. Yunjin hums the melody to their performance.

The bushes behind her rustle once. A dark figure shots out from behind them like a lightning bolt. Yunjin gasps and quickly looks behind her shoulder to see a black ski mask right in her face. Her ensuing scream is muted by a cloth forced into her mouth. She tries to escape, but the person is just too fast. Yunjin is grabbed at the top of her dress and forcefully shoved into a nearby wall.

“Money?” the figure asks in a cold, rough tone. Yunjin tenses up when she feels freezing metal run up her exposed thigh. Her eyes tremble in fear, even more so her legs. She is only held upright by the man's hand and his leg trapping her in between dead concrete and death personified.

The man tears on Yunjin’s dress and groans angrily. Yunjin is too scared to test his patience, so she shakes her head. Her lips lose all their moisture to the cloth in her mouth, but maybe it’s just traveling to her eyes, to her sweat glands and down low.

“Not even in that bag? Not even at home?” the man continues to ask. He guides the metal object further up, right to Yunjin’s core. A few swipes on her bundle of nerves make the young woman burst out into tears. It’s certainly not a knife that he is holding. The death bringing object right on her most private part makes her flinch, head shaking rapidly.

The man grabs her face roughly. It’s like a slap he stopped as soon as he felt her skin. It reassures that the cloth won’t fall out of her mouth. The man groans once again. With small kicks against her shoes he forces Yunjin’s feet further apart. He then leans in right next to her ear.

“I know that you know what this is,” he whispers and presses his gun against Yunjin’s pussy, she wails, “and if you don’t tell me where the fuck I can get my money—tell me, or else.”

The flow of Yunjin’s tears is like an endless waterfall. Her hands are pleaing, begging, showing that she has nothing. No possession at hand, no money, maybe the bag is worth something, but the man does not seem interested in that. He wraps one hand around her gentle, fragile throat and slowly pulls out the gun from underneath her dress. She can look right into the barrel. There is a bullet waiting at the back, her name on it.

This is it. Everything inside her is building up to this moment. Her body reacts the only way it can, the only way it knows how to, the only way she wants to. Instead of the bullet hitting her, the man shoves his knee in between her legs and pushes up. Yunjin screams against the gag, her fingers dig into her attackers back as she starts to pee violently. The clear stream immediately soaks her thin white panties, then runs down her pale, goosebump covered legs and begins to soak her shoes and his pants. The dark spot seems invisible on his dark pants, but he definitely feels and hears Yunjin’s eruption.

“Bitch, what the—how dare you!”

The man pulls out his knee and closely watches as the last sprays of Yunjin’s pee cover the dry asphalt below. He doesn’t even notice the gag falling out of Yunjin’s mouth as she makes no attempts to scream for help. She feels like all her dignity is stripped from her and sobs uncontrollably. Snot and salt water with small hints of make-up mess up her beautiful face, but she doesn’t cover it up. She still holds on to the back of this cruel stranger.

“Bitch, you are crazy.”

“Pl-please d-don’t ki-kill me.”

“Shut up,” he snarls and presses his gun against her panties again, “slowly take them off, or else..”

Yunjin’s throat is dry. Her sobs begin to sound like croaks as she leans down and grabs the wet lingerie. In the most embarrassing performance of her lifetime, she drags down her panties, feeling her own clear, barely gold liquid on her skin. She steps out with one leg, then the other, and both times the man kneads her thighs for a short time. Another breeze flies through her hair, but this time she only notices it because of the freezing touch on her wet core.

“Wring it out. With one hand, right onto the street.”

Yunjin closes her eyes as she closes her fist around her panties. They worked like a sponge and now all of her piss shoots out of the gaps in her hand. She is mortified by how the warm liquid feels on her hand.

“Fuck, you’re insane,” the man says with awe and amusement and grabs Yunjin’s hair. He yanks her across the street, into the bushes where he came from. Behind them is a small patch of grass, where Yunjin is forced to lay down and spread her legs. She whimpers ‘no, no’ repeatedly, but the threat of the gun is right there, in his hand. Now it’s next to her head as he opens his zipper.

“Pl-please don’t,” she whispers and her fist forms tighter. It draws even more pee from her panties.

“What’s your name?” the man coldly responds, fishing out his hard cock.

“Yunjin.”

“Do you want to die, Yunjin.”

“No, please, no!”

“Then shut up—and do it again.”

