#Classic day is Thursday.

[clit-a-cola]

A new day and hopefully a better day!

Just aside from coffee I'm not sure what to do with it.....

[marciliedonato]

Girl I'm at the 21st night of September. I'm at the Feliz jueves. I'm at the out of touch thursday. I'm at the joint 21st night of September feliz out of touch jueves event.....

[myimaginaryradio]

Glory Days - Bruce Springsteen

[m4movies]

Lunch Mood

[britcision]

So like it’s not gonna be soon or consistent but I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again so this is your One Warning Delicious in Dungeon crowd

Magic Lube Thursday may be making a comeback.

We even get the new anime episodes on Thursdays it’s perfect

[shedontlovehuhself]

Misha going throwback Thursday on us😁

And a baby Philip appearance.

[sturniqlo]

KINKTOBER WEEK 3 | SMASH OR PASS- M.S

summary: where playing smash or pass with fictional characters turns into something more with matt

cw: cursing, SMUT; slight dom!matt, making out, fingering, unprotected p in v, backshots, creampie, spanking, hair pulling, aftercare

an: happy smutday- i mean thursday!!

masterlist | kinktober | join my taglist

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

tonight, y/n and her best friend, matt, were having a sleepover. before the night even started, matt had picked her up from her place and drove the two of them to the store to buy snacks and drinks for the night ahead of them.

as they walked around the grocery store, she had realized just how full the cart has gotten. "fuck, we've gotta get rid of some stuff." she picked up a random bag of peanuts. "bro, i didn't even realize how full it got." he giggled, picking up a few snacks he actually wanted.

once they arrived back at her place, it was matt's turn to order dinner for the two of them. "how's pizza sound?" he asked, his phone open to the postmates. "so good, get a stuffed crust, please." she looked at him with pleading eyes. "i will, i will." she smiled, she then went back to look for a movie.

that was a few hours ago. they were now playing smash or pass. "okay, okay, uh- the guy from tangled." matt snaps his fingers trying to think of his name. "flynn rider?" he nods. "oh i'd smash him any day. he can break into my tower." she smirks, taking a sip from her soda can.

"you're insane." matt laughs. "okay, my turn. let's see... betty boop." she looks at him. "smash... that's a classic, too easy. give me another one." she smirks at the thought. "fine.." she thinks for a few seconds before speaking.

"me." she smirks, raising her eyebrows at him. "y- you?" he stutters. "me." she confirms. "i- i would." he gulps, feeling himself grow hard at the thought. there had been far too many thoughts of her in that situation. "you would what?" she scoots closer to him. "y/n.." matt whispers.

"you would what, matt?" she repeats, feeling herself getting wet at the way he said her name. "smash." he finally says. "yeah? you'd fuck me?" she grabs a hold of his chin, bringing their faces inches apart. "i've been thinking about it for so fucking long." he wastes no time, brings his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

"mmm." she hums in satisfaction, feeling his soft lips on hers. their kiss hard and messy. she pulls away for a second, pushing him back so that he rests against the back of the couch. climbing onto his lap, matt's hands come to rest on her hips. "are you okay with this?" she asks him. "more than okay." he smiles before closing the gap again.

their tongues fight for dominance, his winning so he now has control. her hips roll against his and she feels his hard bulge. "so hard already, matt." she mumbles against his lips. "all for you, babe." he grips her ass in his hands. she gasps at the sudden feeling.

as they keep making out on the couch, she pulls away and throws her hoodie off of her and tosses it somewhere in her living room, leaving her in her bra. "fuck." matt groans at the sight of her cleavage. "can i?" matt presses a kiss on her shoulder, his finger ghosting over her bra strap. "yes, take it off for me."

his hand comes behind her back, easily unclasping her bra. he lets it fall down her arms before grabbing it and tossing it with her sweater. "so beautiful, look at you." he mumbles, awing at the sight of her tits. her nipples hardening at the change in temperature. matt brings his hands up and squeezes one in his hand, running his thumb over her nipple. she gasps.

"you like that, yeah?" he smirks, rolling the bud between two fingers, hearing her whimper. she nods, rolling her hips against him some more. "stand up." he says lowly, patting her thigh. she does as he says and he stands behind her, moving her loose hair over her left shoulder. pressing wet kisses along the exposed skin of her neck. she sighs in pleasure, leaning her head against his shoulder.

matts hands come around her her waist, caressing the soft skin of her belly, slowing creeping down to the waistband of her short. "take these off for me, please." he says into her ear, fiddling with the button. she hums, replacing his hands with hers, unbuttoning her jean shorts and letting them pool around her feel. "good girl." his hand comes back down, slightly touching her covered cunt. she practically moans at the pet name.

"on the couch." he nips on her neck and pats the side of her thigh. she nods, getting on all fours on the couch. her forearms resting on the head of the couch, and her ass sticking out. matt discards of his shirt, coming up behind her and rubbing his hand over her ass cheek. "so pretty." he mumbles, kissing up her spine. his hands runs up her body.

he then pulls back, admiring her almost naked body. he looks at her thin grey thong that already had a wet patch. "look at you, already so wet for me." his fingertip tracing her covered slit. "matt." she whines, arching her back at the small, yet teasing touch. "what, baby?" he smirks knowing she's getting impatient, just wanting him to do something.

"please." she turns her head around to see him and wiggles her ass against him as he leans his front against her. he groans at the contact, his cock feeling suffocated under his underwear and jeans. "so needy, yeah?" matt spanks her. she jolts at the sudden impact, the sting hurting so good. "again." she leans her head against her arm. "you like that? such a dirty girl." he rubs his hand over the red skin before hitting that same spot again, making her whimper.

matt looks down and sees that the wet patch on her thong has grown. he curses under his breath knowing he caused that. he wastes no time in booking his finger on the sides of the material and slides them down to her thighs. she helps him out but lifting each one of her knees so he can slip them completely off. she spreads her legs a bit more, giving him a better view of her dripping pussy.

matt sees her glistening core and grows harder, unbuttoning his pants to give him a bit more freedom. "so wet." he whispers, dipping his fingers into her hole, collecting some of her wetness. "please, matt." she's had enough of his teasing. "okay, okay. i'll give you want you want." he leans and gives her shoulder a kiss.

finally, he slides his two fingers from her hole down to her clit. he circles the sensitive bud. "shit- just like that." she pushes her ass back, moaning. "you like that?" his fingers moving back up to her hole. pushing two of his fingers in slowly, letting her get used to the feeling. "f- fuck!" she gasps, feeling his long fingers massaging her walls.

"so good, matt." y/n says. matt pumps his fingers faster, seeing his fingers shining with her arousal when they slip out. "keep- keep going." she starts to feel the pressure build up in her lower belly. matt can feel her pussy clenching around his fingers and slips out before she can get closer to her climax. "matt." she whimpers at the loss of contact.

"sorry, baby. i want you to come on my cock." he licks his fingers clean. "taste so good." y/n turns on her back and sees matt with a flustered look on his face, shirtless and his unbuttoned pants. she brings her arms out and matt hovers over her his hands coming to rest besides her head. her arms go around his neck. thier lips colliding into a messy kiss. y/n can taste herself on his tongue.

