#Accounting Clean up and Catch Up Services

[eatommo]

Father Figure [j.m.]

Summary: A shower and DBF Joel "pussy drunk" miller, no plot here. No outbreak/preoutbreak

A/N: Can be read as a stand alone but is a true sequel to Kisses of Fire. Heavily inspired by @absurdthirst and @wardenparker 's Marcus Moreno soulmates fic that I devoured in an all-nighter. Not beta'd all mistakes are my own

c.w: age gap, dub-con due to alcohol, showering together, pet names, oral sex (both recieving), pinv, creampie, food play (he drinks champagne off her pussy), overstimulation, service dom vibes, daddy kink and attached daddy issues, probably missed some lmk!

It wasn't fair. Joel had magic hands when it came to woodworking and tiling, hell you've even seen him work magic at a claw machine, but how was he better at washing your hair?  Every ounce of tension fell out of your muscles, and the cool water washes away the sweat and sticky traces from your thighs.  You keen into his fingertips, leaning back into the warmth of his body and letting yours rest against the plain of his chest.

He hums, and you feel the vibration of it echo in your own content noises, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy,  “Sweet little thing.” You blush, feeling a little shy, which should be ridiculous, but you feel as if he's doting on you, every bit of his attention is working out every knot of tension in your body that you didn't even know existed.  

He steps forward, urging your head back under the water as he washes the soap away with tender touches.  The smell of his soap in your hair is almost overwhelming, and you still feel the ache of being filled by him, by all accounts your brain should be returning to its rightful place right now but all you can think about is how skillfully and hungrily he consumed you.  

You felt dizzy, and the lingering traces of the alcohol were burning off. “I think I could go for another glass.”  You look at his eyes in earnest, hoping to see some sort of reflection of how your heart is swelling in your chest.  

“Already ahead of you baby, I put it and two glasses in the freezer for when you're finished.”  His words are warm, and comforting, as if sensing what you're craving from him.  

You crack a smile, standing on your toes to kiss the hollow of his throat and to your surprise, there's a strangled sound that comes from beneath your fingertips.  It's a groan.  Halting your movements, you stay there, hovering, and watch as he swallows harshly.  

Tauntingly you let the tip of your tongue trace up the column of his throat and he turns to iron in your grasp, “Mr. Miller.” you tsk, the shift in power bolstering each small syllable, “A weakness.” You run the flat of your teeth against his skin, and you feel a shutter rumble through his body in a subtle confirmation.

He tries to play it off, a small rumble of laughter as he runs conditioner through your hair with his fingertips, combing it through the ends of your hair. His cock is half hard just from feeling your mouth on his throat as it rests against your belly, water passing between the two of you as you finish up the dance of sharing his modest shower space. 

Your body should be tired, and admittedly your legs are weaker with each step but you couldn't be more aware of each passing lingering touch as his hands soothingly run up your back coaxing your body to follow and obey. 

By far the most beautiful thing in the room is Joel.  His chest is flush and glistening with droplets of water that fall from his clean, tousled hair and runs down his work-sculpted chest.  

He catches you staring and tilts your chin up to look into his deep brown eyes, “Like what you see baby?” he's being smart with you, and yet you can't find the words to form a retort.  His hand grips your jaw firmly, and he leans down for a kiss. 

His mouth is warm, his tongue languidly swiping across your teeth bringing an embarrassingly loud moan out of you as you enjoy the taste of him and the skimming brush of his thumb on your pulse that all but turns your bones to jelly.  You forget that he even asked you a question until he breaks the kiss with a laugh that sends a shiver down your spine.  “And to think I’m not even done with you yet.”  

He lets his hand move to the back of your head and buries his fingers in your hair and gives a gentle testing tug, you do your best to hold his gaze as he peers into your eyes, you let out a confirmational hum.  With a single glance, he communicates what you’ve wanted since he took his pants off, and he holds your head steady as you sink to your knees.  The tile is warm from the wash of the water, and he shields you from the shower head as you admire his massive semi-hard cock.

You rest your hands on your thighs, resisting the urge to start touching yourself as you kitten lick over a vein that catches your attention, you see the steady throb build as he gets harder beneath your tongue.  You suck the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly as it pulsates against your tongue and his hand tightens in your hair.  You suck more of him into your mouth, swirling around the head and swallowing around him, eager to please and be good for him.  

“That's my girl.” he coos, bringing his other hand to your cheek, caressing it gently but urging you to take more of him all the same.  God, you’re half convinced the man could talk you to an orgasm, his praise wraps around your body like a vise, luring you into a headspace you’ve only experienced tonight.

He jerks his hips, pitching them forward and deeper until he’s nudging the back of your throat.  Tears prick at your eyes, as your jaw begins to ache with the stretch, you find your hands drifting closer to the insistent twinge of your clit begging for his attention again.  The hair at the base of his cock is sparse but it tickles your nose as you reach your breaking point, coughing and sputtering around him.  You use the flat of your tongue to massage the underside of him while he fucks into your mouth.

He grunts as he keeps thrusting a few more times, you taste the salt of his precome on your tongue and he slides out and you gasp for air and swallow the excessive amount of drool pooled in your mouth.  The strings of spit connecting the two of you might just be one of the hottest things you've ever seen. He gives you a lopsided grin, swiping a thumb over your chin, “Messy, messy little girl.”  His voice is deep, hoarse with need and debauchery.  

The shower is off and he pulls you to your feet, wrapping you in a plush towel that's warmed from the steam-filled room.  He places a soft kiss on your forehead and you hum contentedly, recovering from the lack of oxygen and the dizzying weight of his cock in your mouth.  You lean against the cool counter of the sink, running his brush through your hair in an attempt to keep from staring at him, but he settles behind you and slides his cock against your ass as he pins you to the counter.

You can vaguely make out the shape of his body behind yours in the fogged surface of the mirror, mixing together with the beauty of a mosaic painting. He is standing tall as his dark hair falls to tickle your ear as he kisses along the curve of your shoulder.  His mouth is delicate, but the edge of the counter digs into your flesh, you're finding yourself hoping it bruises, as he continues to press his skin to yours.  

He lets a rough palm run from your belly between your breasts and uses it to tilt your head back, kissing the sensitive skin on your throat with a gravelly contemplative hum at your back.  “Go sit, I'll bring up something to drink, hungry?” 

His hand is heavy and calloused, sitting on your throat, the gesture is dominant, and you feel so small and so pliant under his grasp. But the warmth and tenderness between your legs doesn't argue, and your lips are still swollen from the stretch of him in your mouth. You feel a deep satisfaction, heavy like the possessive yet caring touch of his hand guiding your mouth along his shaft.  

“No,” You try and sound confident, but your voice is hoarse and you're beaming at him with a fucked stupid grin on your face, and it comes out a simple squeak.  

Joel smiles down at you softly, running his thumb along your jaw.  The adoration is plain on your face, unmistakable.  You’ve seen him with this look hundreds of times but there’s something about the moment and the intimacy of this, the low-revving engine of your lust that’s almost as palpable as the steam on the mirror.  

He never fails to make you feel special.  His mouth finds your forehead for a lingering but gentle kiss, a promise to return.  He leaves the room tying a towel around his waist, and you let your eyes linger on the flexing cords of muscles in his back as he shuts the door behind him.  

Doing your best to collect yourself, you run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath, using his surprisingly plush towel to tousle your hair as dry as you can manage, before draping it around yourself and securing it above your breast.  

His room is much cooler, but the heat beneath your skin is unstoppable and your body is still as alive as it was with his cock down your throat.  The bed is disheveled, you find a place among the scattered pillows and prop yourself upright, pulling a book off of his nightstand to skim over the description on the back.  

Soon you hear his footsteps on the stairs, he knocks gently on the door before nudging it open carrying two champagne flutes. He settles in next to you, and you saddle up next to him, pressing your hip to his, the urge to be close to him almost overwhelming.  

You take a sip, letting the sweet bubbly liquid settle in your mouth for a moment, washing away the salt of his skin.  You nuzzle your head on his shoulder in affection, feeling both spent and keen on finding out what's next. 

 His hair slicked back makes his deep brown puppy dog eyes even more dreamy as he beams down at you before taking a sip from the glass.  You stare at his hands and the delicate way the veins and tendons flex to hold onto the stem of the glass, swallowing around the lump in your throat.  

“Something I can give ya?” He notices, because of course he does.  You shift, throwing your legs over his lap, and taking another swig from your glass, determined to finish before you give in to your incessant need to be filled by him again.  

You hum, faking being contemplative, “I’m not sure, what else might you offer?”  Playing coy has worked before, but something in his eyes seems hungry, and it stirs something like fear in your belly.  

He holds your gaze, taking a long tauntingly slow sip even letting his tongue sneak out to tease the rim of the glass, “You have no idea baby.”

Instantly you're flooded with flashes of what he could possibly be alluding to, you imagine yourself pinned beneath him, straddling his face, even on your knees for him again.  You've never felt so incredibly giddy over a teasing phrase.  Hoping that there is a promise in his words, and that every little passing ache of potential is just a preview of what's to come. 

He sees it plain as day on your face, eyes glazing over and the curves of an insidious smile twisting your mouth into a lopsided grin.  He wishes he could read your mind, but he settles for running his hand across your abdomen, trailing over the sensitive and admittedly ticklish flesh just to feel you squirm beneath him.  

You take a sip from you glass in an attempt to still your voice before you speak, shifting your hips below his warm touch.  You know what you want, and he is just as privy to your needs, “Use your words, darling.” Another sip, and he presses his lips to the shell of your ear,  “Be sweet for me baby tell Daddy what you want.” 

“Your mouth, please Joel.”  you rush, too aware of your body’s reaction to his touch.  He pulls the towel free of your chest, and takes a nipple between two fingers and tugs until it's tight and you feel a hint of pained arousal. You whine correcting yourself, “Please, daddy.” 

He lets out a small groan, the sound enough to make your clit throb for his attention.  “Good girl.”  He moves between your legs fluidly, the final sip of alcohol stirring in the bottom of the glass as he settles, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed and settling on his knees.  He takes the towel you were wearing, gesturing for you to lift your hips as he arranges the towel beneath you.  

You let your head fall back against the sheets, expecting the warmth of his mouth.  Instead, you feel the ice-cold bubbles of his last champagne sip dribbling gently over your pussy, jumping at the cool sensation and the juxtaposition of his flat tongue swiping up the length of your sex.  He moans against you as the taste envelops his thoughts and he loses himself in the sweet taste of you.  He drags his tongue over your entrance, and swirls over your clit in long, practiced movements.  Every second that passed your body was tensing, building to yet another climax in such a short amount of time your legs start to shake.  

You almost miss the chuckle that escapes him, as he sucks harshly on your clit and your vision starts to ebb white, but he stops just a second short. “Did I make your little legs quiver?” You can’t find it in you to pick up your head off the bed.  

He laughs.

The sound is deep, and throaty, and you can feel it reverberate in your bones as he crawls over you, his face wet from his efforts. He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, his eyes bright and playful.

The slide of his thick cock is tantalizing, your brain is telling you to stop but the throb of him against you and the warmth of his breath against your neck is encouraging you to take him. To be his good little girl. 