Yunjin has no idea what he meant by this last statement. However, when he shoves his entire, surprisingly large cock inside her hot cunt, she doesn’t even remember it anymore. To pee in front of a stranger was pure horror, but this takes it to another level. If it weren’t for his hand on her mouth, not even the fear of death would have stopped her from screaming at this feeling. Pain, pain that feels great, fantastic, orgasmic even. Yunjin’s head begins to spin and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

“Hng, fuck,” the man groans and leans down to Yunjin’s face, “Yunjin, you’re fucking pretty. Great to have met you.”

A sinister laugh as he begins to bite the skin on her cheek and then on her shoulder. It’s not enough to leave marks, but definitely enough for Yunjin to feel something other than the cock hammering her pussy. It’s enormous size and width stretch her out more than any of her toys did before. Her flailing legs begin to go numb.

Suddenly, the man pushes his lip-sealing fingers into her mouth. He plays with her tongue, while hitting just the right spot inside her over and over. As she yelps, Yunjin comes to a shocking realization. The water on her face is not just tears, but also drools from the heavy pounding. Her mind becomes blank every now and then. It feels insane, better than anything she tried before. Something is building up in her lower regions and this filthy criminal gets her filthy pussy closer to another release.

“Do it again, Yunjin,” he huffs into her face while retrieving his fingers from her mouth again— “I know you’re a kinky slut. Do it, or else.” —and wraps them around her delicate throat. Simultaneously, he begins to make out with her drooling mouth and press down on her throat. Yunjin screams into his mouth. Her body has given up. It’s completely resigned to him, but her mind is tormented by the inevitable.

He hits the right spot, and her bladder is still so full. No, she can’t let it happen. She’d rather die and drown in her own spit and snot. It’s so humiliating, so bad, but at the same, her dopamine level has never been this high, it’s good. It will happen, it will happen, he just needs to tip her over, please tip me over.

“Or else. Now.”

The moment he stops fucking her tight cunt, Yunjin starts to piss again. A violent, clear stream erupts from her and she waters the grass and bushes around her like a gardening hose. Her hips buckle up, but she doesn’t feel his manhood anymore. She opens her teary eyes and sees the man's cockhead above her abdomen, unloading his warm, sticky semen all over the dress.

Gooey white and runny light-yellow still shoot out of their bodies, but the two are entangled in a sloppy kiss with no care for the mess they are making on each other and the grass below. This might be someone’s property and they will surely notice. Not that Yunjin really cares, as her tongue is thoroughly sucked on and her limbs feel numb from the pleasure filled violation.

Suddenly, he reaches for the pee-soaked panties in her firm grasp. He guides her pale legs together and forces the undergarment up to her still twitching pussy. Yunjin gasps at the sensation of stained, wet clothing forced upon her. She loves how he continues to rub his thumb on her now covered clit and stares at her face, stupid from his attack.

“Kinky slut. Now fuck off. No cleaning until your home. Or else.”

Quiet. Not a single sound. You’re able to close the door behind you without it creaking. Your wife will probably be asleep by now, but you want to make sure it stays that way. Carefully remove your shoes and sneak over the smooth tiles into the living room. Absolute silence. She is not here. Search in the kitchen, just a light humming of the refrigerator. There is no sound a human would make, until you reach the stairs.

Wet squelching and soft moans. They get louder with every step you take upwards. You decide to leave the mask on and move faster, still careful to not stir up attention. The sounds of self-satisfaction come from the playroom. Take a look inside and there she is.

Chaewon sits on the couch, panties around her ankles. Three of her fingers slowly move in and out of her pussy as she rubs her clit in circles. She throws her head back against the rest and the moonlight gives you a perfect view of her pleasure ridden face and closed eyes. The squelching gets louder and in between moans, Chaewon forms a clear sentence.

“Yes, fuck her like that. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Three quick steps and you’re right in front of the half-naked Chaewon. She pulls her fingers out in shock but you replace the emptiness of her hole with yours immediately after. Chaewon gasps as you lean closer to her and pump slowly.

“My wife is a kinky bitch.”

“Sh-shut up.”

“No, you shut up. Keep imagining it.

How I fuck your friend as she cries and screams. The way her body trembles while you look from the bushes. The way my cock pierces her pussy until she starts to pee all over herself.”

“Fuck!” Chaewon screams out and her body begins to shake.

“You like that? Then cum for me, Chaewon.

Or else.”