"gonna fuck you now, back on your knees." he cups her cheek, pressing one last kiss on her lips. she smirks at his words and turns back around into her original position, arching her back a bit more. matt slips his pants off along with his boxers, letting his hard cock spring up. he rubs himself a couple of times before running his leaking tip along her folds.

"y'ready, baby?" he bites back a groan. "yes- fuck." she whimpers. matt, slowly pushes his cock in holding her hips to steady himself. "oh- you're so big." she cries, feeling his dick stretch her out. matt groans as soon as he bottoms out, looking down to where they're connected, seeing her hold stretch out to accommodate to his size.

"move- please move." she puts her hand over his that rests on her hip. matt nods even though she isn't facing him. he starts to thrust in and out of her. "oh fuck!" she throws her head to the side.

"feel so good wrapped around me, baby. shit!" he slaps her ass cheek. seeing the skin turn red. "matt!" he groans feeling her pussy clench around his dick. "squeezing me so hard." matt reaches up and wraps her long hair around her hand, slightly pulling on it. "yes- yes!" she moans at the stinging of her scalp. matt pulls on the makeshift ponytail until she's on her knees leaning flush against his chest.

matt continues thrusting into her from behind, kissing along her neck and moaning into her skin hearing her moan from him hitting deep spots inside of her. "fuck- i'm so- i'm so close." she brings a hand behind his head and turning her head so they can meet in a kiss. "mm." she hums into the kiss. matt pulls away from the kiss, holding her chin in his hand. "come for me, come all over my dick."

"yes- gonna come for you." she whines, her eyes fluttering in pleasure. with a couple more thrusts she's cums. "fuck! i'm cumming!" she turns limp against him. matt rides her through her high and he then cums inside of her. "so good." she mumbles. "you did so good for me, babe." he coos, moving bits a pieces of her hair from her face.

matt carries her from the couch to her room to clean her up. knowing her place like the back of his hand, he knows where to get a rag. he cleans himself off before going to back to her and wiping the cum that is seeping out of her. she slightly hissed. "m' sorry, almost done." he kisses her thigh. matt gets her to pee before changing her into a pair of sweatpants and hoodie.

"well, i'd say 'smash or pass' was a great game since it ended up with us fucking." matt says as he lays on her. "you're unbelievable, matt." she giggles. "answer this one f'me, smash or pass... jack skellington." he looks up at her.

"smash."

[harryspet]

lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately.  At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it. 

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow. 

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him. 

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in. 

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again. 

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”. 

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest. 

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness. 

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath? 

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him. 

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not. 

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages. 

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was. 

You didnd’t know any better, but he did. 

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again. 

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.” 

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him. 

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?” 

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were. 

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth. 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit. 

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you. 

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched. 

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued. 

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before. 

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate. 

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.” 

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away. 

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.  

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club. 

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet. 

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft. 

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck. 

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape. 

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him. 

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you. 

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face. 

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air. 

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied. 

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you. 

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach. 

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong. 

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts. 

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way. 

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed. 

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt. 

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening. 

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea. 

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly. 

“So?” He replied dismissevly. 

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up. 

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury. 

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small. 

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings. 

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.” 

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable. 

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink. 

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard. 

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm. 

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like. 

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck. 

You melted against him. 

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere. 

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced. 

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple. 

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies. 

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious. 

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes. 

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end. 

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you. 

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further. 

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered. 

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together. 

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water,  “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual. 

You kept sinking. 

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants. 

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you. 

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together. 

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,”  Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him. 

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of. 

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips. 

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him. 

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[lilyprettyremy]

The Glam Life: daily routines for a polished life. 💋

Sunday: Reset & Reflect Start with a deep cleanse—face mask, detox tea, and a peaceful journal session. Reflect on the past week, set intentions for the next, and list three things you’re grateful for. This is your day to unwind, reset, and prep for success.

Monday: Fresh Blowout & Big Shades Start the week strong with a fresh blowout. Smooth, glossy, and ready to conquer. Pair with oversized sunglasses for that mysterious, empowered look. Bring an extra boost by planning a bold outfit that makes you feel invincible.

Tuesday: Brows & Browsing Shape your brows to perfection—it’s a small detail that makes a huge impact on your overall look. Afterward, treat yourself to a quick scroll through your favorite style inspiration, bookmarking anything that makes you feel iconic. Style starts with inspiration.

Wednesday: Mani & Diamond Shine Keep your nails sharp and sophisticated, opting for a classic French or deep red. Slip on a ring or two (or five). Hands tell a story, so make sure yours speak of elegance and confidence. Midweek is the perfect time to touch up on hydration, too—think hand creams and cuticle oils.

Thursday: Exfoliate & Hydrate Buff away the week’s worries with a luxe body scrub, followed by a rich, hydrating body lotion or oil. Glowing, smooth skin radiates confidence, so keep it moisturized and ready to be admired. Pair with a hydrating face mask to keep everything refreshed.

Friday: Glow Serum, Gloss, & Signature Scent Skip the self-tan and reach for a brightening glow serum instead. This will give your skin a fresh, natural radiance that looks effortlessly luminous. Follow with a glossy lip and your signature scent to add allure. Enter the weekend looking polished, radiant, and ready to take on any room with grace and confidence.

Saturday: Active Beauty & Leisure Today, beauty meets movement. Whether it’s a dance class, yoga, or a brisk walk, get active and enjoy the natural glow that follows. Afterward, embrace leisure: light a candle, sip on your favorite drink, and give yourself permission to relax with a facial roller or a nourishing hair mask. You deserve it.

Each day brings a fresh intention and a luxurious touch to keep you feeling powerful and radiant all week long. It's a full week of showing up as your best self—stylish, strong, and completely in your element.

[eviesqueezie]

steve randle died on a tuesday, his father’s fist red with his blood. he died in a house he never belonged in, with a man he wished he could hate.

sodapop curtis cried for the whole tuesday, wednesday. then on thursday he was silent, friday he punched darry in the chest over and over to stop the aching in his lungs. saturday he screamed and threw all the plates in the cupboard on the floor, sunday he hugged ponyboy so tight he couldn’t breathe.

it was like life pressed fast forward, until the day of the funeral. on the day of the funeral sodapop curtis drank half a bottle of vodka and chugged as many beers as he could before he threw up. on the day of the funeral he bought as much candy as he could with the pitiful amount he had in his wallet and ate until his sugar crash finally hit. anything to stop that pain in his bones that dragged throughout his body on repeat.

at the funeral he sobbed, fixing steve’s hair the way he would’ve wanted, slipping a dime into his pocket and placing his hand over his heart. he still had a black eye and a busted up lip from his dad, but that’s what made it all the more real.

steve randle died on a tuesday in june, his car sat out in the lot until a thursday in december. it was wrecked by then, mouldy and missing parts- stolen by thieves and starving children. the classic story of the east side.

he died on a tuesday morning and was found dead in the afternoon, bled out over the carpet. staining it for life, the thick smell of pennies filling the air for the rest of eternity.