His hips stutter as he buries himself inside you, your body giving a small jump when he bottoms out without warning. He groans loudly, pressing his forehead into the crook of your neck.

"Such a good little thing.." His words are slurred slightly, his mind drunk on lust and alcohol. He's so hard and thick and you can barely breathe. Your nails claw into the flesh of his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, wanting to feel the weight of him on top of you both overwhelming and comforting at the same time. 

Your eyes flutter shut, his praise and his cock lulling your brain into a blissful fog. Your cunt grips his shaft and he lets out a low hiss.

Joel moans, burying his face into your hair, his breath coming in short pants.  His thrusts are slow and deliberate, dragging the thick head of his cock across every inch of your walls.  He stays like that, pushing and pulling in and out of you. He fucks you with abandon, his pace quickening as he chases his own pleasure.

Your mind is fuzzy and your eyes are unfocused. You don't know if it's the alcohol, or the fact that Joel's cock is currently splitting you open, or maybe it's the fact that you just don't give a fuck anymore, but everything just seems so right.

It's as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.  "You feel so fucking good."  His fingers grip the sheets and the muscles in his forearms ripple as he fucks you.  

“Make yourself cum,” His thrusts are frantic, and his pace is practically begging you to comply.  Scrunching your face in concentration, a few little overstimulated whimpers earn you more words of encouragement.  “Cum all over me darlin.” 

It's the most you can do to hold on as the coil inside of you tightens impossibly. The friction of him sliding inside of you is too much and not enough all at the same time.  

He finds your chin and pinches it roughly, directing you to look into his eyes as he orders you to touch yourself. You do as you're told fingers snaking in between your bodies to find your swollen and abused clit.  He grins as he sees your eyes roll back in your head and you come with a shout, his name on your lips.

Joel’s body starts to shake as his words evolve into primal grunts and groans.  Your pussy is spent and the sweet smell of your release hangs in the air as he uses your limp body for his pleasure.  

He calls to you as he cums, praising your body and plunging as deep as he possibly can as his cock pulses and empties inside of you. The room spinning and your ears ringing, his body sags on top of yours, his forehead pressed to yours as you place an exhausted kiss to the small patch of skin in his beard you’ve always been fascinated with. 

You lay together catching your breath, your body slowly starting to feel the soreness between your legs and the dull throb of multiple orgasms that leaves your body feeling weightless and heavy at the same time. 

[raggedytiger]

ragatha/agatha and pomni/penny human hcs!

(r)agatha:

is an english teacher!

yes she still loves horses. she used to ride them, & she loves old western movies.

owns cowboy hat and boots.

analytical and loves long & winding conversations.

has a very happy cat named sandwich.

patches her own clothes, doesn't have kids but if she did she would embroider their names into their belongings.

she still plays cello, she loves music in general, probably sings like an angel.

can't do any mathematics.

can drive, but like a lunatic. somehow has never had an accident though, so it's fine.

probably has a cute little baby blue/yellow car now, but definitely had a beat up offroader truck at some point that got put to good use. or maybe she still does, i'm not the boss.

total lesbian, a bit of a heartbreaker but not intentionally (women just keep falling for her)

goes to town/neighbourhood/community meetings. likely is/was in a knitting circle

absurd number of quilts in her home

pomni/penny:

is an accountant as we know, and cannot cook for shit as we know.

no pets she can barely take herself for walks. is more similar to a cat, but had a dog growing up. would love a collie or a dalmatian probably.

would name the dog something stupid like Thermometer Johnson.

she can drive, but nervously.

really quick thinker, like impressively, unless she's under HUGE amounts of stress. is literally always thinking at 100mph.

no sense of interior decor or personal style. all practical, kind of butch. really does kill a suit.

very much lesbian but not fully to terms with it. probably had short-lived relationships with men in which she was 'content' but didn't really care for it. seeing agatha as agatha for the first time was probably a crazy punch to her little gay heart. not to mention the cowboy gear.

autistic

watches 90s anime to wind down

listens to every single genre of music. passes a lot of time with headphones in, slowly making her way thru the entire world's discography

owns no band merch or anything though she just listens

can't sleep without a fan on, thunderstorm 12hr audio, blackout curtains, weighted blanket, water nearby

does not sleep a lot

both of them (going to call them pomni and ragatha for convenience):

didn't immediately recognise one another. i havent got an exact idea of how they reunited after getting out, but there were tears.

bonded in a very rare and unique way - they got to revel in the newfound joys of real life again. they got to eat delicious food, go on long, unobstructed walks in the real sun, be warmed by it, chew on ice cubes and shiver at the pain, listen to each other's heartbeats, listen to real music, read real books, smell soaps and flowers and sauces. they went to the supermarket together and read all the labels, and bought one of each type of fruit to try between them, and smelled all the candles, and touched all the blankets. spent a lot of time holding hands and kissing and i'm sorry to say, probably having sex, because holy shit, i'm real, you're real, we're real

now live together in ragatha's apartment, after pomni moved out of her small and confusingly-furnished flat.

both of them feel inadequate from time to time. this is resolved by a stern-but-loving talking-to.

sandwich likes pomni very much. pomni doesn't really get cats, but loves sandwich a great deal, and enjoys letting her sleep on her lap.

ragatha is very pleased to see her girls getting along.

ragatha cooks, pomni chops the veg. she often doesn't fuck it up

pomni cleans a lot as a 'thank you for letting me live here, i love you'. she's very much acts of service, ragatha is words & physical touch <3

they watch a lot of movies together. depending on how long they've been stuck, they might have culture to catch up on

ragatha wants to have a house with a garden one day. pomni starts germinating seeds from their fruit & veg like a weird science experiment. ragatha is delighted when she is presented with a baby tomato plant.

clothes are shared. ragatha's are bigger, but most of pomni's are ill-fitting anyway so it can go both ways. ragatha likes to dress pomni up in different outfits and have her do a little fashion show. pomni pretends not to savour the confidence boost.

pomni starts sleeping more

[y3ager]

STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

[vampirehoon]

bathroom tiles ࿔*࿐⋆

w.c. ⟢ 1.4k

pairing ⟢ yeonjun x afab!reader

synopsis ⟢ a party in which you dragged your other half, yeonjun, and find yourself finding peace and quiet in a bathroom stall. yeonjun finds you after not seeing you since you went off. here you and yeonjun are, on the bathroom tiles - confessing how much you enjoy spending tonight with each other.

genre ⟢ best friends to lovers (fluff)

a/n ⟢ hi! this is a story i had prepared for if i got my tumblr account started and it has! (ty, i’m never gonna stop thanking) and i hope whoever read this, they will enjoy it. <3

⋆ ·˚ ༘ *

choi yeonjun hated parties.

but because of your popularity of getting invitations, he was always dragged to them. of course he never complained but after every single one, he would express his pure hatred for them walking home together.

you promised that this one would be different, and yeonjun hoped you were right.

he always liked walking to the parties; partially because the parties are always close by but also it gives him time to speak with you clearly before having to yell at each other through the blasting (horribly remixed) music.

“whose party did you say this was?”

“a girl in my biology class?”

he looks at you, unimpressed.

“y/n, do you even know her name?”

“no.”

yeonjun scoffs, and you can’t help but laugh at his disappointment.

“but this party promised good service” you attempt to defend your decision.

yeonjun doesn’t bother responding as you two get to the beginning of the stairs that lead to the party doors.

the music is already giving him a headache, he takes your hand.

“why don’t we have our own party?” he invites you two to get out of this party.

“yeonjun, I promised people I'd be here.”

“break a promise for once.” he begs.

“nice try.” you grip yeonjuns hand and haul him up the stairs to enter the party.

yeonjun and you enter the doors and are immediately taken back. the whole gym floor is covered by students in bright outfits. yeonjun’s black tux and your deep blue dress are giving bridesmaid and groom-man.

by the squeeze of yeonjun’s hand, you know he’s not into this.

“food will make you happier.” you say to yeonjun.

a mumble escapes his mouth as you bring him to the food table. sparkling cupcakes and a chocolate fountain catch your attention first.

yeonjun sees you testing out the chocolate fountain. you cover a marshmallow and bite it. it’s so good!

you can’t enjoy your marshmallow chocolate sensation when yeonjuns thumb rubs the side of your lip.

his furrowed eyebrows made you laugh.

“don’t have too much fun.” he cleans your chocolate on your lips and looks into your eyes.

“well, you’ll realize it’s worth it,” you grab a marshmallow, coat it, and bring it to yeonjun lips. “when you have it yourself.”

yeonjun knew you’d shove it in his mouth if he didn’t accept it, so he opens his mouth and took it.

you watch him closely.

his puffy cheeks were adorable as he enjoyed the marshmallow. you knew he was resisting to admit it was good when his lips shook away a small smile.

“it’s kind of worth it-“

“yeonjun!” you swat his arm, he breaks out in a laugh.

“okay, it’s worth it.”

“you’re being annoying tonight.”

he sighs. “it’s annoying you brought me.”

you two eat a few more marshmallows and then a song you two know well turns on.

“oh?” you look at the dance floor.

yeonjun wipes his hands and looks over also.

“do you want to?” you look at yeonjun.

he meets your eyes with a nod.

you two travel to the dance floor, the music getting louder.

he first dances small and when you begin doing a ridiculous sprinkler. his laughs become music to your ears.

both of you laugh and smile while dancing. he looks at you everytime the song increases in bass.

maybe even 2 minutes in the song you pause. yeonjun dances in front of you without noticing.

the headaches that feel like your brain is bruised, you have only ever heard about from yeonjun, is happening to you. i need to go somewhere quiet, you thought.

“yeonjun, i’ll be back.” you yell.

yeonjun raises his eyebrows.

“bathroom!” you yell.

he gives you a thumbs up.

through the crowd you exit, your headache grows more. you hit the door with your arm and then finally get out into the hall.

yeonjun found no reason to stay dancing so he returned to the snack table. drinking a sweet drink as he waits for you to return.

pounding, your head is pounding. the music was further away as you went down the bathroom stalls. you open the last door and rest on the wall to rub your forehead.

5 minutes, and yeonjun was just by himself. he wondered if you left. yeonjun first decides to check the bathroom.

as he approaches he’s weary to enter the girls bathroom but knew he needed to see if you were in there.

a creek in the door, he pops his head in first. surprisingly, this bathroom was dim. most likely from the bright energy consuming party, yeonjun thought.

he enters and looks down the bathroom stalls.

“y/n?” he first whispers.

he kneels down to see if he can see anything and when he sees the deep blue dress of yours, he heads to the stall.

yeonjun knocks.

“y/n?”

you stood up to open the stall door. yeonjun’s hand stayed in the air from knocking and dropped when you gesture for him to enter.

“why are you here?” “did you go to the bathroom?”

“no.” you sit back in your original spot and yeonjun finds a place in front of you.

resting on the back of the wall, yeonjun asks another question.

“why did you stay in here?”

“the music was killing me. i had to leave.”

“we could have ditched together,”

“but you were having fun..”

he scoffs which grabs your attention.

“fun? i was having fun with you.” “i stopped dancing after you left.”

you don’t say anything, just thinking.