#kpop smut #male reader insert #girl group smut #female idol smut #le sserafim smut #yunjin smut #huh yunjin smut #male reader #male reader smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim yunjin smut

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rippersz · 8 months

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𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜: 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 (#1)

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Keep in mind: This is my personal view of Larissa Weems. If you disagree with any of my headcanons, then you’re WRONG. (That’s a joke; everyone is entitled to their own vision.) Enjoy.

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- Larissa’s go-to vice is a drink. Wine and coffee, mainly. She enjoys white wine like Moscato because it’s sweet, but if she’s in an angsty mood and wants something drier, she’ll shoot for red. Coffee is never taken black - there’s always at least two sugars and a bit of half & half. Not too dark, not too light. Had in the morning and with lunch. Hot chocolate is an indulgence when she needs to soothe herself.

- On the topic of drinks, Larissa doesn’t drink enough water. She knows it. Every year, at least one of her New Year’s resolutions is to drink more water. Does it happen? ….No. Although, she does keep a semi-full glass beside her bed to satiate that middle-of-the-night thirst. (Yes, she has tiredly knocked over the glass once or twice. No, she will not admit that.) Larissa also enjoys filtered water - she will avoid tap as much as she can.

- Is she a smoker? Nah. Maybe once or twice in her younger years, but she cares far too much about her appearance to form a habit. She reasons the scent will get in her hair and clothes and the effects will stain her teeth and ruin her lung capacity/health. She can’t go around smelling like a cigarette now, can she? However, if she’s ultra stressed and everything has gone to shit - she’ll either take one from a trusted colleague or close friend or buy a pack from a convenience store on a whim. It will be short lived, with one or two puffs coming out of it, before she’s stomping it into the ground and throwing the rest away (waste of money, yes, but it’s her way of punishing herself for even doing it in the first place.)

- That all being said, Larissa does have a secret attraction for those who smoke. It, admittedly, looks quite cool. Especially on the handsome/pretty punks of the world… so she’ll catch herself staring a bit too long before looking away. Some of them catch her eye and smoothly offer up a cig, but she never takes it. Attractive, handsome package, yes, but not very nice breath.

- And that’s another thing - Larissa absolutely loathes the prospect of smelling bad. She has breath mints in her desk drawer, Listerine strips in her purse, and a pack of gum in the Nevermore van. She’s a busy woman with many people to meet, so talking closely and with confidence is absolutely key - knowing her breath isn’t stellar immediately sets her off rhythm. It’s a similar thing for scent overall. People like those who smell good; especially when forced to spend hours working with them. So out of necessity and pure self-pleasure, Larissa has a small perfume collection. Though the brands and bottles are not terribly mainstream. She likes the light floral scents for work and professional outings, but for everything else, Larissa likes to spritz on a deeper, more masculine scent. Nothing too strong, but definitely a smell leaning more toward cologne. Hearing the ‘You smell good’ compliment - or any variation of it - has her smiling internally for the rest of the day. And of course, she keeps a small back-up roll on perfume (a good safe in-between scent) in her purse. She knows very well that she has to use all of the perfumes at some point, yet she cannot stop herself from buying at least one more. Call it a guilty pleasure. Safe to say, she smells bloody amazing.

- Larissa also has very steady hands. If you think that’s a weird headcanon, it isn’t. She was in the cake decorating club in her Nevermore days and found some therapeutic uses there. Getting lost in the designs- the swirls, the dots, the sweet icing- was a favorite pastime. The fact that her hands almost never shake (unless jostled) also helps when doing her makeup, typing, writing, etc.

- Of course she can just shift and put some energy into holding up a face full of makeup for an entire day, but she finds the process soothing. Doing it herself reminds her of her humanity and the little nuances that come with being a refined woman. She likes to darken her brows and line her lips and spend a minute or two perfecting certain things. For a woman who is self-critical, it is important (to her) that she tries to heal that side of herself by becoming better acquainted with her natural flaws. Call it a form of exposure therapy, as well as a calming exercise. Though on the days when she’s running extra late or is simply too tired/lazy to go through the process, she shifts into a simple but professional ‘non-makeup’ makeup look and calls it a day.

- Shifting too, has given her a few unexpected little advantages. One of the most prominent ones being the fact that she’s ambidextrous. She was originally born with a more dominant right hand, but as the years went by and she explored her ability, the occasional familiarity with left-handed people accelerated her use of that hand. Eventually, it left her with equal use and she’s able to perform tasks very well with both hands. Writing, balancing, exercising, etc. are done with about the same level of skill.