[ebsmind]

THREE POINTS | nico hischier x fem!reader

summary : after the devils have finally had enough with their losing streak, you make a bet with nico, however many game points he gets against the bruins is how many times you get to cum. good thing nico was determined.

word count : 1.8k

warning(s) : 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk (kind of? idk), dom!nico, this is also not proofread and that’s it i think!

a/n : i started writing this at midnight and i wanted to do it in one sitting but i was TIRED so i finished it when i woke up. i hope this is good bc this is my 3rd time writing smut and i for once actually TRIED and went into writing this confidently. ALSO i got the idea right after they won the game against the bruins so i just had to bless yall with something 😋 OKAY BYE ILY ENJOY!!!

The waning crescent’s luminous hue reflects upon the New Jersey city. The street’s usual busy nature has died down. There's still half an hour left of the day. Most people have gone to bed, ready to start another Thursday. Thank God it’s nearly Friday, but the day hasn’t ended for you. 

Waiting for Nico to return home from a game always took an hour and a half. No less, nor more. So, when Nico pushes the front door to your shared apartment at a striking 11:37, knowing him he checked the mail, it leaves you to no surprise. The overview from the living room gives you a perfect view of the front door. You watch his every move from the sofa, the tailored cushions sit softly upon your skin. He closes the front door and locks it, a loud ‘click’ goes off to confirm that the lock is in place. The mail is the first thing to be tossed, it hits the counter with a soft ‘smack’, and next goes his keys, which were pulled from the left pocket of his trousers. With a sigh, Nico’s left hand runs over his face and once it reaches his chin, he looks forward and makes eye contact with you. 

“Hi, baby.” His accent is still prominent when he speaks, but you find it adorable. He starts walking towards in your direction, you toss the beige linen blanket off of your lap and rise from the couch in response. You take a total of 2 steps before Nico reaches you. Your arms find their place upon Nico’s shoulders almost immediately. His, upon your waist. A whiff of soft vanilla musk hits your nostrils, Nico took a shower at the arena rather than at home. 

“Congrats on the win, my love.” A soft smile forms upon your face. The win was a long time coming, Nico had been working his ass off the past week and it paid off tonight at the Prudential Center. 

“How many points, Schatz?” As Nico questions you, you attempt to break away from the hug but to no avail, Nico’s hands don’t plan on leaving your waist anytime soon. 

“Three, three points.” Your response leaves your mouth almost immediately.  You know where this was going, as promised before he left for the game against the Boston Bruins.

While Nico was picking out his suit for the arrival of today’s game, a quick thought appeared in your head. You stalk quietly behind him, he’s deciding between a classic black suit and a darker red, almost burgundy, tailored suit. Nico can feel your presence behind him, and he turns to face you. 

“I think the black one, no?” As he questions you, his right-hand raises. He’s holding a black tie, and in the other hand is a tie that matches the burgundy suit. You take a second before you give your input. The black suit was a classic but had already been worn, the burgundy has yet to be worn. It’s fairly new, Nico got it back in November but wanted to wait for the right moment to wear it. 

“Black but no tie, you’re going to take it off before you even get to the arena." Nico takes no time to face back in his original direction, taking the black suit that's draped on a wire curtain and returning to the bedroom. You follow suit, watching Nico place the suit on the bed. A soft 'thud' rings in the air when the suit hits the white linen comforter. Before Nico can take a step to head over to the dresser that sits just under the 55-inch flat Roku TV to put away his ties you cut him off with a question.

"Can we make a bet?" Nico reaches the dresser and pulls the drawer open, as he folds the ties he answers your question.

"What kind of bet, Schatz?"

You take a small breath before telling Nico the thought that had crossed your mind nearly minutes ago. "If you score or get any assists, you get to make me cum as how many times you do."

To your dismay, Nico isn't appalled by your suggestion, in fact, he almost challenges you.

"What do I get if I don't?" He's facing you now, hand resting against his hip. A smirk is spread across his lips, he's amused by your proposition. You pause since you didn't even get to think about what would happen if he didn't get any game points.

"I get to finally tie you up." You return his amusable smirk, two can play this game.

"I think we have a deal baby."

The soft squeeze against your hips brings you back from the semi-distance memory. You tilt your head up and look into Nico's dark chocolate-pooled irises, his face written in desire. Before you can form a proper thought, Nico's head tilts into your own and his lips are set against yours. The kiss is soft but as his lips entangle with yours it grows with need. His right hand surfaces up from your hip to cradle your jaw, keeping you in place. Nico deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into your mouth, as much as you try to fight for it, he won’t let you win. He’s finishing something you started, determination is all that Nico is running off of. You run your left hand up his neck and rest it once your fingertips feel a light fuzz. Deciding to wait to play with the hair on the back of his neck, you’ll drive him crazy later. 

At the speed of a lightning strike, Nico picks you up by the waist with one arm, the other previously on your jaw, and finds its place against the back of your thigh. The skin exposed from the small floral shorts that Nico plans to discard later. Nico maneuvers the pair for you to the dining room and places you on top of the cool walnut-colored dining table. His lips finally escape yours, instantly finding themselves on your collarbone in record time. Nico places small kisses upwards on your neck and once they reach a spot they are all too familiar with, his teeth sink into the soft skin. A soft gasp leaves your mouth but then is conceded by a moan when Nico soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. The sound released from the back of your throat goes straight down into Nico’s slacks. Your grip tightens against the back of Nico’s neck, never wanting him to stop. 

Nico quickly detaches himself from your neck to pull off the oversized New Jersey Devils crewneck that you wore. He takes a look at your chest and notices the lacy fabric that hugs the swell of your breasts. The 6’1 hockey player lowers himself to where his lips rest right above your ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, Schatz."

A blush forms across your cheeks as a response to Nico’s statement. Nico has finally had enough and decided to finally put himself useful to his bargain of the bet. He kneels in front of you, eyes connecting with your clothed core. A small wet spot appears on the floral-printed cotton shorts that rest against your hips. His hands come up from his lap and head towards the waistband of your shorts, he grunts to signify for you to lift your hips. Your hands help you steady yourself against the wooden table when you lift your hips so Nico can discard the main article of clothing you have on. Once Nico tosses your shorts and panties aside, he gets a hold of your right leg and lifts it to place it against his shoulder. Before he continues, Nico looks up at you, eyes connecting once again. You take notice how Nico’s pupils look inflamed, filled with lust.

Nico takes hold of the leg that's perched up against his shoulder and slowly starts to kiss his way up your leg. Starting at the base of your ankle to your inner thigh, never breaking eye contact. It’s crazy to think how Nico knows how to get you so hot and bothered quickly but you weren’t one to complain. Especially seeing him on his knees getting ready to devour you. 

Before Nico digs in for his midnight snack, he brings his hands to rest on your waist once again. He guides you to sit at the edge of the table. He finally has full access to your sweeping wet core and without a second left to spare, his mouth makes contact with your folds. He licks a stripe from your core to your clit. Your head tilts back and a low moan escapes your body like a prayer, as if Nico is the god you praise upon. 

Your right hand leaves its place against the table and immediately finds a refugee in Nico’s damp hair. Your fingers run through his rich deep brown locks, encouraging Nico to take a step further. Your hips buck closer to Nico’s mouth when he inserts his ring and middle finger into your mound. The pornographic moans that form from the soul of your chest are a symphony to Nico’s ears. Your hips start to grind into Nico’s mouth, he knows you're close. 