“sorry.” you say.

“what for?”

“this whole party. i’ve never asked you if you want to go or if you like coming to them with me.”

yeonjun rests on the wall, his suit flowing over him. you look at his tie and he adjusts it.

“i don’t mind,” yeonjun confesses.

you furrow your eyebrows. yeonjun has only ever told you how much he hates them.

“we are talking about parties yeonjun?” you ask, in case he’s talking about something else.

“yeah i know.”

yeonjun’s eyes meet yours. he looks at you for a second before speaking again.

“of course i hate them, but spending time with you is so fun.”

“so i don’t mind them.”

you swear he looks like a dream. his suit fit him well and looked very attractive on him. you wonder if it’s because of the headache you are feeling this way.

yeonjun laughs under his breath which interrupts your thoughts. you look at yeonjun, and he sighs.

“you’re not falling for me right?”

you burn up instantly, pink cheeks you attempt to cover.

“what! no!”

“i’m teasing.”

his soft smile grows as his eyes move to the ground. could he read your thoughts? you want to say something but the music is heard through the walls again.

a faint popular love song.

you adore this certain song and it always makes you think of an ideal kiss with someone in your fantasies.

you sigh, fixing your dress “if only my headache went away, then we could return to the dance floor”

“why?”

“so we could, at least, remember tonight..”

“i mean we still can.”

you look up at him and meet his eyes.

the bathroom becomes suffocating, you feel your heart race as yeonjun looks into your eyes. reading your exact thoughts.

as cliché as a romance movie, time slows down in favor of the tension between you two. he’s leaning into you slowly with the chorus of the song leading up.

as he sits up and makes his way to you, his hands crawl on the tile and stop right next to your hands.

yeonjun’s right there. so close that you could count how many eyelashes he has.

“may i?” yeonjun asks, just in case you don’t want this.

but you want this.

“yes.”

the way his lips fit yours, and his hold on your lips made your body go weak. your hands go to his face, cupping him to deepen the kiss.

his hands are comfortably holding your waist. his fingers tickle you as he brings you closer to him.

and to make it better, the song just made the kiss last forever. the passion between you two grows with the flow in the song.

you would have never expected to kiss yeonjun, let alone make out with him.. in a bathroom. this party turned out better than yeonjun anticipated.

𓉸ྀི ©vampirehoon

[slocumjoe]

Companions on social media

Cait; Posts gym thirst traps and videos of her working out or getting into fistfights. Can be found in the comments and DMs of women, gay or otherwise. Lots of activity in sobriety and self-help communities. Doesn’t have a lot of followers, but does fundraiser streams for a week every three months she's sober. The money goes to child abuse prevention foundations. Her most recent charity streams had her trying to get all achievements on Just Dance after someone donated 10k requesting it.

Codsworth; self-help videos for people struggling to take care of themselves. How to tidy up, how to take effective breaks, what needs to be cleaned in a house and what supplies you need...very useful, very popular with college students and teens. Once posted a video of him going at wasps with a chainsaw and gained a million subs overnight.

Curie; children's educational YouTube channel that's, somehow, more popular with young adults. Science experiments gone wrong. Think Jackass and Mythbusters hosted by a tiny French woman who approaches everything with the joy and whimsy of My Little Pony. Her most popular videos are her 100k subscriber specials, a series where she goes ghost and cryptid hunting to disprove them and demonstrate the fraudulence you can find behind such things.

Danse; has a Facebook for work purposes. It has a profile photo only because Haylen insisted. Fears the internet deeply, thinks its the closest humanity can get to staring into the void and seeing something blink. Unbeknownst to him, there's a viral video of him teaching a workout regimen to trainees. The comment sections are pure thirst. All of his coworkers know and made an oath to never speak of it.

Deacon; Is the one who snuck into training and got that video. Posted it to r/NextFuckingLevel with 🥵🥵🥵 for a caption. Owns several large meme accounts, all with distinct personalities and lives. Someone tried to dox him after suspicions, but found all accounts had different IPs and info. He's just that good. His Facebook changes profile photo every. Single. Day. He consumes an absurd amount of audio books. Drops CRAZY money on charity streams to make the host do weird shit, like 100% Just Dance. Probably sells feet pics.

Dogmeat; The internet's darling. Nick Valentine's dog who doesn't help with catching bad guys, but with far more important things; Dogmeat cuddles and plays with victims at the scene or in court. Also trained in search and rescue. Much of Dogmeat's page is just Nick sharing important information (hotlines, self-defense, survival tips, et cetera) while petting or playing with Dogmeat. Kind of a McGruff the Crime Dog vibe.

Gage; Facebook that he uses to cyberbully cop pages and Craigslist to offer his...unconventional services (pretending to be your boyfriend at family gatherings to cause drama). His pet lizard, an Argentine Tegu, has an Instagram with 3k followers. The Tegu often wins pet competitions and Gage posts the awards captioned with 🖕🏻💚🦎💚🖕🏻. Works at an amusement park, posts tell-all confessions on Reddit.

MacCready; Facebook with friends and family, posts a lot of Duncan. His YouTube history is videos for Duncan. Lots of Curie's videos. Mac has a Craigslist and LinkedIn, does odd jobs when he isn't working as a security guard at a shooting range. Activite in communities about comics, shows, and video games. Sometimes he'll post a theory about a show or comic and he's usually right. Really enjoys the meltdowns of fandoms when the media takes a nasty turn, even if he's also betrayed.

Nick; Ellie runs Dogmeat's page, Nick just does the talking. As for Nick himself, has some pages for his work (that Ellie also manages) and a Facebook profile to stay in touch with friends and family. Much like Danse, consumes media offline—except for poetry. Most of his screen time is spent on Poetry.com, one of those people that leave comments. He likes how the internet makes information and art accessible. Very peaceful and wholesome internet time.

Hancock; The void that Danse is scared of. Also does streams, but not only for fundraisers. Streams high. Streams himself trying to find his way back to his apartment late at night. Always end up in a fast food joint, trying to convince the workers to unionize. Twitter shitposter until a politician needs cyberbullying. Organizes protests. Extremely active in Massachusetts' political scene, his fans are a force to be reckoned with. Has fistfought his own fans before. Occasionally cancels himself to prove a point. Makes mock apology videos whenever another celeb/influencer fucks up.

Preston; Park ranger and community organizer. Uses Facebook and TikTok to appeal to all ages. Is unfairly good at TikTok dances. Posts safety tips, upcoming event information, etc. Does a lot of work with Dogmeat and Nick. Posts bodycam footage of him arresting people, like shutting down fire-themed gender reveal parties, or poachers. Not a lot of followers, but the bodycam footage goes viral on subreddits like r/Instant_Karma.

Piper; a journalist and blogger. Posts videos of her political rants and makeup/hair routine. Joins Hancock in politician cyberbullying. Makes commentary essays and videos, sometimes book reviews. Appears on podcasts. Her media presence is decently known, but mild. She tries to keep herself distant from it. Despite this, has a good-sized following who appreciate the lack of parasociality. Her most famous video is her trying to find the best coffee spots in Boston.

X6-88; security guard for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology who got stuck running the Twitter when the last guy got arrested on weed charges. Piper keeps DMing for an interview and he keeps blocking her accounts. He has LinkedIn for work. Half of it is redacted and involves NDAs. No other media presence except for one thing; he's an infamous esports cryptid. Across a few different shooter games, a high-rank player called X6-88 (its just his first initial and the numbers on his security badge) fucking curbstomps everyone in the match. He has never died or missed a shot. Never speaks in chat, never in team chat. He's a legend among gamers. For him, he's just relaxing on a Friday night, keeping his senses sharp. Doesn't realize there are compilation videos of streamers raging at him.

[multifandomfix]

Mirror, Mirror — Villanelle

Summary: You’re an assassin who wears a mask to hide your identity and insecurity. But Villanelle shows you just how beautiful you are.

Word Count: 1,675

Warnings: Female!Reader, slight knife kink, mirror sex, fingering

Villanelle took in the horrors of the blood covered alleyway. With the rain, most of it would wash away by morning before anyone would have the chance to see what had gone down here. But clean up was not what she was worried about. What she wanted to know is how someone had gotten to her target before she had, and more importantly, who.

As she surveyed the scene, her blonde hair was becoming plastered to her face as the sky poured its large, heavy raindrops. Then she saw you, bent over, reaching for something on the ground. Her eyes were trained on your every move. Feeling eyes on your form, you looked up, meeting a woman's gaze. You knew who she was, and you needed to go. Now. You took off down the alleyway, trying to keep your footing while dodging puddles and avoiding the slick stones that paved your escape route.

"Hey," Villanelle called after you. She’d only wanted to talk, get to know you. You'd made her job easier and that intrigued her. She was fast, but there was no way she’d catch up with the weather and your head start. Fine, she’d just see what you left behind.

What she picked up was far from anything she could have expected. It was a mask made of black and white marbled porcelain, spotted with the blood of your kill. You’d worn it, hadn’t you? But why?

You continued to sprint through the streets and alleyways, your heart racing as the sound of Villanelle's voice faded into the distance behind you. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and your mind races to piece together the events that have unfolded tonight. The mask you had dropped had been a careless mistake, a slip that you couldn’t have accounted for.

As you finally emerge from your zigzagged path to a busy street, you pause to catch your breath, your chest heaving. The rain continues to pour, soaking you to the bone. You needed somewhere to stay and get dry. You looked next to you. A hotel. Perfect.

It was one of those ritzy ones, with chandeliers and rooms with hot tubs. You could work with that. You needed the rest after the extended effort and toll the night had taken. Even as you check in, you can't shake the feeling that Villanelle is still out there, combing the streets for any trace of you. She was clever. She’d be searching.

Meanwhile, Villanelle still stood in the rain soaked alleyway, her eyes fixated on the mask you had left behind. A slow, dangerous smile curled at the corners of her lips. She's not one to back down from a challenge, and you have certainly intrigued her. With a determined glint in her eyes, she begins her hunt, determined to track you down.

Days pass in a tense blur as you hide in the confines of your hotel room, waiting out the clock. Surely Villanelle would leave town now that her target had been disposed of. She’d get a new assignment and be halfway across the world, her memory of you nearly forgotten. In a week, you’d be safe, and could leave this city yourself.

Then, one evening, there's a knock at your hotel room door. Your room service had already come and gone an hour ago. Your heart skips a beat as you tense up, every nerve on edge. Slowly, cautiously, you approach the door and peer through the peephole. It's her. Villanelle. "I know you’re in there. I just want to see your face."

"No," you’re quick to deny her.

"But I've been looking for you," she says casually, as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world. "You are a hard one to find. I like that about you. Can I come in? Promise I won’t bite."

You stifled a chuckle. You’d heard she was funny. Part of you was glad to know it was true. Taking a deep breath, you’re able to find your voice again. "What do you want from me?"

"You left your mask. Thought I should bring it back to you. It’s clean. The rain washed away most of the blood. The rest I wiped away myself." She was practically shouting at your doorway. You didn’t need all your secrets given away to the hotel's guests, so you grabbed another mask, put it on and opened the door, letting her in.