- Although Larissa’s sexuality is not clarified (or touched upon at all really) within the show, aside from her old attraction to Gomez (which I don’t fucking believe to be true but that’s neither here nor there), I do think it’s safe to say she could be pansexual. As a woman who has been surrounded by outcasts for quite a bit of her life, considering her Nevermore school days and her life as the principal, she’s been exposed to all types of beings. Larissa is not the kind of woman to be prejudiced or judgy or have a severe preference, so her attraction for others would not be found in one specific type of person. She may find herself going through spells of being more attracted to feminine-presenting people, just as she could experience a stretch of time in which she’s more into masculine-presenting people. If she’s interested in them, she doesn’t see why their gender-identity should matter so much to the point of it being a ‘make or break’ topic. She likes who she likes - simple as that. (Though that being said, I will still continue to ship her with non-binary/female characters/ocs/reader-inserts. Cuz why not.)

- Moving on, Larissa Weems is a sun sneezer. If she looks up at the sun or walks outside and it’s very sunny, or even if she peers at it through a window or sees its shine behind her eyelids, she will sneeze. And it’s not a big loud crazy sneeze. It’s one of those big inhale, eyes closed, stunted kind of sneezes where she sounds like a kitten. Small sneeze for a tall woman.

- Before being enrolled at Nevermore, Larissa was originally placed into the normie schooling system. It was rough and mean, but one good experience she got out of it was the swim team. Her stature, with the long limbs and broader shoulders, aided in her victories. The schedule and regiment was difficult, considering she had to practice and train nearly constantly, but the satisfaction she felt after winning was a glory she rarely felt when young. Her mother was… well. She was not nice. So she pushed young Larissa far more than she had any right to, but part of her older self thanks her mother for her efforts. Although it was just a swim team, she’s sure that without the discipline, she probably wouldn’t be so successful. And for as great as that time could be, it also came with its fair amount of trauma, so she doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t often like to think about it either. Though the swimming did change her body, giving her some toned muscle and better lung capacity.

- Larissa Weems loves slippers. So soft… so comfy… makes little shuffles on the floor… yes. Slippers.

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Going through a period of immense self-hatred, so I hope this can tide a few people over until I learn that applause does not equal self worth. Love you more than I can say and I hope you’re all doing well. - Rip x

(P.s. Please do let me know if you’d like more of these.)

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#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday larissa weems #headcanons #Larissa Weems headcanons #principal larissa weems #ripleysheadcanons #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x y/n

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gothellewoods · 11 months

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You know? Sometimes I'm bothered by the way fandom here addresses femininity in comic book characters, particularly the ones traditionally oversexualized. It's like the very aspect of femininity becomes linked to the hypersexualization, and therefore both must be eliminated together.

Now, I understand that butch/gnc women are starved for rep and I love seeing people draw or discuss their own interpretations or incarnations of a character. At the same time, it feels like a slap in the face to see a cool fanart with a caption about how "____ would never wear that gross outfit! Here's a better look". To look at a character and think "She looks cute! I'd love to draw/cosplay that" and see fanart of her where she looks completely different, pointing to her comic outfit saying, "this thing set feminism back 10 years!" It's annoying to see people take a character like starfire, canonically a supermodel, and condescendingly explain why their masc version is superior in the description of a cute fanart I wouldve otherwise reblogged!

I regularly see people on her discuss costumes in terms of the "male gaze" While failing to understand that the term describes narrative framing, not the outfit itself. People will look at the costume that I, as an ace woman, would wear and describe how it's designed to sexualize and appeal to men, how no woman would ever hear that, and how another outfit is better because it suits the "female gaze". Male gaze is how you frame a character, centering a panel on her ass or tits instead of her face. A very revealing outfit, or even a nude figure framed with respect and agency doesn't fall into this.

I've seen black canary or zatanna's fish nets "impractical", "uncomfortable", or "ridiculously oversexualized" as if those aren't standard dancers clothes, built for movement. Was I dressing impractically, or hypersexualizong myself when I was 16 wearing a leotard and tights in my dance performances? When I wore shorts and lacy fishnets outside because I thought it looked cute or fun?

There's this derision towards the feminine stemming from the remnants of tumblr's "I'm not like other girls" mentality that just bothers me immensely here. It's its own brand of internalized misogyny that I think people aren't even aware they're falling into. It's very possible to lift up different experiences of womanhood or gender without having to tear other people down at the same time, and some people on here need to learn that

#starfire #poison ivy #black canary #zatanna #misogyny #🌙#comics #dc #dc comics #marvel #elektra #harley quinn

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darklordsauron · 2 years

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I WATCHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF RINGS OF POWER (illegally) SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO:

I will list all the bad things and the good things of the first episode. Fair warning, I am right and those articles which calls this piece of steaming shit a masterpiece is wrong.