“Look at me, baby.” He pulls away from your clit, his fingers never leaving your mound. You obey, like a good girl. Nico’s tongue finds itself back onto your clit, in response a soft whimper leaves your mouth. The more Nico indulges into your mound, the more you can feel yourself falling apart. Your gummy walls start to contract and Nico knows you need one final push to get yourself on the leaderboard. With one final flick against your clit and stroke into your core, you come undone. Your body convulses, eyes flutter closed, and all you see is black. 

After a couple of seconds, you’re brought back to earth. Nico stands, towering over you, he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices. Once his ring and middle finger leave his mouth, he uses that hand to bring up a chair. It screeches against the tile of the floor. Before Nico sits on the chair, he removes his trousers. Carefully placing them on top of the dining room table. Once the chair is positioned right in front of you, he sits. His legs spread open, his hard length pressed against the soft fabric of his black boxer briefs. You still have yet to move from your spot on the edge of the table, legs still feeling like jelly after an earth-shattering orgasm. Nico opens his mouth to command one thing. 

“Come on, Schatz,” he pats his thigh, “You still have two more to go.” 

[myimaginaryradio]

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Green Day

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 Where to find good XF fanfics

👽 On Tumblr

@lilydalexf has an encyclopedic knowledge of fics and continues to be an invaluable resource. You'll find a boatload of themed fic lists, individual rec posts and helpful answers to anon asks.

@txf-fic-chicks-blog seven years of almost daily recs, with well-written blurbs and a lot of fun, run by @kateyes224 and @piecesofscully. Look out for their themed days: "Casefile Monday", "Tumblr Tuesday", "Editor's Pick Wednesday", "Post-Ep/Missing Scene Thursday", "Novel Length Friday", "Smut Sunday", and the very cool "Because You Watched"

@msrlibrary a well-tagged library of MSR fics; each entry includes a short excerpt and a nicely chosen image from the show.

@201daysofxfiles a rewatch blog by fandom veteran @wendelah. Each episode in season 1-7 is paired with its own fic rec post.

@enigmaticxbee an aesthetically pleasing and neatly organized rewatch blog that is packed with great content, including excellent fic rec lists categorized by season, story type, trope, and more. Each episode guide sometimes features related fic recs.

@thatfragilecapricorn30 posts one fic rec every Friday, accompanied by a nice writeup.

@randomfoggytiger curates many fic rec lists sorted by often fun and creative categories.

@cecilysass has a google doc titled "fics I love", which is a fantastic fic list categorized by story type, complete with thoughtful blurbs. She's also shared two episode-related fic rec lists on Tumblr: here and here.

@pookie-mulder writes a monthly fic journal with good recs.

**self-promo plug** I post fic recs on my Tumblr blog @fine-nephrit under #nephrit's fic rec. Plus, I reblog others' fic recs that I come across!

👽 Rec Communities

XF Book Club: the best thing ever, an absolute gem that deserves to be preserved for posterity. During its run, 270 fics were recced and discussed in depth here. The community's intelligent and insightful comments on this blog are sometimes even more enjoyable to read than the fics themselves.

The Fic Filter (xf tag): well-curated selections with short blurbs.

Multifandom Het Recs (xf tag): a major rec site's xf section that offers nice "why this must be read" writeups. @het-reccers

Crack Van (xf tag): another major rec site with a big xf section, featuring endless recs and blurbs

Fancake (xf tag): another major rec community's xf section boasting an extensive thematic tagging system

👽 Personal Blogs

Emily Shore aka Naraht: meta essays, fanvid recs, fic recs—great stuff aplenty

Bad for the Fish aka Scarlet Baldy: fantastic fic list paired with highly enjoyable reviews and analyses of the fics she's read. @badforthefish

Ramblings of a Mind Untamed: reviews of a dozen or so classic fics

xxSKSxx XF Fanfic Recs: still active in 2024! @xxsksxxx

X-Libris: more of a fic library, this is the best place to download nicely-formatted ebooks of pre-AO3 oldies. What I love most is the incredibly detailed and extensive tagging system.

👽 Individual Rec Lists with good writeup

Character Manifesto - Dana Scully: a character analysis and 10 Scully-centric fic recs, categorized by "best of .." selections. Amazing format and choices!

Character Manifesto - Fox Mulder: same format as above for Spooky

bachlava's awesome fic rec essays, covering classic fics and slash fics

ShipRecced blog's classic MSR fics and newer MSR fics recs

luminary's 16-fic rec post

RivkaT recs fics and writers @rivkat

Anna Otto's favorite stories

Syntax6's rec list on her site, great rec list on Tumblr and FTF rec list @syntax6

👽 90s Old School Rec Sites

The Basement Office - Musea: a treasure trove of extensive fic lists with lovely written blurbs, recced by a group of talented writers from back in the day

The Other Side - Fanfic Recs from Beyond the Grave: a large collection of 'scary' or 'spooky' story recs with nice blurbs. Beautiful web design.

the Rookery - Favorite Authors: nice commentary on a list of classic fic writers

X-Files Fanfiction 101: an intro guide to fic categories and what to read for each

The Primal Screamers: a fun site run by a mailing list that hosts fic recs with blurbs, and a 'Coffee Talk' section full of delightful discussions of canon

Idealists Haven - Elemental Fanfic Archive: an archive with rec blurbs

Chronicle X: a large, well-organized archive with blurbs, plus a 'Can We Talk' discussion section of novel-length fics, plus a total of 46 author interviews. Simply incredible!

👽 Special Mention

The X-Files Lost and Found: a fic finder message board that is miraculously still very active today—How wonderful! Its FAQ page hosts a huge collection of well-categorized themed fic lists (not recs), including "Classics (or, Your Fanfic Education is Not Complete Until You've Read ...)".

Where do you find your next read? What did I miss? Reblog and share your favorites!

[periwinkla]

Final NRMT poster with all panels! Print here <3 Did anyone notice... anything about the bottom right panel? It's not too obvious but I wanted it to at least be noticeable within the poster itself that something is... 'off' if you compared it with the other panels. And there's a reason. Honestly it's just about a silly headcanon of mine, and it is also a silly way for me to include it but... I'm silly myself. Under the cut, the hanakotoba notes for the flower panel... and other stuff. The other stuff isn't important really but it was funny for me.

Already talked about this in the flower panel post - but these are the main things I took into consideration when choosing the flowers:

3 sunflowers specifically mean 'I love you' - so I also added 3 chrysanthemums to complement them. By the by, among other things, sunflowers mean 'passion', 'love', 'adoration', 'I only have eyes for you' - while white chrysanthemums mean 'truth'. Red chrysanthemums signify 'love' but I opted against them in favor of the following flowers.

The small blue flowers are forget-me-nots, which, other than the obvious, mean 'true love' in hanakotoba. 

The pink flowers are Japanese primroses ('sakurasou' - they get their name because of their resemblance to cherry blossoms), which mean 'first love', 'longing', 'purity', 'youthful love', 'the beginning of youth and sadness'...