Why did she care, a part of you wondered. Then again, you’d never been able to speak about it to anyone. So here you are, faced with a decision. Do you lie or confess? Something about Villanelle tells you that she wouldn’t fall for a lie, no matter how convincing.

"I wear masks to hide my scars," you admit, your voice kept low out of shame. "I've always been self conscious about them."

Villanelle's eyes narrow slightly as she processes your words. She steps closer, her presence almost overwhelming you. "Scars are not something to be ashamed of," she says softly, surprising you with an unexpected empathy. "They tell a story, a history. They are beautiful in their own way." Then she raises a hand to your masked face. "I want to see them."

Her words hang in the air as you try and take them in. Villanelle, a ruthless assassin, sees something in your scars that you never could. A strange mixture of emotions swirl within you. You let her take off your mask. "See? Beautiful. Just like I told you."

You shake your head, wishing for the security of the mask once more. "No. You’re wrong. They’re hideous. I'm hideous."

Before you can protest further, Villanelle swiftly turns you around, your back now pressed to her front, and she pulls out a knife. You gasp at the suddenness of her actions as the blade makes it’s first contact with your neck. "I don’t like to be told I'm wrong." Her voice is right in your ear and it sends a shiver through you.

Villanelle's grip on the knife tightens slightly against your throat as she begins to guide you toward the set of three full length dressing mirrors in your room. When you stand before the mirror, your scars are illuminated by the soft light, and you can't help but flinch at the sight of them. Villanelle's reflection stands behind you, her presence a commanding force that's impossible to ignore.

Her gaze sweeps over you, and you can't help but feel exposed beneath her scrutiny. The knife moves away from your neck, no longer pressing against skin, but still she held you, an arm around your robed waist. You didn’t dare make a move. "Look. Look at yourself, your beauty." You resisted. "You want to be difficult? I will prove it to you another way."

With the dull edge of the blade, Villanelle came down with the knife, opening your robe in her descent down your body, turning the blade only to slice the tie open. The robe fell open and exposed more of you to her. It’s mission accomplished, Villanelle cast aside the knife and it landed on the plush bed several feet away. "Do you want me to stop," she asked, fingers reaching for the shoulders of the robe, ready to take it all the way off. "I’m going to need an answer."

"Don’t stop," you uttered, the words coming out all breathy and flustered, but your answer was clear enough. She pulled the robe off your shoulders and took in the full sight of you once more, using the mirror as her guide for how and where to touch you.

Her hand roamed down your chest, stopping to play with the soft flesh of it, before continuing its path downward. As the tips of her fingers reached your pelvis, you adjusted your stance so that your legs were parted for her. Your back pressed more firmly to Villanelle as her fingers dipped inside of you. A gasp made you take your eyes off of the mirror.

"Ah, ah," Villanelle scolded. "I need you to watch, to view yourself the way I see you." It took all of the effort you had, but you watched through half lidded eyes while Villanelle worked you over. She rubbed her hand against your most sensitive of spots and you pressed your weight against her, seeking even more of the delicious friction.

"Look how pretty and pink your cheeks flush when my fingers press into you," she said when your eyes started to close again. They snapped back open and you looked in the mirror again, fearing she’d stop if you didn’t keep watching. With a satisfied grin, Villanelle tilted her head, kissing down along the soft skin of your neck. "You are beautiful," she affirmed between kisses. "I want to hear you say it."

"…I am beautiful," you whispered, not even meeting your own gaze in the reflective glass.

"More conviction. Say it as I bring you to your climax, hmm?" You nodded. "Good." She then plunged her fingers deeper into you, causing you to almost let out a scream. Her other hand came up from your waist and grabbed your breast, using the extra stimulation to bring you along, right to the edge.

"You are close. Say it now for me. Make me believe it or I won’t let you come."

"I—I am beautiful," you said, the words pouring from your mouth like a mantra. This time you were loud, assertive, you’d almost entirely convinced yourself of the truth of your words. Almost. And then she brought you to your release. You nearly collapsed against her, but Villanelle's arms held you up. You were spent, and covered in a fine layer of sweat from the intensity of your orgasm. Villanelle helped you lower yourself gently to the floor.

Taking your chin in her hand, she angled your face to the mirror once more. "I never want you to forget or doubt your beauty. Not ever again or I will give you a truly ugly scar."

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @rukia-28, @malfoyfeed

Villanelle: @victoraisawonder, @countqss, @thenazwife

[lady-lostmind]

Dog House

for Stobin Month prompt: Assumption

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 504 | Rating: G

ao3 link

Steve reaches out and shakes the realtor’s hand, trying to ignore the way her eyes flick to his hand, checking for a ring, and the way her smile brightens when she doesn’t find one. 

“I’m Amy, I’ll be helping you today, Steve.” She drops his hand and turns, gesturing to the house in front of them. “So, here it is. You looking at this big ol’ house just for yourself, sugar?” She bats her lashes at him. 

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Oh, no my uh–”

Robin’s car comes to a screeching stop at the curb and she hurries over to them, her baggy sweater slipping off her shoulder, and her hair falling in messy tendrils out of her bun. “Sorry! Sorry! I forgot to set my alarm. I’m here.” 

Steve smiles and gestures to Robin. “Here she is! Robin, Amy, Amy, Robin.” 

Amy’s face falls for a second before she catches herself, eyes flicking between Robin and Steve, and her pleasant customer service smile is plastered back on her face. “So nice to meet you, dear.” She leads them up to the path and opens the front door, stepping aside to let them in.

Steve doesn’t even look around the room. Just looks right to Robin so he can see her gut reaction to the place. Her face lights up, a shimmer in her eye, before she wipes it clean and turns to him, obviously trying not to get her hopes up. 

“What do you think? This is the one that was a little out of our price range, right?” 

Steve shrugs, finally glancing around the spacious living room. There’s a bay window on the side with a window seat he’s pretty sure is what caught Robin’s eye. “It can’t hurt to look though, and I have my trust fund…”

Robin shakes her head. “We said we were going to split this evenly, Steve.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs her further into the house. “I don’t mind, though. I just want to find a house we love.” 

Robin opens her mouth to argue, again, as she pulls open a closet in the hallway, when Amy clears her throat behind them. They both glance over at her, and Steve tries not to laugh at the way Robin’s clearly trying not to glare. 

 “If I may, sweetie–” She reaches out to give Robin’s arm a squeeze. “If you two are moving in together you might as well start thinking of it as joint accounts. I mean, I don’t want to assume. But buying a house together is pretty serious. Are y'all planning a wedding soon? This house would be great for starting a family.” 

Robin’s face drops and Steve has to stifle another laugh. He leans in close to Robin, pulling her in close and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That backyard would be great for a dog, babe.” 

Robin sighs and shakes her head, pushing him off her with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s look at the freaking backyard, then.” 

Stobin month prompt list by @lavenderstobins

[artemisandhersilverbow]

Just thinking about the line from My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys:

I'm queen of sandcastles he destroys

A lot of people have touched on Taylor using castles and palaces as a symbolic representation of her career, body of work, specifically those stolen works and versions of herself. They're locked away in a high tower and separated from Lover - TTPD Taylor.

The tension at the end of Bejeweled, when she walks smiling onto her balcony only to quickly show her castle on fire was, in my opinion, easily overlooked. Was she burning it down or had it already been burning down without her noticing? A stone castle on fire would require some orchestration.

Fast forward to TTPD, the line above from MBOBHFT stuck with me because the "boy" here is destroying her sandcastle. Sandcastles are a study in impermanence. We build them as an incredibly basic recreation of the real, impenetrable, almost indestructable thing. But we do so knowing they can't last, they won't. Eventually the tide will wash them clean away or the wind will erode at the structure until it turns back into sand.

That means "the boy" in question is preemptively destroying something that wasn't supposed to be forever anyway.

The first thing about this song that lit up my brain like a firework was the lyrical parallel to Cruel Summer. I mean, if Taylor uses the word "toy" in a song you know it's gonna be sassy af, ok? A girl takes notice.

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night You know that I caught it Bad, bad boy Shiny toy with a price You know that I bought it -------------------- The sickest army doll Purchased at the mall Rivulets descend my plastic smile But you should've seen him When he first got me My boy only breaks his favorite toys

Now, I have had my speculations (as have many others) about Cruel Summer not being a love song, but a PR-ing song. I almost immediately thought the same of MYBOBHFT.

Fortunately, the Barbie movie covers a lot of ground for the "why is using a kind of Barbie-Ken like dynamic excluding a romantic narrative?" Because she's Barbie, he's just Ken, Ken is basically an accessory. Anyway I think this song is absolutely talking about several people or experiences/problematic Hollywood structures etc. in a very smart twisting narrative.

"Fever dream" is playful here in the same way she uses "sickest. " The doll isn't sick and the narrator of Cruel Summer isn't running a temperature. "Shiny toy" and "sickest army doll" feel like even clearer parallels — one "with a price / You know that I bought it" and the other "purchased at the mall." I like the reversal of "You know that I caught it" and "When he first got me" because catching isn't as active as buying. Something happens to you if you catch a fever or something is thrown at you - and that feels like an entirely different he that "got" her. Another play on words because that sounds like ownership and tricking.

I was so confused by sickest army doll at first because she sings it in such a (Lana coded) morose way. I was trying to imagine a sickly Army Barbie? But I think the smart way she's written these lyrics (please read her lyric booklets they are incredibly sneaky, brilliant works of poetry) she's not referring to the "me" as an army doll. In fact what's an "army doll" little kids think are rad? Hm... a G.I. Joe?

The bait and switch of it all, the sandcastle-like metaphors, continue with the above. It sounds like "there were so many reasons why we should have been together forever." But word choice is where this poet shines.

"Litany" is one of those words that always registers to me a "a list" but it's actually got religious roots (of course - this album has so much of that): a form of prayer used in services and processions, and consisting of a number of petitions.

It can also mean "a prolonged or tedious account," which is why you hear an expression like "litany of complaints"... Got it so you had a tedious amount of prayers and petitions *checks notes* for why you could have "played for keeps" THIS. TIME. Have there been other times? Oh right, yes, she's "just repeating herself."

Play for keeps is another one of those terms we use, but don't always know it's full definition. One such definition is "to do something seriously and without showing any mercy."

This sounds less like holding onto a lover who wanted to leave or mistreated you, though I think that should also another lens to view this story... perhaps change lover to authority figure... and more like two people who struck an agreement (one that upheld some good christian values?? too far?) to battle something together... and one of them couldn't stick it out. Perhaps because "he saw forever so he smashed it up"? He was a Bolter too.

So she just wants to be put back on her shelf so she can go through the cycle all over again. In fact, pull a string and she'll repeat the lines she knows so well. Copy+paste.

"I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost" to "I felt more when we played pretend / Than with all the Kens" with her GI Joe? I mean lumping a "lover" into a category with Kens and any kind of doll purchased isn't the most loving way to refer to them lol. And I can't help but notice she's only ever played pretend with all the Kens. But what do you do with your shiny toy when they don't want to play anymore?

The lyric video is simple, but each line comes up one at a time and "breaks," floating pieces falling out of frame. At the end we pan down to see the collected debris.

A pit of broken words.