BAD THINGS-

The acting is sub par and so uncaring that it literally didn't feel like a real, just under a billion dollar, fantasy show based off of the legendary writing of J.R.R Tolkien.(Rest in peace, you deserve the world.)

Galadriel is a Mary-Sue (the perfect person. Everybody wants to be her, she is so 'cool' Rawr XD Uwu) and she is short despite being described in the books as taller than most elvish women and almost half of elvish men.

Elrond seems to have a crush on her and that just makes me nauseated.

Galadriel, if I should even call her that, wears the fëanorian star on every wardrobe item she owns it seems.

Actually, all the elves are the same height or even under it when compared to the humans.

The music sounds more like Game of Thrones than anything even remotely associated with LOTR.

The costume design in terrible. The material is cheap and plastic, they don't even try to conceal it. In one scene you can see that one of the background characters is wearing a black T-shirt underneath the clothes.

They barely say any of the characters' names (except Galadriel, which they repeat almost constantly). I had to google their names.

Brondir is the edgy warrior who is in love with the single mother (already forgot her name) who tries to help everyone around her.

The Harfoots, I also forgot all of their names, are the Hobbits of the second age and I hate the other main character whom comes from them. She is the relatable, clumsy character who is super curious. In other words, the most over used and predictable trope in all of film history.

They bring in new monsters/creatures that Tolkien never, ever wrote about. They probably needed these cliches to make the first episode more interesting.

The CGI sucks especially when Galadriel is climbing the glacier, icy, mounting thingy. The water is jelly and a piece of Valinor's sky literally clips out if you look really closely.

They jump locations every two minutes which gave me a headache and somehow the series is both fast and slow...AT THE SAME TIME!

There is really no heart in it. The entire thing was apathetic and simply lacked soul (because they sold their souls for money).

GOOD THINGS-

Gil-galad, his character actually looks canon and the actor is putting his heart into the performance thus making him the best.

The make-up of the orcs is simply beautiful. If only the rest of the series was.

Any scene with Sauron and the mentions of Morgoth is cool as it feels as if they have actual power in the otherwise boring show.

So far it sucks (no surprise there). I wanted to break my TV simply because their disrespect towards the source material is so obvious. Tomorrow my brain will have recovered enough to watch episode 2: Shit becomes shitier.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#lord of the rings #the rings of power #lotr on prime #middle earth #tolkien #lotr #lotr amazon #fuck amazon #j.r.r. tolkien #i hate it thanks #amazon is a mosquito #the silm #galadriel #the mary-sue #the first episode was terrible #literally the worst #my brain is fucked #why

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zee-stars · 10 months

Text

The ego's giving you their sweaters

Includes: Actor Mark, Darkiplier, Yancy, Illinois, Space Mark, Damien, Heist Mark, Date Mark, Wilford

Actor Mark:

He forced you to wear one of his sweaters. He would hide yours just so he could give you one of his.

He is a jealous prick so he definitely likes you wearing his stuff so people know you are his.

I feel like his would be the most comfortable cause he would spend all his money just to make sure he could give you the best.

Tbh his would smell like makeup wipes and strong expensive calone cause he would pour that shit on there.

Overall 9/10 cause at least the smell would last long 🤷‍♀️

Darkiplier:

Tbh he probably doesn't have very many hoodies.

The only one he owns is probably a plain black one that's kinda worn down.

But like say one day you're cold and complaining about it and he just throws it at you and is like "stfu"

Warm on the inside, soft fabric on the outside 👌👌

I think its an overall 10/10 cause idk its just perfect.

Yancy:

I think he probably only have 1 hoodie cause he is in prison but he also like owns the place... so he could probably get more if he needed too.

But like he has one that is his og one. I think its like black and has some cool design on it that's kinda worn down cause he's had it so long.

It smells exactly like him and he likes to wear it for comfort. But he would easily give it to you.

One day your complaining that it's cold, next minute his giving you the sweater.

Its super comfy and also smells exactly like him so def 10/10

Illinois:

Man has one sweater and it is almost disgusting.

You saw him wear it once on a colder night. It was covered in stains, small holes everywhere and stitches. It doesn't smell bad and it felt soft when you touched it.

One night you and him are under the stars and you are freezing. to the point your shaking. He sees you by the fire all wrapped up in a blanket and he takes off the hoodie and gives it to you.