Also, here the nmweek24 tag on the blog to see the posts for the individual panels with additional info/behind the scenes: https://periwinkla.tumblr.com/tagged/nmweek24 note: there are a few minor adjustments I made for the final poster compared to the individual panels (you probably won't even be able to see them honestly) ---Sentimental story time--- The reason I wanted to do something special for nrmt week was because tomorrow (the 8th) will mark the day I first started playing AA1. And I'm so happy I got into it! Funny story: my first exposure to AA was the anime (almost 10 years ago!) I got to the end of the first 12ish episodes, obviously was very confused because it's not meant to be consumed by someone who didn't play the games, and promptly abandoned ship and forgot all about it. Completely. I even forgot I had watched it! until I got to Turnabout Goodbyes because I had a vague recollection of having seen the boat photo. But other than that, complete oblivion (my memory is quite terrible in general). Basically, last year I had finished Detective Pikachu 1 and wanted something similar because I usually play classic jrpgs and needed a change of pace... AA1 was my choice. As I mentioned, I remembered absolutely nothing from the anime (I had no idea Mia died, so, imagine the shock). I went completely blind till I finished with AJ and AAI1-2. Honestly, it's a beautiful experience when you play games without knowing anything about them. It feels like the good old days. I absolutely don't believe that study that says spoilers don't spoil the experience. Also I find it nice that I got into nrmt without outside prompt, because I find it funny that my brain needed to play through 6 games in order to see it. I seem to have prosciutto on my eyes (Italian idiom). In my defense I usually don't look for romance in stories and ship stuff unless it's very obvious. Nrmt comes too close to it to ignore. Ok, end of nostalgic sentimentality. ...And here's the 'other stuff': This print was the thing I said I had hidden 'in plain sight'. It has been on the print shop since... Thursday. 'It was there all along'-well more like half-along really <3

[ericscroptop]

Teacher’s Pet

✧ pairing: student teacher! eric x fem student! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, male receiving, filthy oral sex, hand job, so much spit, dirty talk, praising, pet names, cursing, kissing, filthy, obsessive reader, power imbalance? public sex? like one comment of degradation (reader is called a slut once), perverted, nasty, messy reader and eric

✦ word count: 5.7k words

✧ synopsis: you’re in your own world, not really a social butterfly and just going about your business in focusing on your education. that is, until your professor’s student teacher catches on to how you’re not so innocent and proper after all.

✦ note: if this type of pairing bothers you, then do not engage! always remember that all my work is purely fiction.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚

Thursday. The day of the week you looked forward to the most.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, you had a Geology lecture to attend.

The course was held during the evening, meaning class would end while it was dark out now because of the recent time change. You kinda hated that.

This course also had no real relation to your major. It wasn’t of any interest to you. You needed a generic science credit, so you had to take it as one of your requirements to graduate.

While picking classes and scheduling for the semester, you happened to have no other choice than to pick this Geology class.

In all honesty though, the content and course in itself wasn’t too bad. Sometimes, lessons of the different types of rocks or volcanoes did activate your brain. Only sometimes.

And, the reason you looked forward to coming to class every Thursday was because your professor was accompanied by a special guest: Eric Sohn.

Your professor had a teaching assistant to work alongside him. You’ll never forget the first day you were introduced to him. You’ve genuinely never seen anyone more handsome than him in your entire life.

Eric Sohn served as one hunk of a man. It’s so shallow and shameful of you to reduce him to sole eye candy, but how could you help it?

There was a juxtaposition between him and other teachers you’ve had in the past.

First things first, he’s a graduate student. He has to be only a few years older than you. Right off the bat, he was obviously more intriguing than the other old geezers (no offense) and middle-aged professors that worked here.

His looks also will immediately hit you like a truck with just one tiny peek at him. The features he was blessed with were hypnotic. His face was crafted beautifully, having honey skin that highlighted those sharp features of his.

On most occasions, thick black frames perched over his prominent nose. He also never slacked off with his outfits, coming to class every week in business casual attire that seemed more elevated with that pretty face of his and unique details.

What made him stand out apart from his handsome and youthful face were the unique coverings that painted and pierced through his skin and body.

The curved barbell on his left eyebrow, silver hoops dangling from his earlobes, and classic black ink that covers one of his forearms makes him look far from ordinary.

It fits him perfectly, bringing the Gen Z out of him that makes him easily stand out in the crowd.

You’re lucky that college exposes you to many cool-looking people. Even so, you never thought one of those people you find ever so alluring, would be one of your teachers.

Your observant-ass only further ate up anything you could pick up on or read based off his mannerisms and speech. He’d sometimes take over the lectures, leading the class instead of your main professor. You dissected the way his hands would relax into his pockets, him push his glasses up now and again, and him suck in a small breath in between talking.

Today was no different than any other time he’s present in class. You attended this course twice a week, but Eric only made an appearance on Thursdays. So you made sure to cherish that hour and thirty minutes in the same room as him extra well.

When you walked into your class and took your spot in your unassigned-assigned seat in the second to first row, you quickly noticed your main professor wasn’t present. So unlike him.

As soon as everyone settled and class begun, Eric announced that your other professor had private matters to take care of that prevented him from coming to campus today, so he’d be in full-force charge of lesson for the day.

Every other time, Eric sat on the sidelines and if he did take over class, it would be under the guidance of your other professor— or for mere assistance.

All the attention would be drawn to him, and for some reason, that made you all giddy inside.

And not to kiss his ass just because of your colossal crush on him, but he gave smooth-tongued lectures. He was an expert on the lessons he gave, very informative and not just reading straight off a powerpoint or textbook.

Maybe his looks played a major role in why you pay attention during lectures, but he really had a way of speaking.

His delivery of the material was satisfying. He’s just as well qualified to teach at the level your older professor does. Furthermore, he’s quite the entertainer, mindlessly throwing witty commentary and fun analogies with his lectures.

He knew how to keep students engaged. Without trouble he brought smiles and laughter to your faces, even getting students to willingly participate.

You on the other hand, stayed on the down low. Funny, ‘cause there isn’t much to hide when your class was on the smaller side— not auditorium-level, the amount of girls in the room could be counted with one hand as this is a male-dominated class, and you chose to sit close to the front.

Still, you remained to stay as a background character, allowing room for the regular extroverts to ask and answer questions and engage in conversations. You weren’t really the type to speak up, and kept to yourself.

Nonetheless, you still paid attention like the rest.

You stayed busy anyways with how your mind ran laps with the various daydreams you envisioned. Eric Sohn served as the main love interest of your created scenarios, constantly sweeping you off your feet and doing things to you that were anything but holy.

Poor you, always in your head, day-dreaming like it’s a disease. Eating away at your brain with fantasies about someone you definitely cannot have, and definitely does not see you in the way you view him. He must already have a lover at home, or he knows he’s hot shit and has everyone wrapped around his finger.

Your thoughts were like that of a young teenager, filled with thirsty fantasies of someone you shouldn’t even dare to see in that way. It’s so hard though; He’s too easy on the eyes.

However, you wouldn’t act on those fantasies, certainly. That’d be ridiculous. But a girl could dream.

During lecture, you diligently took notes while retaining every word and detail that leaves his mouth.

The air in the classroom today was rare. He was in control and in focus, sparking your senses even more than usual.