Also worth noting you can see among the blurred graveyard of words a couple of them are crisp/hidden. They're "Boy breaks his only favorite" or "favorite only"... or his Favourite?

Anyway, we come back 'round to the sandcastle metaphor that got me started. I don't think Taylor's princess castle and her sandcastle are a perfect one to one match symbolically. A stone castle was built with the intention of lasting forever, if it catches on fire that would be surprising... more akin, to me, to her career or Taylor TM?

A sandcastle, however, can't last forever, it's not meant to, but you still build it knowing that. Like an arrangement, contract, role, etc. business or otherwise. For someone to snuff out a sandcastle before time or tides or the inevitable does that for you seems needlessly harsh. Even a short-lived imitation can mean something if you enjoyed building it. In fact, that's the only part that gets to live on once a sandcastle is washed away. And it seems like even that part was ruined.

[sonic-gallery]

Another World Ogiri March 2023 [What are Tikal and Chaos doing...? ]

When I let my beloved daughter take over the soba restaurant, it was turned into a pizza shop the next day.

When I let my beloved daughter take over the soba restaurant, it was turned into a pizza shop the next day.

Two characters appear every month in surprising outfits and situations! Let's enjoy Ogiri together with illustrations that will make your imagination run wild!

This time, Tikal, the pizza shop's signboard girl, will be joined by Chaos, who makes pizza with artisan skills!

It seems like the impossibly happy aura of the two and the enthusiasm of the delicious pizza can be felt beyond the screen.

The example story was quite surreal (Father, Pachacama...!), but what kind of lines or narration would you use?

You can set it up with the two's usual atmosphere and worldview, or you can make it bold... Enjoy it freely and tweet with the tag #Isekai Ogiri on Twitter ♪

We will introduce the good ones in a reply from Sonic's official Twitter account.

We are looking forward to your fun Ogiri posts!

Act3: “Satisfied Paradise”

"Welcome! Please take an empty seat."

``CHAO's Diner'' is a pizza restaurant that has been operating in the mountains of Mystic Lewin for some time.

This popular shop, located between the village of the wild echidna "Knuckles tribe" and the home of the mysterious creatures "Chao" who live in waterholes, is run by Tikal, the daughter of the Knuckles tribe chief, and the hearts of the Chao's. Gentle guardians...Two of the water creatures "Chaos".

Today, Tikal cheerfully greets customers, and Kaos deftly makes pizza with his outstretched arms. The specialty here is the piping hot special pizza made with Chao and his friends' favorite red fruits. The taste of this pizza and Tikal's cheerful customer service have earned a reputation, and the restaurant is always crowded with Chao and Knuckles people.

Although CHAO's Diner is such a wonderful place, there were some difficulties when it first opened. When Tikal remembers the past, he can't help but chuckle as he catches a glimpse of the chaos silently making pizza.

The Knuckles tribe is brutal and arrogant. Chaos was wary of them lest they harm Chao and the others.

They came in large numbers and walked around the store, making a fuss without paying any heed to the previous customers. When Chaos rushes out angrily, Tikal intervenes and intercedes...

One day...Chaos made a new pizza that was very popular with Chao and his friends...and the Knuckles tribe as well. This pizza served as a bridge and brought everyone together.

The Knuckles tribe began to respect Chaos, and began to treat the Chao people with love as well, who loved the same masterpiece. And the chaos... As soon as I saw their smiles, all the worries in my heart disappeared.

I still can't forget the joy I felt at that time. If you treat someone with sincerity, you can open up to anyone someday. That's certainly what I thought.

Relive that excitement once again...

Since then, the two have been thinking about a new pizza every day, and last night they finally completed it! Today is the day of its unveiling.

A special dough made with seven red berries, fresh basil, and melted cheese. Everyone will love it. The two of them were nervous as they waited for the baking to finish...

<<Gashaan! >>

Suddenly, there was the sound of plates breaking from the audience. You can also hear the roar of the guests and the cries of Chao.

"W-what happened!? No way...!"

Tikal rushes out in a panic. This hasn't happened for a long time...!

When she rushed in, she saw Chao crying after dropping a plate and breaking it, and the Knuckles tribe gently cradling Chao while cleaning up the broken plate.

Tikal sighs with relief.

It was. There are no more disputes in this store. Because now everyone wants to open up and enjoy delicious pizza together in a gentle manner...

“!?”

A fragrant scent immediately flows into it. Who ordered it? It doesn't belong to anyone...it belongs to everyone! Chaos quietly arrives with a new pizza and serves it to everyone.

I've been waiting! As if to say that, the Knuckles tribe and Chao, who had been crying, smiled and bit into it.

"Ah! It's all over my heart and soul!"

"Ciao chao!"

Everyone was overjoyed. Great success! Tikal turns around. Chaos slowly nods back.

Until now and forever. This restaurant for two people has always been fine. When Tikal and his friends returned to the kitchen with these thoughts in mind...

As if to dissolve it, a white mist enveloped the area...

Before you know it, the gatherings and conversations at the store fade away, and eventually the fog thins out... There is only the Master Emerald, which flickers slowly as if asleep, and the ruins of its altar.

And when even the lingering scent, which had no place to go, disappeared, a heavy silence filled this paradise ruins.

"Everything disappears..."

Angel Island, which was supposed to be floating in the sky, has descended to the ground, and a mysterious white mist surrounds the altar, creating a mysterious scene...

Tikal and Chaos work in a happiness that is far from the reality of the past. Knuckles and Chao are good friends. Was the fleeting paradise I had just seen real or a dream?

Judging from the atmosphere of the store, it doesn't seem to be a vision of the time when Tikal and his friends lived... but the mystery only deepens with the fog.

The more you know, the more new mysteries this world reveals.

[msbigredmachine]

TARGETS - 30 - Finishing Touches

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted.  (AU Espionage Story)

TARGETS MASTERLIST

-------------------

Nine days had gone by since Jasmine and Roman left Rose’s house. Eleven days since Jasmine was tortured and Roman was shot in the shoulder by Baron Corbin. Somehow, they survived and Corbin did not. That had to mean something, that as long as they were alive and breathing, they still had a fighting chance. But though their wounds were healing, neither was sure they would ever be at a hundred percent again. 

Jasmine's ordeal had taken a toll on her psyche. The first night, she'd woken up in a cold sweat, the feel of Baron's grimy hands on her still as suffocating now as it was then, the smell of her burning flesh entrapped in her nostrils. The second night, she had almost broken Roman's nose as he tried to shake her awake from her nightmare. Shaken and embarrassed, it took some convincing to the Samoan that she would be okay. As traumatic as it was for her and as harsh as it sounded, Jasmine knew she had to brush it off and concentrate on putting their plan to action. All of F.L.O.R.A. and the Authority were looking for them now, and they had missed the deadline for their Jamaica rendezvous with Rollins and Ambrose thanks to Corbin. The two men were now off the grid, most likely for their own safety. Roman did not blame them. The couple kept on the move, not staying at one particular place for too long, and they continued to strategize and stay in shape as best as they could, given the circumstances.

As the days got closer and closer to executing their final plan, Roman decided to treat his girlfriend to something nice. Since they couldn’t travel to any exotic destination at the moment, he brandished his considerable skills and was able to scam his way into obtaining a nice swanky suite for two days at the W Hotel, the very same hotel chain where they first spent an incredible night together all those months ago. It was a pleasant contrast to the dingy accommodation they had been inhabiting for the past week, and the huge smile on Jasmine’s face as she plopped down onto the soft, clean white sheets of the king bed like a little girl was the perfect reward for him. 

Biting into a croissant from the vast breakfast tray from room service, Jasmine perused the contents of the carry-on Rose had given her. It contained two brand new passports; one for herself, named "Ameera Candice Johnson", and the other for her "husband" Roman, under the name "Afa Jonathan Johnson". She calculated a hundred thousand dollars in cash in four different currencies. Rose would have provided more, but F.L.O.R.A. had monitored each of their operatives' accounts ever since Jasmine turned rogue, to ensure that none of them were financing her. Jasmine's own accounts and credit cards had long since been frozen. The money was adequate for now, but she and Roman were going to need much more than this if they planned on disappearing forever.

And she knew just where they were going to get it.

She heard the bathroom door open, and then a whooshing sound from behind her. Instinctively, she twisted her upper body around, catching the incoming missile expertly with her right hand. She glanced down at the tube of toothpaste and rolled her eyes. "Really, Reigns?"

Her boyfriend stood by the bathroom door, a white towel hanging low on his hips. "Just testing your reflexes, my beautiful Nubian rose," he informed her.

"My reflexes are just fine, my handsome Samoan stallion."

Roman smirked. "Stallion, huh? Cuz you love ridin’ me?"

"Oh my god, don't start." She shook her head with a smile, getting up and approaching him. Giving his chest an affectionate pat, she took off her clothes, stepped into the walk-in shower and turned on the hot water.

The Plexiglas quickly grew foggy from the hot water, but Roman could still see the curvaceous outline of her silhouette. His breathing grew heavier as he watched her spread the lather over her naked body with her hands. He was aroused in seconds. He'd just showered but he didn't mind going back in for another. Quickly discarding his towel, he walked into the shower and shut the glass door behind him.

Standing behind her, his hands roamed her jagged skin, carefully tracing the scars Corbin had left all over her beautiful body. "Fuckin' piece of shit," he growled, "I should find him, wake his dead ass up and put another bullet in his head."

Jasmine found herself chuckling at that. "Down, boy. It's getting better, thanks to Rose’s lotion."

"You're still not sleeping well, though." Roman's tone was quiet but pointed, feeling her bristle at his words. "Baby girl, I know Corbin did a number on you..."

"Don't worry about me, my love. I'll be fine," Jasmine promised, turning her head to meet his eyes. "Let's just focus on tomorrow, and hope we live through it."

"We will. We have a good plan. A brilliant one, even."

"You're very confident," she smirked.

"I am. Because we're good. Very good. We make a great team, Jasmine."

Jasmine smiled. "We do. It’s like we’ve known each other forever." 

“Like soulmates?” asked Roman.

There was something about that word, just the mere utterance of it, that seemed to unlock something, opening another chapter in their romance. Jasmine looked deep into Roman’s eyes and saw everything she needed to know. 

“Just like soulmates,” she agreed with a soft smile. She felt his thumbs gently massage the base of her neck, and gradually relaxed as he methodically worked the tension out of her neck, shoulders and upper back. She closed her eyes, a soft contented sigh escaping her when Roman kissed the scar on her shoulder blade. He inched closer, his chest flush against her back, his hands slipping around to rest against the flat plane of her abdomen.

Jasmine trailed her hands along the contours of his muscular forearms, her fingers intertwining with his. With a soft moan, Roman dipped his head, his lips meeting the curve of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His caresses soon found her breasts, and as he massaged them and rolled her nipples between his fingers, that familiar erotic feeling surged up inside them; the one that pushed out all other thoughts and focused on no one else but each other.

“I love you,” whispered Jasmine.

“I love you too, baby,” Roman replied, capturing her mouth with his when she lifted her head, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers. She rotated her body around until she was facing him, her knees weakening as she took in his naked form and the hunger in his eyes. He gave her no breathing room as he backed her up against the shower wall with his mouth back over hers. She moaned in encouragement at his eagerness, feeling his desire, the tender urgency in every kiss and touch and caress – it had been a while since they last made love, and she would be lying if she said she didn't want him inside of her.