Claims that he's a big boy and doesn't need a sweater to keep him warm

Five minutes later hes clinging to you wrapped up under a blanket and as close to the fire you can be without burning.

8/10 cause the stains.

Space Mark:

Tbh if he saw you in his hoodie he would probably faint.

Its not so much a hoodie it's more like a jacket. Like yk those sports team type jackets, if you dont google it and i'll make sense.

Anyways its amazing, kinda fuzzy on the inside and it has like patches on it of things he likes. Stars, planets, chica, etc.

He doesn't wear it often cause he is usually in his space uniform.

But one night you and him are enjoying a nice sunset together (after the events of iswm) and he notices you shiver.

So he runs back to his room and comes back with two cups of coffee and his jacket.

It smells like him, has coffee and some grease stains on it. Very comfy and a little big.

10/10 love it.

Damien:

This is before wkm obv

He has like an entire closet section just for sweaters and hoodies

one day you're spending the evening at his place. during dinner Damien was his usual clumsy self (he def was) and spilled something on you. You ask to use his shower and had forgotten to pack an extra set of clothes.

So he offers you some of his. He gives you a hoodie and sweatpants that match and let me tell you. That is some of the comfyist shit you're ever gonna wear

I just feel like he is the master of comfort and just always has the comfyist clothes.

10/10 for my boy dames

Heist Mark:

Im like imagining the most detailed scene rn

Like yk when you choose the car in the heist and you fall asleep and he makes you breakfast?

that but the night before when you're falling asleep you get cold and he gives you his sweater and you're like "where tf did you get this?" but put it on anyway.

its honestly pretty comfy and keeps you pretty warm. He also secretly loves seeing you in his hoodie (remember this is right before he asked you on the date ;)

9/10 prob a basic ass hoodie but comfy and warm, serves its purpose.

Date Mark:

Another very detailed scene

we aren't gonna be basic and have it be during the movie no no, it's gonna be during the vanilla ice cream ending.

You and him are eating ice cream together and it makes you cold. So what else would a gentleman like him do than give you the jacket he was wearing.

tbh not super comfy, its part of a suit :/

so like... 6/10? it was nice of him but not comfy or warm so...

Wilford:

Come on guys yk i wouldnt forget about my little willy would you?

Tbh he has the best hoodies 1000%

He rocks the pink and all of his hoodies are pink and they look amazing!!

Also they def smell like cotton candy or some other sweet.

(they might also have a few blood stains but who cares)

anyways.... imagine you and him go out to a party or something.

some dumb guy spills a drink on your and wilford just like pulls out a hoodie randomly and like takes you to the bathroom to put it on

side note no one ever hears from that guy again but like...... thats totally unrelated...

but its comfy, smells good, looks good, 100000/10 fr fr

wilford is simply the best

I hope you enjoyed this and im def down to write more things like this if anyone has any ideas!! my request are always open

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Text

Modern HOTD NSFW Headcannons

Contains: Jace, Daemon, Aegon, Aemond

Word count: 606

Warnings: smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Jace

Doesn’t understand hook-up culture

Blushes like a virgin at his crush/partner making sex jokes in public

Type of guy to get a towel to sit beside the bed before starting for easy clean up later

Also has tissues and water on the bedside for after

Gets turned on by people wearing his clothes

Got worried when you asked for lube but quickly learned he didn’t need to be

Proceeds to buy 5 bottles of different flavours

Would buy flavoured condoms

Has lived with so many people he’s learned to be quiet

Goes on hikes just to fuck in the forest cause to him that’s privacy

Irl dirty talk can be hard for him but on the phone?

Mastermind at making you squirm from across the country

Got very scared by kinks at first

Now a fiend

Constantly googling aftercare tips and how to dirty talk

Watches those youtube videos about how to kiss

Whenever he’s drunk he’s a proud horn dog

Brags about giving oral

Aftercare king

Daemon

Has a designated kink drawer

Possibly a straight up sex room

Organises his ropes by colour and preference

When he sexy talks irl its amazing

On the phone its great

He cannot dirty text

He uses way too many emojis or his promises don’t work without the voice

He has mastered the voice

Each gift giving occasion is accompanied by him buying you new lingerie

Every birthday he asked for the same thing: sex

Defiantly talks in online kink forums

Goes to poly clubs and swingers parties

Teaches everyone who listens about poly lifestyle

Under his sex toy drawer is a after care drawer

Tinder fanatic

Gets an STD text every other month

Is on a first name basis with a testing clinic

Considered being a porn star

Aegon

Condom king

Hands them out at every party he goes to

Constantly preaching about safe sex since sex is his favourite hobby

Tider is his most used app

Will fuck in the library, his brothers bed, or in a car

Car sex is his favourite

Blow job fanatic

Did a blow job shot for his bday with his whole family watching cause he doesn’t care