As much as you tried to tame your dreamy, indecorous thoughts, they couldn’t be kept quiet. You watched the man you crushed on stride while lecturing, hands clasped together and using them to gesture while speaking, making the bracelets adorning his wrists jingle slightly.

His eyes would roam around in front of him as he spoke, not focusing on anything in particular unless he was looking at the projector screen, or person who answered or asked a question.

If his eyes happened to land on you even for a split second, holding contact until he fleeted them away, a hot sensation shot up your body, palms quickly sweaty.

That further provoked you, mindlessly chewing on the end of your pen in attempt to stabilize your heart rate and mind.

You had to be an embarrassment to society, geeking out over your hot student teacher as if you were an immature teenager. Here you were, squealing internally inbetween note-taking, striving to keep your hormones under control.

He’s just too damn attractive for your own good. How can you not yearn for him and ogle, even letting your eyes zero in and lower down towards his cro—

“See you guys next week! Have a good and safe weekend. Don’t forget to stay warm, it’s getting chillier.” Eric’s voice snaps you out of your perverted trance.

Quickly, the sounds of students rising from their seats and items being packed echoed the room. Some were eager to flee out, not hesitating in heading towards the door.

A quiet sigh lets out your mouth. Whether it be from exhaustion, relief, or getting the ick from your feelings— who knows?

You’re just ready to get back to your place, have some dinner, and fall deep into sleep. When you start to get a couple steps out from your row though, a voice catches your attention.

“Miss, Y/L/N?”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Can you stay for a bit? There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“Sure!” you voiced, calmly walking towards the front of the room where he stood. On the inside, you were anything but that.

You cannot recall a time that you were asked to stay after for something you’re unaware of. You’ve barely had any real interactions with your professor, let alone the student teacher. So what could this possibly be about?

Everyone else exited aside from yourself and three students who were talking to Eric. You’d figure people would wanna bolt out of class as soon as possible, but there was always those students that had burning questions post-lecture. Or in this case, simply wanted to linger longer to chat it up with the coolest guy ever.

You timidly stood on the sidelines, patiently waiting for them to wrap up their conversation.

With each second that passed, it made you even more anxious. Not only did you have to chat with your professor about God knows what, but it’s with the guy that unknowingly lives in your mind rent free.

In the time it takes to wrap it up with your classmates, you’re starting to prepare yourself for the worst-case scenario. Recently, you had written and submitted a two-page report, paired with a powerpoint on a particular landmark. Honestly, the requirements for it weren’t too strict, and it was certainly nothing compared to the ten-page paper you had to write for a different course.

But, you did write it last minute, and you had a habit of taking things from the internet and just rearranging the sentence structure.

There’s a chance that he wants to chat with you to reprimand you for your work. Oh, God. If you find yourself in a case of plagiarism, you don’t know what you’ll do with yourself. You’re getting queasy just picturing it. He needs to hurry up and get this over with since you’re shitting bricks while—

“Hey, so, I wanted to talk about your recent report.”

Fuck. Here we go.

“Your report was phenomenal. I read yours already— I have yet to put in the grades, but yours was probably the best in the class.”

Huh?

He’s commending you? In-person over an amateur, half-assed assignment that was nothing in comparison to actual, well-written research reports.

I mean, it is worth a decent percentage of your grade, but still…

“Oh— wow, uh, thanks. I didn’t think it was that impressive.” there’s a mix of surprise, confusion, and relief within your tone. You give him a shy smile, loosely playing with your fingers. Your eyes don’t dart away from his, though. It’d be disrespectful to do so, and as much as the shared gaze made your body roar in flames, you needed to remain nonchalant.

“Please, you’d be surprised how many college students can’t write for the life of them.” he scoffs, smiling at the thought. It prompts you to laugh softly. You swear you see sparkles in his eyes, and that gorgeous smile of his has your heart skipping beats.

“It’s refreshing to read some good stuff. Especially from a student like yourself.”

Your eyes widen just a tad at that, not going unnoticed by Eric.

“You’re not as outspoken or talkative as the others— at least, not in class. Which, I totally get. But, it’d be nice to hear more from you.”

You still give him a polite smile, sorta sheepish at his words. It is true that you remain on the quieter side. There was a severe lack of participation from you. Curse your timidness.

“It’s always the quiet ones that always work the hardest.”

That has you blushing hard. Your unattainable crush acknowledging you and going as far as to personally applaud you for efforts you thought went unnoticed.

To be experiencing this is like a dream; You don’t want to wake up.

Even if you outwardly denied it or just shyly smiled and brushed it off on the exterior, on the inside, it boosted your confidence and made you feel like you were worth something via the eyes of someone else.

Any compliment given to you had you eating it up, craving more even after you digested it. Constantly seeking validation in any form.

“I’ve heard that it’s also the quiet ones with a colorful imagination… and are the freakiest.”

Now that gets the smile on your face to slowly falter, looking at him all paralyzed, while he just casually dips his hands in his pockets, all relaxed as if he didn’t just insinuate something outlandish.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” he nods, you still confused.

“I’m sorry, what?” you nervously laughed. If you weren’t mistaken, you’d believe he was being suggestive. Provocative, perhaps? But this couldn’t be.

He has to laugh back, amusement etched in his features at your expression. Unfortunately you seem oblivious, but luckily for you, he’s not.

“Don’t act so coy, now.” he takes a small step forward, but it’s still enough to close distance between you two. Your heart’s palpitating.

“Or are you really clueless?” he cocks his head, allowing his eyes to freely rake over your form.

The height difference isn’t striking, but his glaring makes you feel rather small. You’ve indulged in the fantasy you’ve created of him having you as he wished and vice versa in your head. But the possibility of it unveiling behold you is… hard to swallow.

“You’re not so subtle with that little act you’ve got going on. I see the way you look at me.”

Fuck.

Now is when you panic. Your face is turning red hot, and there’s this dizzy feeling that’s bestowing upon you in hearing that he’s aware of your gawking. The desire to run away and bury yourself into a hole is vastly strong right now. But there’s no escaping from this.

“Mr. Sohn, I’m really sorry… I— I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable… This is really inappropriate of me.” by this point, your eyes were growing heavy, flickering with tears threatening to break out. This was so shameful, and there’s really nothing you can do to save yourself from your disgusting behavior.

However, it surprises you when he doesn’t start spitting out rightfully-deserved berates.

Instead, his hands fly up to hold your shoulders.

“Hey, hey…. Who said it made me uncomfortable.” he utters softly while holding you, making you bite your lip to keep yourself stable. His touch and what he says has you looking at him all misty-eyed, perplexed to say the least.

He wets his lips with his tongue and snickers, looking off to the side before locking his vision back to you.

“The way you look at me and my bulge is really fucking hot.”

It feels like your ears are playing tricks on you. This has to be some sort of test, or maybe you’re too caught up in your head that this feels real.

He gestures his hand out for you to grab it, and while hesitant at first, you do. He directs your hand over his crotch, pressing it over the area.

You gasp silently in shock that you’re actually feeling his clothed dick. Eric lowly breathes, eyes still on you with a visible appetite. Your gaze wobbles from his eyes to where your hand rested underneath his.