Their tongues clashed fervently, craving the taste of each other, the heat of their desire radiating through the small enclosure. Roman's long fingers threaded through Jasmine's wet hair and angled her head back to attack her neck with his lips, his hard body pressing against hers. She dragged her fingers down his muscled back, pulling him even closer, if that was possible. His low growl vibrated in his chest as he rolled his hips, making her moan as his erection rubbed against her lower belly. His hands gripped her ass cheeks, kneading and squeezing them between his rough palms as they grinded against each other.

“I love the way you feel beneath my hands, baby girl,” he whispered in that deep timbre of his that always made her melt inside. “I love the way your body reacts when I touch you and love on you. Like it knows it’s mine.”

“It’s yours. Baby I’m all yours,” she answered without hesitation.

Roman growled in appreciation and pressed open-mouthed kisses against her warm skin, his tongue rolling over as many goosebumps as possible. He licked his way down her body until he was on his knees. His hand then slipped down to palm her leg before hitching it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady as she found her balance.

“I got you. Relax for Daddy, baby,” he assured her, watching her stare down at him, licking her lips as she nodded. Nuzzling his face against her soft folds, he breathed her in, his brain filling up with the heady mix of shower gel and her natural scent that called out to him to be devoured. He was all too happy to oblige. 

With the tip of his tongue, he flicked her clit, teasing the bundle of nerves, gripping her hips as she bucked against his face and tugged his hair hard. He hummed softly at the slight pain, swiping the flat of his tongue along her slit and groaning at the taste. So good, so rich. He licked her thoroughly, repeatedly, his thumb sliding in to play with her clit at the same time. Her voice went up several decibels in reaction, her fingers digging into his hair as he slurped her juices.

"Baby…shit," Jasmine groaned above him, "Fuck, Roman..."

Groaning back to her, he widened his mouth over her pussy for a slew of French kisses before letting his fingers take over, sliding his mouth back over her clit. Keeping her pinned against the wall, he proceeded to destroy her by suckling and tonguing the sensitive nub while pumping three fingers inside her. His already hard dick twitched at the sweet sounds of her pussy and her cries for him, echoing around the enclosure as he milked her nectar, drowning out the running water. Jasmine arched against the wall as she detonated, her inner muscles keeping his long, thick fingers in a death grip. That grip was broken as she broke, her body falling to pieces from the intense pleasure.

Roman gently set her leg back down and got to his feet. Jasmine collapsed in his huge arms, burying her face in his neck with a soft, satisfied moan as he pressed her back against the wall. “Jesus, Ro,” she gasped.

“I got you,” he whispered. He lifted her head up to kiss her, his tongue sliding indulgently against her own as soon as she opened her mouth for him.

"Mmmm, I taste good," she panted, licking her lips with a grin. 

“You always do,” he responded, placing his mouth back over hers to taste her some more. Her wet body stuck to his, and his dick stirred again. Feeling him throb between them, she wasted no time reaching down and curling her fingers around the turgid length, rubbing and tugging it, biting her lip as she met his heated stare.

"I want it deep in me, Daddy, give it to me." She spoke in that pleading, breathy tone he could never resist. Throwing the shower door open, he pulled her behind him, both still dripping wet as they stumbled out of the bathroom. Upon reaching the bed, Jasmine sat Roman down and stood between his spread thighs. Her hungry stare locked with his as he wrapped his fingers around his cock and slowly massaged it. 

“Be a good girl and come suck Daddy dick,” he drawled, his hand sliding up and down the thick, delectable length. Fuck, he looked so enticing laying down like that. Like the good girl that she was, she sank down to her knees, her hand closing around his dick, and she slashed her tongue over the swollen head. Roman watched her intently as she sucked him, feeling his knees weaken as she sank him further into the inviting warmth of her mouth. Her soft moans were everything, even as she took him all in, making gulping sounds around his cock that never failed to send shivers down his spine. His hand cupped the back of her head, letting out a moan of his own as she grabbed his balls, tugging them in tandem with her sucking. 

His groans of pleasure and his dark intense eyes caused a flood in her loins. Completely turned on, she gobbled up his dick, making him moan louder as she swallowed him all up. He caressed her head, lifting his hips up, needing to be deeper somehow. She leaned forwards, her arms stretched over the length of his muscled thighs to keep him still. With her palms splayed over his crunching abs, she proceeded to deep-throat him, her mouth meeting his pelvis, holding it there to suckle the base of his dick before dragging the tightness of her lips back up to the tip. Rinse and repeat.

“Baby girl, you gon' make me come,” Roman soon grunted, his deep voice shaken as he gripped her hair. She hummed her permission, the vibrations around his dick rippling through his big frame and tightening his balls. His eyes rolled in the back of his head. “Shit, I’m ‘bout to come for you, baby. Open your mouth.”

Jasmine obeyed, wincing a little from his steely grip holding her in place. She didn’t mind too much; the best reward was watching him jerk himself frantically in her face, his own twisting with painful pleasure as he burst all over her tongue and partly on her chin. He groaned again when she wrapped her lips back around him and sucked hard, drinking down his cum like it was her favorite beverage. When she released him, he prayed he had some left in him as he was far from done with her. He used his thumb to clean his mess off her face and stuck the digit inside her mouth, gasping as she licked it clean, her eyes on him the entire time. 

“God you’re so sexy, my little fuckin’ slut. C'mere,” he praised her, pulling her into the bed and on top of him for a deep kiss full of tongue. Jasmine rocked against him, her wetness brushing ominously against the tip of his dick. Thanks to Corbin's act of savagery, she was no longer protected and he himself didn’t have any condoms. But just as quickly as the reminder appeared, he shooed it away. They could most likely be dead before tomorrow ended. Protection was the least of their worries. He wanted to fill her up with everything he had. Tonight had to be memorable.

“Assume position, baby,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees and maneuvering behind her. 

“Yes Daddy.” She wasted little time, turning around, spreading her legs apart, teasing him with a quick twerk of her ass cheeks and earning a smack on her butt. He wasted no time either, sliding right into her, both of them moaning as he met little resistance. His hands massaged her ass as he pulled out then pushed back in, working his way into her with slow, gentle thrusts all the way to her hilt. He was so conversant with her pussy; knowing exactly where to position that dick, how to stroke the most sensitive spot inside her that maximized her pleasure; her wetness was already seeping down her thighs and onto the bed.

“Mmm, look how wet you are. You drippin’ for me, babe,” Roman smirked, watching with fascination as his dick disappeared inside her warm wetness. “That’s how you take Daddy’s dick, lemme bust that phat pussy open, baby.” 

“Oooh fuck, Roman, that feels…” 

“Shit feel good, yeah babe?” 

Temporarily robbed of all ability to speak, Jasmine could only moan out the rest of her thoughts, delirious from the feel of his heavy balls slapping her clit, his thighs bumping against hers from behind, and best of all, his big ass dick stretching her open. “Yes, Daddy, oh my god,” she whined, tears filling her eyes. He felt incredible, so sinfully good. How had she ever lived without him?

His fist was in her hair now, bringing her head up off the bed as he thrust harder. His other hand played with her breast from behind and tweaked the bud of her nipple, making him moan as her pussy contracted around him. He leaned down to nuzzle her throat, his lips ghosting over her jawline until she turned her face to him and let him claim her mouth with his. 

After a few minutes of taking her in this position, he pulled out and flipped her onto her back. Climbing on top of her, he patted his girthy dick against her softened folds before pushing back inside. His long, damp locks cascaded down his strong shoulders, framing his gorgeous features. Her hands reached up to caress his face, then gripped the back of his neck to pull his mouth to hers. He hitched her left leg under the crook of his arm and then the right, opening her up for him to pound her out. Her back arched with a moan, her pussy tightening around his thick length as he plunged deep into her over and over. Moving her legs up onto his shoulders, he went to town, feeding her with long, lavish strokes that found every sweet spot she owned. He was on a mission, almost obsessed with his need to pleasure her, to make her feel things she’d never felt before, things he'd been feeling for her since the very beginning of their relationship.

“You feel fuckin’ amazing, Jasmine.” His voice was so deep and rough in her ear and dripped with pure lust. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps sprout all over her heated skin. She didn’t know where to put her hands, switching from gripping the bed sheets to grabbing his shoulders before settling on his broad back. Her moans devolved into soft sobs as he kept up the dizzying onslaught. He brought his face closer to hers and kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she said, her jaw dropping as her eyes flickered to the spot where their bodies connected, watching his dick drill and grind into her like he was searching for oil. “Oh my god, Daddy, you’re fuckin' the shit outta me…”

“I keep telling you this pussy good, babe,” Roman said, licking the seam of her lips. “Wet and tight as fuck…you make me wanna come all up in it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to respond, not with the way he was holding her down to the bed and winding his hips, making his dick massage her spot. Her pussy rippled around him yet again and she panted heavily, her toes curling behind his head as she whined his name. Hearing his name pour from her lips and the way she moaned and cried and begged snapped something deep within Roman. He pounded her pussy harder, gazing at her with bright, lust-filled eyes, “I can tell you’re close, baby. Let it go. Come again for me,” he cajoled her.

On command, her orgasm washed over her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she screamed, her body convulsing beneath him from the barrage of pleasure. Ecstatic. Overwhelming. All of that and more.

Roman pulled out of her and looked on, proud of his handiwork as he watched his lover squirm and gasp beneath him, squeezing her thighs together as pleasure ravaged her entire being. Opening her legs wide again, he loomed over her, guiding his dick back inside her and pushing home. He had all the pleasure she could ever want, and he was going to give it all to her. As her back arched off the bed, he seized the chance to wrap his arms around her and hoist her upright so she was on top of him. 

“Come on, ride your Samoan stallion,” he instructed, smacking her backside in encouragement.

Recovering from her shudders, Jasmine steadied herself on top of him. With her knees up, she rested her hands on his abs and began to fuck him, dragging that pussy back and forth on his dick. She leaned down and brushed their mouths together, then sat back up to ride him a little harder. It was her turn to hold him down to the bed as her wet pussy slid up and down his cock, engulfing his length with the tightness of her walls. Looking up at her, eyes dilated, deep caramel skin glistening with sweat, full breasts bouncing and her lips parted in exertion, Roman nearly lost it right then. She had him growling and panting as she dropped down on his cock again and again and again, taking him deep. He ran his hand up her stomach and between her breasts until they closed around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her audibly bite back a moan. With his other hand, he held onto her waist, planted his feet on the bed, and raised his hips to push his dick up against her g-spot at the perfect angle to make her shiver against him.

"Unnnnhhhh..." she groaned, her thighs shaking and quaking at his sides.

"Mm-hmm, I know that's the spot right there, sweetheart. You gon' come for me. Nut on Daddy's cock, baby girl, give it to me," he whispered, grinding up into her, tightening his grasp around her throat. He was slipping inside her far too easily, yet she was still so tight. He moaned as on cue, she clenched around him, her strangled cry vibrating through them both as she gushed like a fountain all over his groin.