Too lazy for most kinks but knows how to find the clit

Loves ball play

Constant ball jokes however

Secret bottom who will have a meltdown when you call him one

Definitely keeps himself very trimmed down there

Makes everything an inuendo

A proud whore

Nude fanatic

His snapchat my eyes only is filled to the brim

Ends up in a poly relationship for like a year but eventually bows out of it

Aemond

Too deep for tinder but not for random hook-ups

Also not for only fans

Because he has one and is making bank off of it

Was ashamed at first till he used the money to buy a car

Wants to make enough to be a sugar daddy

Daddy kink 100%

Has a sex toy drawer and wide lube range

Takes cinematic level nudes

Still has a small stash of porn mags since he prefers it that way

Best gift for him is making a sex tape with his partner

Seriously considering becoming a striper on the side

Has a couple of fuck buddies on rotation rather than a new person every week

Has a mini fridge stocked with water by his bed to cool down after

Constantly researching new kinks

Has a spit kink

Runs his own nsfw reddit sub reddit

Makes thirst traps on tiktok

Asked his family for a hot tub for his joint birthday and Christmas gift just to fuck in it

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

Text

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 1.7k words, 1/?? chapters

Summary: At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Ao3 | [Ch2] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

An elf’s reverie is a time of introspection, of connecting to your former selves and their lives, and ultimately learning from them for your new life. When an elf enters this deep trance, the entire world falls away, and memories both good and bad come to them as if in a dream. It’s not always a pleasant experience, but it is often considered a necessary experience for elves to reach full maturity. After 100 years of reliving your past, you are finally acknowledged as a true adult, allowed to forge your way into the world in your new life.

You knew from a young age that you had lived some interesting lives. You received snippets of them each night, and awoke from your trance trying to decipher what each bit could mean, who the people were, which lives might have belonged to you. You found it a fascinating puzzle to solve– you also had the sneaking suspicion you didn’t always like puzzles.

The oddity of a new life is that you aren’t the same person. Of course not. You’re currently being raised by two well-to-do, doting parents living in Neverwinter. You don’t need a lot of memories to know that this is by far one of the most pleasant starts to life you’ve had. In this life, where you weren’t searching for your next meal or living on the streets, you’ve found the capacity to love puzzles.

When your memories suddenly decide to hand you a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, it throws your new life for a loop.

You’re 12 years old, quite used to your nightly reveries now. Your parents have lovingly laid you to rest, and you eagerly enter your trance, ready for another clue about your past selves.

Eyes closed, world shut out, you access tonight’s memory easily.

The first thing you notice is the scent of the ocean. Its smell is a mixture of brine and fish, not unfamiliar to you. Along with the smell, you feel the cool breeze tickling your skin, blowing your hair just within your field of vision.

You feel taller than your current self, older, and bigger. You’re not sure how old you are, but you know that you’re an adult. Despite this, you’re unable to decipher much else.

Reliving a memory is nothing like real life. You can’t control your body, no matter how much you wish you could, you can find yourself coming in and out of these memories, and you can’t force yourself out of a memory once it’s started– it’s all out of your control.

So, as much as you’d like to learn more about your past-self, they’re currently preoccupied. Walking up this winding path, a rocky outcropping with some barren trees and shrubs, they seem to have a clear destination in mind: a figure at the top of the hill.

They approach the person carelessly, as if nothing in the world could be a danger to them– you wonder if they’re more powerful than some of your other lives. You can tell someone is in tow, but clearly you trust them because you don’t turn around to look.

You reach the figure, a silver-haired elf. He’s strikingly pale, wearing impeccably designed clothing that seems out of place for where you’re finding him. His stance is cautious, ready for anything. Most surprising to you are his eyes, a rich red, and they dart between the bushes and you.

“Hurry! I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” The voice is breathy, masculine, with an accent a bit different from your own. You can’t quite place it, as you’ve never left Neverwinter, but you think you’ve heard it in other lives’ memories. “There, in the grass. You can kill it can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

You feel your own emotions spark at his question, at once alien and familiar, and a surge of confidence radiates through you. “Easily, stand back.” The voice for this life is new to you, but it’s clearly very self-assured. You wonder what the ‘brain thing’ could be to warrant such certainty.