His manhood’s seemingly begging to be let free from his slacks, cock kissing your hand through the layers with a gnawing throb.

“Is this what you want?”

This sounded like a straight-up Wattpad fantasy. Shit like this actually happened in real life? Eric Sohn was making a move on you, being so risqué. And what makes it worse is that you’re falling for it, as this is all you’ve ever hoped for.

“You really want me like this?” that’s really the best response you could come up with. There’s a possibility he’s playing tricks on you. He could be teasing you and then turn this into some sick joke.

But he continues to leer over the length of your body, particularly lingering over your chest. Mentally you hi-fived yourself for deciding on a low-cut top today. Though, having this sudden ravenous attention on you made you want to disintegrate. How can you handle this heat?

His eyes soften for a moment, grinning while moving a hand to grab hold of your chin gently. Your breathing practically stills at the contact with starry eyes.

“‘Course, baby. You’re gorgeous.” he breathes out, making you purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot. Your cheeks on the other hand, are definitely blushing like a bitch.

His thumb slides faintly over your cheek until it’s dangerously close to your lips, hanging just on the corner of your mouth.

“Will you show me how good of a girl you are and blow me?” his breath fans out in front of you, pussy pulsing from his plead.

Your lips part in surprise. His utterance makes you go blank, and you only stare at him with a gaze that asks if this is crossing the line.

But with the way you haven’t protested against his behavior thus far, and having knowledge of your feelings towards him, that’s enough to tell him that you’re intrigued and willing to get dirty.

He should make sure to have your verbal consent, though.

The tip of his thumb fully lands on your bottom lip, beginning to strum slowly at the appendage. His eyes are overcast with carnal desire, while yours are too entranced on him, battling with yourself to not close them, for you fear you’ll miss out on what’s in front of you.

“Words, hon.” he says sweetly. This overwhelming feeling to give yourself to him and let him have it crashes over you. The idea of this gorgeous man blessing your mouth and throat with his cock sounds heavenly.

Now that you’re living your wildest dream, put into this position, looking into his eyes up close, you’re blind to any morality. Having his attention like this makes you want to submit to anything he has to say.

You’re not thinking about how wrong this is, or how it may make you seem whorish to willingly give yourself up to him like a naive girl.

You just need to have a taste of him.

“Wanna suck you off. More than anything.” deep inside your soul and in the back of your mind, indignity resides there. But, you have this chance to be sexually frisky with this man. There was no way in hell you could pass this up.

He gives you a satisfied smirk at your answer, dropping his hand from your face and giving you a nod.

“On your knees.” he instructs.

Despite your confident words, your heart’s pounding. You find his attractiveness intimidating, so as weak and desperate as you are for him, you hope he be the same for you.

You kneel down in front of him, ignoring the cold, dusty floor that you fall upon. Your hands rest over your thighs, orbs overlayed with vulnerability and form ready to offer yourself.

Eric wastes no time, the unbuckling and loosening of his belt ringing in your ears. You swear you start to feel arousal pool in your panties just from that.

His pants drop to his ankles shortly after, eye-level with his dick that pushes up against his briefs, looking tight and bulky.

You shift slightly and blink anxiously. Although your core is whirling in excitement, you turn to the door of the classroom, praying nobody walks in or will be aware of what’s about to happen in this very room.

Eric understands, but he needs your mouth now before any more anxieties get to you. And he’s already falling for the temptation of you sat like a good girl for him, all pretty-faced with your breasts perked out, proving his neediness for you even more.

“This is all between me and you, baby girl. Don’t act so innocent now. Put those thoughts into action.” he says softly while palming himself, groaning softly while he gives himself a few caresses.

That beautiful sound of his gets you to whimper weakly, making him raise a brow and chuckle at the ounce of sound.

“Want me to make your dreams come true, hon?” Hm?”

You wet your lips and plead with your eyes before reminding yourself to use that mouth of yours as well. “Let me help you.” you murmured.

That cues him to free his cock, briefs joining his pants at the bottom while his entire length springs up, meeting it in all its glory.

Eric grabs it, tauntingly waving it in front of you, your pupils following and processing his hefty size, especially fixating on his pink tip.

“It’s all yours. Have at it.” with that, he lets go of his shaft and you reach to let it grace your dominant hand, starting off with a light hold.

The feeling of your hand over his length has his breath hitching, more so when your finger tips start outlining a vein and caressing his cock skin, getting comfortable with him.

His bottom is leaning against the teacher’s desk, hands holding onto the edge of it as you finally touch him with your lips. You drag and pucker your lips to greet his cock calmly at first, giving his tip nice kisses and tasting it by tonguing at his slit.

That causes him to hiss and provide you with a lazy smile.

“Cute, hmm… Sweet girl.” he coos, mesmerized when you give his blushed tip one last smooch before letting your tongue hang out to smooth it over the underside of his length, dragging it all the way to the top and flashing him with a seductive gaze.

You left behind your saliva and savored the taste of his skin, treating his shaft like the yummiest popsicle you’ve been dying to try.

Eric’s lips part, hissing out a curse word at that dangerous, sultry look of yours as you lick up on him. That dirty side of you that you kept veiled is coming out for him to see.

The chance to comment on your teasing is ripped away from him when you suddenly envelop your lips around his head, one hand on his base gripping him with just enough effort while your mouth got to sucking some of his cock to start off.

It makes him immediately throw his head back, throat rumbling from the sensation, cock fluttering.

Your movements are not rushed at all to begin with, stroking his cock with your mouth at a calm rhythm and stopping for a second when you reached his tip again. Repeating this process a couple times.

You stayed with this pace until you felt the need to take a minor break, removing yourself entirely from his length to take a breather.

You licked your lips and still gave him stimulation with your hand while you were off, lubricating him with the saliva you’ve left behind and ensuring to spread the precum that’s shining from his tip.

“I knew you’d treat me good…. Little vixen.” he compliments you, bringing a hand to one side of your head, holding some hair that threatened to cover that gorgeous face of yours.

You stretched your body up, squeezing your thighs together and breasts to express how turned-on this got you.

Bubbles of spit emerged from your lips as you looked up at him with pouty-eyes, honeyed look such a contrast from the dirty work your mouth’s doing.

With a hand still resting on the side of your face, he guides your mouth back to his shaft.

Readily, you open up and take him into your moist entrance, grabbing hold of his thighs for security while you allow him to take control of your movements.

Eric’s incapable of holding out against the urge to push his hips towards the source that’s granting him divine pleasure. So, he thrusts into your mouth and you allow it, accommodating to being driven deeper by relaxing your jaw and sticking out your tongue.

He bobs you over his cock repeatedly, every other couple shoves closer to his end than the last.

Your lips sucked and squeeze his girthy length, saliva building up as you sucked him off, creating wet sounds. The farther he pushed you, it felt like you were swallowing him. His fat cock buried inside your mouth, making you whimper at the fullness that consumed you.

“Shhhhh… Be good for me, sweetie. You can take it, yeah?” he coaxes, pushing you further and stopping once your mouth was fully stuffed and nose touched his pubic bone.

Choking on his entire cock dazed you, trying your best to remain calm and let him hold you for a bit in this position before you needed fresh air.