"Fuuuck..." Jasmine's head rocked backwards as her body shook, whimpering, her breathing raspy. The climax was so powerful that she couldn't think straight. Roman moaned and thrust upwards into her, faster, harder, drowning in the wet squelching of her tight pussy, increasing his pleasure and hers. His breaths came in ragged bursts and his muscles tensed, his toes curling as he tumbled into his own release. He emptied himself inside her, his own body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through every nerve ending of his.

He barely felt her soft kiss on his cheek afterwards, barely felt her hand steer his face to meet her mouth, their lips and tongues sweeping together in the tastiest, most sensual of kisses. As they moaned into each other’s mouths, his senses came alive again, luxuriating in their post-coital embrace. He was almost disappointed when she finally dismounted him, and he shuddered as her skin smoothed lazily over his, the memory of being inside her setting his skin afire. Her beautiful face was flushed with satisfaction as she stared down at her lover. 

"Damn, baby, fuck,” she moaned, smoothing out her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. Roman watched her with mischief in his eyes.

“You good, baby girl?" he teased. "Didn't wear you out, did I?"

"Pfft. You know I handled that good dick, Daddy," she replied, her brown eyes still cloudy in the afterglow. She snuggled closer to him, her arm slung over his waist. "This is the real reason I ain’t never letting you go. You put it down on me so good, babe. Imma glue my pussy to your cock at this point.”

They both burst out laughing at the weird imagery before falling into a comfortable silence. When Roman spoke again, his tone was more serious. "Honestly, I can’t wait for all this running and hiding to be over," he said.

"It will be. Soon,” Jasmine promised.

Roman reached up to caress her face, gazing intently at her. "You sound so sure."

The former F.L.O.R.A agent bit her lip and nodded slowly. "We will. We’ll make it out of this. I trust you and I trust our abilities together. But for now...we need to get some sleep.”

“Do we?” 

Raising her eyebrows, she watched his hand close over her breast, kneading the round soft flesh. The lazy flicks of his fingers over her peaked, sensitive nipple made her gasp. “Ro…”

"Baby, we could be dead by tomorrow," he said, his voice deep and serious as he looked into her eyes. "Until then, I wanna spend every waking second in your arms, to be buried inside you for as long as I can until we get there. I hope you don't mind."

Jasmine felt an overwhelming surge of love and heartache at his words as she realized that indeed, this could be the last time they would be together like this. "I guess not," she finally succumbed, looking on as he rolled back on top of her, his mouth tugging her nipples in a string of wet, sloppy kisses that had her pussy aching again. At his hungry expression, she swallowed hard, growing weak for him as she felt his hardness rub against the mound of her pussy.

Pulling her thigh over his waist, he kissed her lips, slipping his tongue inside her mouth as he massaged his cock between their bodies. "I love you, Jasmine. I’ll still love you long after I’m gone," he declared, his voice heavy with emotion.

Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. "I love you, Roman. I love you until my last breath. I will love you even more after that," she whispered. She returned his tender kiss, feeling him grip the back of her thigh, lifting her body against him as he sank back into her warm, inviting depths…

-----------------

She sat up in bed as she watched him sleep. With tears in her eyes, she watched the way his chest rose and fell, his breathing deep and even. The sheets were draped over his hip, right below the V-shaped contour on his hip bone. His tousled hair swept over his face, and she gently raked it back, letting her fingers graze his chiseled cheek. Staring at him for one moment longer, she then shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and chased all her emotions back into the recesses of her mind, allowing the calm ruthlessness she used to be known for to take over her entire being once again. Her features were hardened, passive, as she got up from the bed, limped over to the ceiling to floor window and made the call she'd been waiting to make since leaving Rose behind.

A female voice answered the other end of the line. "Identify."

"Four, one, three, six, eight, five, six," Jasmine answered, walking over to stand next to the glass door leading to the balcony.

A tense pause followed, then, "Your identification has been expunged from our records."

They'd erased her already. She expected that. "I have a package for the boss. For both of them. It's something they want. Urgently."

The female voice went quiet again. Several seconds passed before she spoke again. "Where would you like to make your delivery?"

"Somewhere public, covered. No clean shots."

"There may be no guarantee to that."

"I don't give a fuck, Petunia. Yeah, I know it's you. You better guarantee it, or I'll hang up and this conversation never happened." The tone of Jasmine's voice was hard, menacing. "Then you'll never see me or him again, and you know I can make that happen."

Once more, the other end of the line was silent, contemplative. "Where do you have in mind?"

She gave the coordinates and ended the call. She cast a glance towards the bed again. Roman was still asleep. She looked back out into the horizon, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in thought. The sun was rising, bleeding red. The significance was not lost on her.

------------------

We're getting closer to the end.

Credit to the owners of the gifs.

[wewindondowntheroad]

daisuga nsfw smut fic recs below

My own subjective favorite Daisuga smut list for hotness and quality and kinky things that I find tasty:

Included are (mostly) self contained, not necessarily pwp but sometimes... all smut-forward stories, if you will. Amount of plot contained may vary. (Excluded from this list are works where smut is not the main focus, also I haven't read all dsg smut in existence so please be kind) (also, that being said, if you've got recs of your own please send them my way)

Note: some of these are locked to archive users only and i would definitely recommend getting an ao3 account in this age of AI scraping bullshit.

I've divided them up into some categories but you'll see there are some places where they overlap.

ALSO!! and I can't stress this enough!!!: please mind the tags, you are responsible for your own experience out here in the wild these are all M, E & Not Rated fics

general

Cuffed by NinjaSpaz Soft but not Fragile by unscheduledmakeouts stay the night by schiggy Ravenous and Revved by UhohShouto Operation Spice by karasunovolleygays search my thoughts by sweggscelent Melt in Your Mouth by jellyfish_kuchen Press of a Button by BumbleBeeBri Accounts of Lasciviousness by Opplet (2 stand alone chapters)

dom/sub dynamics

Behave. by ChaoticFriendly Weather the Storm by HamletsProzac Coffee Date by socksaregoodshit (bottom daichi) Clean Your Mess by yezh you weren't meant to see that (of course there's joy in the mundane) by gaygoyle (bottom daichi) “If he is clever and good” by GreenyLove Workout by orphan_account Just a Little More by dionyjinsus

multichap

Vice by ChaoticFriendly To Ashes by gingahtigah Bound Desires by bealovelylady (bottom daichi) little punches by bishounen_curious (bottom daichi) Taberu Rayu by suspiciousflashlight (very mild but oh so funny)

consensual non-consent

catch me, never let me go by gingahtigah (omegaverse) run little rabbit by Sai (vampire fic)

in a skirt

Team Spirit by schiggy (bottom daichi) Pleats and Pleasure by hisboywriter

soft:

High for this by WildKitte All Your Ways by Namistrella Sunrise and Silk by UhohShouto (bottom daichi) Beautiful by sinkat_arts (bottom daichi) sweet summer rain by WildKitte

omegaverse:

At Your Service by BumbleBeeBri

[talentforlying]

@handgiven: ❝i’m fine. you’re the one who got stabbed.❞ fallen em moments u.u — SIX OF CROWS STARTERS

' fine my arse. you're fuckin' bleeding. '

the rest of the sentence fades out to static, bullied back by the instinct he follows to catch em firmly by the chin and tilt his face up for better inspection, stiff and unsteady fingers fumbling for a pocket hankie ( thank christ he never fully gave up on the desire to dress pretentiously ) to crumple in his fist and dab at the dark streak sliding down from em's hairline. he still hasn't gotten used to this: the stomach-dropping, tilt-a-whirl feeling of finding em after a fight and seeing dings and scrapes and bruises. even now that it's become more common, now that em doesn't have a halo to beam down holy armor from the angelic mothership — especially now that it's become more common, now that they both know a nick at the wrong junction could puncture clay like plant roots in soil — constantine can't fucking get used to it.

devotion's simple enough to stomach when it doesn't cost anything, when the person giving it's got plenty to spare and has a finger on the scale strong enough to keep themself level. it's a different story entirely when you're the one responsible for ensuring they make it out alive at the end of the day.

( em's choice, to keep following him in. em's decision to take the hits and risk his newly-under-nine lives. still constantine's responsibility, because . . . because he owes it. because he owes em. )

it's only once he can see the edges of the laceration, shallow enough not to be life-threatening, that his lungs kick back into active service again, the release of air dropping his shoulders like the limbs of a cut marionette. then the static clears, leaving him blinking blankly, hands retreating to absently pat down his own chest for a cursory triage. ' . . . 'ang on, stabbed? how d'you mean, stabbed, i'm perfectly — oh, fuck me. '

yeah, being stabbed would account for the hot and sticky something that's been running down his forearm and pooling in the crease of his elbow, wouldn't it? it'd account for the smeared fingerprints he's left on em's cheek, too. and, you know, there's the searing fucking burn in the center of his right palm where the perforation's gone clean through, now that he's noticed it. hard to buff that one out.

he looks up at the expression on em's face and just can't help it: he laughs, a nervous giggle that sounds an awful lot like shock, wiggling his claret-colored fingers in a gruesome sort of cooee. ' look — guess i'm the hole-y one now. '

[bloodgutsanengelskiss]

This is a part 3 / chapter 3 !

Ao3 account (full 4 chapters on there and I update first) :

Link to chapter 1 :

Link to chapter 2:

Scarlet Secrets

--

Fandom: Criminal minds

Relationships: Spencer Reid / Elle greenaway , Spencer Reid & Elle greenaway

Tags/ warnings : drugs | drug use | drug addictions ( not in this Chapter but main plot point ) | (drinking addiction in a later chapter too) | hurt Spencer Reid | hurt Elle greenaway | they both need hugs | sometimes they get them ,sometimes they don't | unsub team Elle and spencer | major Charecter death | graphic depictions of violence

Synopsis: Spencer Reid struggles with his addiction and isolation after being kidnapped and Elle is the only one looking out for him ( oh and she has a secret, a really big one )

A/N: This is my first ever uploaded multiple-chapter work, and English isn't my first language, so I'm extremely open to criticism. I hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 3 : silence

-

A/N : hope you like the point of view switch (just for a chapter !) , also I'm so sad because I'm getting like zero engagement especially on ao3 , anyways , enjoy

--

Elle's POV:

Elle stood in the dimly lit alley, the cold night air almost blew her wig away and she fixed it. She looked down at the lifeless body at her feet, the man's face was contorted in agony, his blood pooling beneath him like a puddle of red wine.

She carefully lifted the body, the weight of it feeling heavier than ever before. Despite the chill in the air, sweat beaded on her forehead as she maneuvered the corpse into the nearby dumpster. The metallic clang of the lid closing echoed in the stillness of the night, sealing away the dead man.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Elle's mind wandered to her next steps. She needed to clean up, to erase the traces of evidence.

Elle made her way back to her fake social services truck and made her way to her apartment. The weight of her actions hung heavy on her like the weight of the dead man, but she pushed aside any feelings of guilt or remorse. This was her mission, her purpose. She couldn't afford to falter now, especially not when the FBI, apparently the BAU, her own former team was investigating her case. She found it ironically funny and almost like a challenge.