The memory cuts out–not a new occurrence, and your parents explained that lapses in memory could happen around moments of severe emotion as a natural protection. However, when it cuts back in, you’re overwhelmed by the amount of shock and fear coursing through you. You’re on your back, staring up at the same clear blue sky. A flash of silver glints just under your chin, and, as your former-self looks down, you see a knife pressed to your throat.

You feel your limbs struggle, but the way his legs are wrapped around you, the way he’s leveraging his body weight, you find that you’re unable to get up. Panic rises in your throat as you wonder if this might be your first death. You didn’t realize you could experience death at such a young age– usually this was reserved for your later years of reverie. I’m not ready for this, you think, as you feel both of your body’s hearts pounding in their chests.

“Shhhh,” the man, who is now pinning you to the ground, all but tuts. “Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” His head cranes up, to someone you can’t see. His face and tone shift to something angry as he growls, “And you– Keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need them alive. Stow that blade or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.” The voice is feminine, their accent matches this man’s.

“Promises, promises,” he says with a nonchalance that irks at you. “But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

His attention turns back to you. “Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” the elf continues, his tone is taunting you, knowing he has the upperhand. His next word is a command, “Nod.”

Present-day you, the 12-year-old that just wants to live, wills yourself to nod, to acquiesce to this insane man’s demands and see another dawn. However your past-self has other inclinations.

Without so much as a word, they headbutt the man. Hard.

You feel the force of it nearly jolt you out of your trance, but you hold on, willing yourself to see if you make it out of this alive.

The man grunts as he rolls off of you. “Argh. You wretched little–”

Then your mind is wracked with pain, with flashes of memory that you can’t place. A previous life? You’re not sure. But after the sting of your heads colliding, this strain is too much for your mind to bear. Your vision teeters, hanging on by a single thread, all that’s left are that man’s intense red eyes.

You emerge from your trance with a shaky breath. You reach for your throat, as if to make sure that it’s still in one piece, only to find it coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

What was that, you think. One thing is for sure: it was quite possibly one of the most vivid memories you think you’ve had yet. The smells, the sensations, the emotions – all of them still linger.

You don’t like it.

Tears begin spilling down your face, an unwelcome reaction to the fear that seems to rest just under your skin, uncomfortable and chilling. Your hands feel like someone else’s, and looking at them shake involuntarily is just about enough to bring you to a breaking point. “Who– who was that?” you get out, to no one in particular.

Verbalizing it helps to soothe your turbulent emotions, look at this logically. Okay, I must have felt quite strongly in that lifetime. You nod to yourself, wiping away tears with a few trembling fingers. More importantly, what did I learn?

You think back to the memories, willing your mind to push past the fear. You met this man. You don’t know who he is, or what he wanted, but he seemed to be armed and dangerous. You had a companion. You don’t know who they were either, but they seemed to be ready to kill for you.

The exercise calms you considerably, and only leaves you with more mysteries than solutions to your puzzle. What ship was he referring to? What was the ‘brain thing’? Whose memories had flashed through your head?

You shake your head, no, no, none of those likely matter. If there’s one thing your memories have taught you is that specific events are in the past– there’s no use trying to piece it together like a history book. Likely nothing you did was worthy of a history book anyway. What you need to know would be infinitely more useful: who were you?

You’d been confident, unshaken despite the fear pulsing in your body. You’d faced that terrifying man as if he were just another inconvenience, one that you were thoroughly fed up with.

You don’t know much of your former selves but you know that you want to be that. You don’t want to cry when faced with certain death. You want to headbutt it.

Years pass, and you work hard at training in the arcane arts, finding comfort in books and wizardry. You wonder if that will be enough to keep you safe in this life, safe from people like that silver-haired madman. Every time your will falters, you remember that memory and study harder. He becomes a figure in your mind of the dangers of the world, of something to fuel your fury when it begins to burn low.

He’s nothing more to you than that silver-haired man for more than six years, as that particular lifetime of memories seems to lay dormant. Your parents have explained this to you before: you can’t control which life’s memories come to the forefront. To many, it seems arbitrary. To you, it feels like your mind is defending you. As if it realized you aren’t ready for that particular part of your past. Or perhaps it just knows that your hatred for this fair-haired elf may take over your current life.

The next time you’re visited by a memory of this pale elf, you find that the emotions he elicits are far from hatred.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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