The groans of his were gratifying, altering your brain chemistry from his sounds and having him shove your throat full of his fatty meat. You wanted to prove to him that you deserved this. That you’re a girl he’ll never forget.

He pulls you off after some seconds pass, hand falling to his side and you immediately gasped for air, brows knitted together as you coughed. You were slobbering, spit raining down your chin.

You hate wasting time though so once you collect yourself, you dive down towards his ballsack, navigating your tongue along his sack and lower shaft, licking up on him with a teasing smile and breathy laugh.

You then starts to kiss his balls affectionately, sucking them with eager in between. Nose-deep into his sack, his wet shaft taps your head, your insides swirling from indulging in his package.

“Cock drunk, aren’t ya, eh? he sneers, amused by your head game and breathing heavily from such.

You simply continue smiling, and stick your tongue out. Eric grabs hold of his cock, slapping his tip over it lightly three or four times, you humming at this heavy feeling.

Your core shivers from his dark, dilated eyes blaring down into you. In front of you, Eric’s enjoying the view and service you provide to him. Being on your knees, face growing messier by the second, seeing the sneak peek of your tits in that top, and that cheeky smile of yours is driving him mad.

He knows for a fact that you’re gonna make him bust soon.

Ardently, your mouth finds itself closing over his length again. A hand of yours holds his wet base while you go to town on him, blowing only halfway and flicking your tongue back and forth.

Eric’s so greedy, and decides to challenge you once more by grabbing a fistful of some of your hair to have a hold on you. He doesn’t aggressively pull on you, though. He just wants to keep you in just the right spot while he starts boning into your mouth again.

He bites down on his bottom lip before letting go to part his lips in bliss, moaning from your increased sounds of slurping and squelching. It’s insanely hot and wet, fucking up his senses in the best way possible.

“You may act like a sweetheart, but you suck cock like a fucking slut.” he grunts out, getting your pussy to clench from him referring to you as such. You’d suck his dick like a slut for him any time, any where.

His free hand maneuvers to your chin, holding you even more fastened. He doesn’t let up dragging you over his length, having hold on you to keep you just where he wants you.

Tears brim your eyes, vision blurry as you swallow and are stuffed full of girthy cock. He face fucks you into oblivion, incessantly bullying your throat. There’s a chance he’d bruise your soft palate, but getting him off meant more than temporary pain.

The amount of spit that soaked his manhood had you gurgling, splash-like sounds on repeat like a song. Those smutty noises push his drive even more, chasing after the high that’s calling to him. Almost there.

You moaned and hummed around him. Partly because you were also aroused at the sounds being produced, but also because your jaw was sorta starting to burn. There was no intent on stopping, though.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby girl.” his throat rumbles, largely from the vibrations of your moans stimulating his shaft further.

Air was getting knocked our of your lungs, and he further pushed your limits by bringing your face against his pubic bone again. Your lips stretched out as far as you could get them to, nose squished against his skin, with your bottom lip and chin touching his sack.

His cock fully down and inside the canal of your mouth/throat has him spacing out, consumed in the feeling of you taking care of his beloved manhood incredibly well.

Tears burn your eyes and one or two even manage to slip down to your cheek. His girthy cock is jammed-packed in your mouth, feeling clogged up and overloaded. It has you pressing your nails sharply into the skin of his thighs. Eric releases guttural groans, motivating you to stay strong.

After a moment, he kindly pulls you off. You’re tugged off with a large heave paired with choked mewls. Bubbles and foam of your drool slip down his length, tears staining your cheeks from the intensity.

Your face is definitely fucked up thanks to his cock, but Eric looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes, mesmerized by the ironically holy sight that looks so attractive from his perspective.

“Pretty girl.”

You whimpered at his remark, inching over to his balls to hide yourself and finish your job. You’re growing tired, but you sensually kiss and suckle some more at his hefty sack, ensuring to provide them with equal attention.

You could swear this gets him to let free a whimper, and so you persist with playing with them. You burrow and brush your nose and mouth against his balls, dreamy smile radiating your features.

Eric in concert grabs a hold of his cock, stroking and gripping himself in the right spots. He pumps his slippery shaft, head spinning from the touches, cock growing more stiff and breathing as heavy as ever.

“Shit, almost there.” he rasps, all tensed.

“Lemme cum down your throat.” he requests, knowing that it will be rapturous.

Plus, it would be easier to empty out down your throat instead of on your face, or anywhere else.

Eager to drain him dry, you swiftly swing up and over his shaft one last time.

Hard, but lazily, he jerks and twitches in your mouth, dominant hand holding onto your hair strands. He grunts and growls while exploding spurts of his seed inside your mouth.

Your eyes are shut, soaking in the sensation of him impregnating your mouth.

His hard cock pulsates, cum blazing as it releases. When he finally stops twitching, you swipe your tongue over his tip to make sure every last drop ends up in the right place.

He pulls out, his labored breathing serving as background noise while you swirl the thick consistency of his nut around, savoring him before letting it all slide down your throat.

You covered your mouth politely while swallowing, (even though there’s no point in being well mannered after giving him an untamed blow job) ensuring none of it spills out and all travels down you esophagus.

His body and psyche feels weak after orgasming, and his spine shivers while he catches his breath, but he still attempts to look at you: blinking in a daze, sniffling and licking at your lips.

Paired with messy, out-of-place hair, there’s a big ring around your mouth and nose area that no longer matches the rest of your face. He throat-fucked most of your makeup off, making him chuckle at your appearance and appreciating your devoted labor.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Wish you could see yourself right now.” he says in awe.

“Lemme see, open wide for me.” he then refers to showing him that you drank him up all the way.

Obeying, you open and stick out your tongue, giving him that proud look of a girl who swallowed every last bit of cum given to her.

“That’s a good girl. A really good girl.” he smirks, letting a hand down to the top of your head, patting your head delicately.

That has your cheeks swelling in fulfillment, cunt just as happy to hear that praise from the way it tingles.

His hand slithers lower towards your mouth, swiping affectionately at your corner. Although you already showed how strongly you felt about him with your head game, you impulsively grabbed that same hand. You direct it to your lips, kissing the skin of his knuckles, eyes remaining on him as you dropped those soft pecks.

Through his glasses, you can see lust and fascination present in his eyes. More strings start pulling him towards you, past the literal strings of saliva that attached you to his cock earlier.

To your surprise, he falls to the ground, now leveled with you.

“You okay, hon?” he coos suddenly, realizing he hasn’t respectfully checked in on if you were alright from what just went down.

Your eyes soften when his do, and you twinkle at him. “Yeah.” you murmured.

He observes your blotchy, smudged, and streaked face again, biting his lower lip with a broad smile.

“Such a messy baby.” That was so hot. So good for me.”

In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. While a bit shocked, you fall smoothly into the kiss gladly. He kissed you tenderly, passion burning through the movement of one another’s appendages. You were kissing Eric Sohn. Your student teacher.

“Whatcha say we go back to my place and get you cleaned up and taken care of, hm? Sound good?”

This is all unethical, but how could you pass this up? Nothing mattered except for the man you just gave the sloppiest top to. This is pathetic of you, but you needed more of him. And you reckon he wants to get to know more of you, too.

“Okay.” you grinned.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ˚