Back in the privacy of her own space, Elle took off her bloodstained clothes in the sink, and cleaned her bat and knife, putting the knife in a rack in the kitchen. Then went back to the sink to wash the clothes with her baking soda paste. The familiar ritualistic routine brought her a sense of calm.

As she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her reflection stared back at her, and she looked down to avoid her own eyes. She washed away the grime and blood, watching the water swirl down the drain until it was transparent. It was a cleansing ritual, a way to rid herself of the sins of her and her victims.

Once cleaned up, Elle sank onto her couch, exhausted. And she reached for the remote, turning the TV on. She scrolled through the channels, the news reports of her actions both unsettling and oddly validating. Finding nothing interesting she turned off the TV with a sigh.

Her thoughts drifted to Spencer. It had been weeks since she had heard from him, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. She hated that he stayed in the FBI, she believed he had so much potential outside working for the government, but She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with him and she was just worried.

She picked up her phone from the coffee table and scrolled through her contacts, pausing when she found Spencer, saved in her phone as "dumbass genius", an oxymoron, as Reid had told her. She pressed the call button but was immediately sent to voice mail. Frustrated, Elle decided to go check on Spencer.

She lazily got dressed, cursing him under her breath, then got into her car and drove to his apartment. Using the spare key he had given her long ago, she let herself into his apartment. The familiar chaos of books and papers greeted her but the apartment was so messy she half expected someone else to be living there.

Elle quickly figured out that Spencer wasn't home and she made herself at home, settling on his couch after pushing his stuff to the side. She resisted the urge to tidy up the place, knowing that he would be upset if she moved anything out of place, and decided to busy herself by watching TV and eating some leftovers he had in the fridge.

After warming up a box of cold pizza in the microwave, she grabbed a plate and plopped herself onto the couch. As she leaned over to get the remote from the coffee table, her hands accidentally sent something tumbling to the floor. The room filled with the sharp shatter of glass, Echoing in her ears.

She glanced down at the shattered mess on the floor and confusion knit her brows as she puzzled over what had fallen. She crouched down and carefully picked up the broken pieces, her fingers tracing the outline of the glass vial. Slowly, realization dawned on her, her heart skipping a beat as she comprehended the implications of what she held in her hands.

Oh my God, Spencer .

-

Next chapter:

[ask-de-writer]

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to CLASSICAL FANTASIES

THE FISHERMAN'S LEG (Part 7 of 20)

A sequel to Dee 1/2 Demon

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

7763 words (work in progress)

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

New to the story? Read from the beginning HERE.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

From the Shop of Repairs, the girls were watching what was happening at the Fish Market. Dee shook her head as she saw the Fisherman receive some sort of legal notice. Head drooping, he shuffled off while his wife stayed at the counter.

Miko watched too and told the others, “I could not say anything earlier because it was Tribunal business. This morning Madam Minami san came to Magistrate Lim with their household accounts. I had to prepare a number of documents connected to how he was getting the money to pay all of those fines of his. He was taking the cash from her dower right, which is illegal unless she consents, which she did not. There was a good deal more too. To recover her embezzled funds, she has seized the Fish Market and undone his blacklist.

“There is more but I cannot speak of it.”

Patsu pointed with a giggle, “Look! There is Minami again but now he is leading the Sea Lion's crew! They are headed to the docks. You don't suppose that they are going to take it out fishing, do you?”

Satsuna pointed, “They are! They have pushed off and are raising the sail! This late in the day, that square sail of theirs won't really be that much help.”

Under oars and sail, the Sea Lion was soon lost to sight.

They were surprised when young Ichuru came to their shop and bowed properly to them as he asked, “Good Dee san, can you and your friends please come the Fish Market? Mother Minami san cannot leave her shop and she is alone.”

Patsu smiled at his careful good manners and replied, “We sure can, Ichuru san. We can go get some bento boxes from our market. We will close our Shop of Repairs for lunch and eat over at your mom's Fish Market. Let her know that we will be right along.”

The girls all went up to Sabo's Better Fish Market. They picked up six bento boxes. Strolling across the market place, Patsu stopped by Farmer Cachu's and bought some of their honey almond peach candies too.

Smiling at Madam Minami, Dee gave her a bento box for her and one for her son, Ichuru. “You have asked us to come, Madam Minami san, and we are here. What can we do besides offer you a bento for lunch?”

Bowing to them as she opened her bento and took off the top tray to begin eating, she replied, “Thank you, Dee san. Begin by using my given name of Tanira.

“My foolish husband has so tarnished the reputation of this Fish Market that I have had none ask about my sign for helpers. Beyond that, if he had a scale for weighing catches, I cannot find it and I will be needing one soon. Can you help me with these things?”

Dee bowed back and finished her bite of rice before answering, “We can indeed help you. It is my suspicion that he will bar you from his ice house out of his spite. If he does let us know. We will see you supplied with good clean ice.

“The scale we can put aside a few minor tasks for and have it made this afternoon. We know that you are presently in tight straits for cash. We can allow you the time to pay for it from the market's earnings.”

Miko bowed to her and added, “Tanira san, for the time being, until you can get suitable help, we have six other emancipated minors working for us. We will let you have the services of Minara, who is very quick with the abacus and Takahara, who is nearly as strong as Patsu san.

“They need to be paid five of copper cash daily. Again, let us know if there is difficulty and we will help. We do know how bad the wreck that Minami has left you is. We will do our best to help you recover.”

That evening, down on the dock, Takahara was helping to set up the scale and payment board. She offered, “Tanira san, it is a pleasure to work with you. You have been so polite and clear about what you want. Minara san and I have enjoyed everything so far.”

Down the dock, Minara was signaling the fishing boats to their places to tie up. The Sea Lion ignored her, and charged up to the front of the line, by the scale. Minami demanded, “What are these worthless girls doing here? Give me three silver cash for my catch and be done with it!”

Tanira instantly froze with rage. “NO! Minami, for your rudeness go to the back of the line, NOW!”

“Pay me for my fish, woman, and I will move, not before!”

Stiff with rage, her voice gone very gentle, she replied, “My name is Tanira. You will beg my pardon for your public rudeness and go to the back of the line. Understand this clearly. The Fish Market is MINE alone. I do not have to buy so much as a sardine from you.”

He was about to make a hot retort when the boat rocked severely as one of his crewmen pushed him aside and released the Sea Lion's painter from the cleat and pushed them free. The others bent to their oars and moved the boat to the back of the line. To Minami's incoherent shouting, one of the others overrode him, snapping, “Shut up, Minami san! We want to get paid!”

The next boat, Fish Seeker, was far more polite and cooperative. Amazed, her captain said, “Tanira san, you really want these mud sharks? Mianmi always made us kill them and throw them back!”

She nodded a bow and replied, “We do indeed Catino san. Take this stick for a measure. Let smaller ones go to grow up. Take the bigger ones for us.”

He grinned as he handed Takahara the fish to load into the scale. Minara's abacus beads clicked and a note was added to the ticket.

Soon Captain Catino took the payment ticket with thanks and asked, “So, Tanira san, Magistrate Lim will simply dispense us full payment today? We don't need to wait?”

“Correct, Catino san. Get the cash and divide it among your crew by your agreement. If you choose to go out tomorrow instead of resting, I will see that the scale is waiting for you.”

As the Sea Lion was secured to the mooring cleats, Minami stood and snapped, “Don't bother with . . .”

His words ended in a splash as one of his crewmen simply pushed him out of the boat! The weigh in went smoothly and politely after that.

A crewman grumped, “We'd have at least three or four times as many fish if Minami hadn't broken the pulling sheve block and the rope too.”

Leaving him struggling in the water, where he finally realized that it was shallow enough to wade to shore, his men took their note of payment and went to see Magistrate Lim.

To be Continued

<==PREVIOUS ~~ NEXT==>

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[medicinemane]

And maybe you'll be like "but if you don't trust businesses, how can you trust welfare?"

I fucking don't. My mom trying to get on food stamps fucked me up because a lady I never met without my permission got my SSN from my mom and started editing my files. My heart still races to this very second whenever I think about it, it kinda messed me up bad and I'll never ever ever see any kind of recourse

And I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose my medicaid just cause I inherited some money from my grandpa

And I've never even applied for disability cause it kinda doesn't matter finding out if I'd qualify or not cause of my depression, when the rules are so restrictive I don't know if I've even be allowed to keep my house

I do not fucking trust these things on a personal level. I feel like out of a lot of people I have the most to fear from them cause I'm on the edge of having things work, and that gets you punished

...but I need medicaid in order to have insurance (and when you strip out the finance side of medicaid, I love medicaid... they're honestly incredible insurance... I just... I just... dental is like 90% of why medicaid is so important to me, ever since I found out this state pays for it I've actually been able to do cleanings which is important to me cause I can't always get myself to brush)

And I think things like disability and food stamps are pretty damn important on a personal level, and honestly are also good for the economy cause they get people spending... it's practically a free cash infusion into the economy, cause these are people who need to buy stuff

There's just so much important stuff welfare does that it's worth dealing with government

No, what I want is more accountability so if someone gets my SSN from a 3rd party like my mom they're held to HIPPA styles standards where that's not ok to access my files without my permission (She changed my fucking address and tried to get medicaid to investigate me for fraud! Never even met me)

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

Secondly I want less punitive focused rules. I'd frankly prefer bezos get on disability than smack down some poor sod cause they got $2000 in the bank or cause their friend lets them live with them for free

If there's gonna be a cut off on these programs, it needs to be a solid step above the poverty line, cause... by definition I assume poverty line denotes kinda the minimum expected income people can reasonably live off of, and if you take away benefits people are gonna lose a chunk of money to covering that stuff themself, so you need a buffer before you kick people off

I don't fucking trust the government for a second, I've actively been fucked by them and on a personal level I avoid everything but medicaid and only that cause everything but the money is pleasant to deal with and I kinda need it (honestly if I was rich I'm not even kidding that I'd rather give medicaid like $400 a month than some insurance company, I sincerely like them as insurance)

But I'd trust them a lot more if they were less punitive, less out to hunt me down and gut me cause someone handed me a fiver or cause I started to get on my feet, and if government employees had concrete rules they had to follow that were actually transparent and enforced

Like 90% of my problems with welfare go away if they're held accountable and there's less "catch the welfare cheats" mentality going around

I don't trust the government in the slightest, but sadly there some jobs it kinda has to do, so I'd just rather force it to be an open book where the public can keep an eye on it and if they step out of line there's consequences (sort of like I don't trust most mega corps but happen to sometimes need stuff from them... did you know literally every cell service provider has been illegally selling shit like your location data to random people like bounty hunters, and the FCC just slapped them with a fine that's 0.02% of their yearly incomes and debated even doing that? I even can offer a source on that)

...I don't trust much of any authority cause they constantly fail me and kinda screw me. Don't trust doctors either, but I still gotta go to them, you know? ...they're just... they're real bad at listening... so many systems need systemic change

(You know who I really don't trust is the cops. I could point to so many examples. My uncle doesn't trust cops either, and he's an ex Fire and SWAT paramedic, he worked with them and we still got into a long conversation where he basically tore into them far better than I can)

(I don't trust authority that's not accountable)