#and I don't think the amounts have gone up much since

[kavehscanvas]

Chat I'm gonna ramble

I have multiple hyperfixations that every once in a while I think "oh I'm getting normal about this now I think" and suddenly I'm BLASTED with the knowledge that I'm, in fact, not normal about it AT ALL

So this is a list of things I'm normal about until I'm not normal about, for fun

I spend like from a week to a month being EXACTLY the image above, to the point where even >I< get tired of hearing me talk about something

Danganronpa, unfortunately. Resurfaces at least once a year, and so far it's happened 3 times around my birthday. I don't think I can break the curse and I've stopped trying

Steven Universe, but specifically ALL the Ruby and Sapphire appearances. I can binge ONLY the episodes where they appear and sometimes the ones leading up to it for the full impact. That's why my Kavetham Rupphire crossover exists.

Genshin Impact hasn't gone anywhere since I got into it, I never had the chance to think I was normal about it. But every once in a while I might think I'm normal about Enkanomiya, The Chasm, Perilous Trail or Guizhong and I get SLAPPED by my own insanities

HSR but specifically the Xianzhou Luofu continuances from 2.4 and 2.5. I am ABNORMAL about the Yaoqing Trio, I am ABNORMAL about Lingsha, I am ABNORMAL about the transition from Dan Feng to Dan Heng in the shackling prison

Ordem Paranormal as a whole. Since Natal Macabro released I haven't been able to let go of it. I can't do anything without thinking "what if I inserted the NM cast into this". I binged the ending of Desconjuração this week. I watched two whole episodes in one day, and MIND YOU. THE EPISODES ARE 4 HOURS LONG.

Like two months ago I got beamed with Akame Ga Kill thoughts. Chat. It was so much worse than all the other times. I lost track of how many times I watched this anime since 2017. This time I only intended to watch a couple of the episodes, yk "the fun ones" (where my faves die) and ended up watching THE ENTIRE ANIME. In two days. I did not come out of it with my sanity intact. And this time I absorbed even more plot points that I had missed the other days and I was even more analytical of the characters and chat. Chat I don't think I can recover from this one. The Run thoughts come back to me every time I open my gallery. Ohhhhhh vaguely androgynous blonde man with good intentions but questionable actions who is the normalest person in his group and has angel imagery despite having a LOW ASS V NECK that shows a considerable amount of his chest save meeeee. Save me small pink girl with a gun double her size and trauma that turns into motivation. Save me lady who killed a guy with her bare fists with no power back up while she was dying from several gun wounds and also bit into a guy's blade with her teeth and it was literally so attractive I physically had to stop and gush over it because I'm attracted to beautiful and strong women.

This was not my intention but I think that last point is a very good example. I am, in fact, not normal about it. I literally thought a few hours ago "huh maybe I should delete some of these AGK skins, I don't use them a lot" past me I have news and I think you won't like them ...

[medicinemane]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[norikuna]

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT — choso kamo

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (d) and let the show begin !

prologue. → it's been seven days since you wobbled into your apartment and almost threw up on your best friend. seven days since you confessed your love to him. seven days of radio silence as you've done your best to shut him out, hoping that the earth swallows you whole. there's no way he's going to want anything to do with you now!

but it's been years since choso had started silently loving you.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader

warnings. vírgin!choso, spítting, kíssing, makíng out, thígh kínk (mild), yuuji being a menace 😭

word count. 8k! song inspiration. last friday night — katy perry

a/n. i can't believe i don't write for choso more. i really put a lot of love into this fic but i wish i had expanded on it a bit more 😭 one thing abt me is that i love adding side characters to cóck block

mp3. think we kissed, but i forgot!

"did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? breakups happen every day — you don't have to lose it."

you jab at the skip button like it's personally offended you, cutting off the mournful strains of the evermore bonus track mid-verse. normally, you'd let the singer's poetic misery hold your fragile heart in a pretty gentle chokehold, for she understood your heartbreak like a nobel laureate in emotional devastation. but not today.

not on this particularly dreary friday, right before christmas, where even ms. swift's dulcet agony felt obnoxiously on the nose.

pinned under the suffocating weight of your quilt, you let out a dramatic sigh that could rival a victorian heroine wasting away from heartache and humiliation.

with the theatrics of someone clawing their way out of a shipwreck, you work one arm free, waving it weakly into the air like your tragic signal of defeat.

the cocoon of your quilts and covers isn't warm nor comforting. it's a smothering trap, a quilted tomb of your own making.

"this is it," you mumble to the empty air of the apartment, your voice muffled by layers of fabric, "this is how i go."

the universe, for its part, remains unbothered by your suffering.

with a theatrical groan that would earn you a standing ovation in a one-person tragedy, you yank the quilt over your head. plunging yourself into darkness once more.

but unfortunately, the muffled strains of your 'sad girl winter' playlist refusing to take the hint seep through, like overly persistent ghosts of your bad decisions in the past. it seemed that evermore was feeling less like a balm for your soul, and more like the soundtrack to your public humiliation.

somewhere in the tangled chaos of your bed, half pillows and half-sulking regret, your poor and neglected nintendo switch lies face down like it gave up on your hours ago. its screen has long since gone dark, but if you listen hard enough, you can almost hear your animal crossing villagers whispering conspiratorially, drafting a formal petition to evict you.

no doubt tom nook is already sharpening his capitalist claws, repossessing your house with an unsettling amount of glee.

but the rest of your room is not much better. the string lights on your walls flicker half-heartedly, casting an uneven glow over the wreckage of the past week.

it's not the charming nor dramatic kind of mess that makes for an artsy photo dump. no, this is the slow and unflattering unravelling of someone who let life beat them up with zero resistance. if rooms could file restraining orders, yours would have done it by now.

teetering laundry piles of discarded sweatshirts are haphazardly stacked in the corner. nearby, an empty hot cocoa mug sits, sticky with the remnants of whipped cream. candy cane wrappers are strewn across the room, the aftermath of a peppermint explosion that made your jaw ache.

but the true centrepiece of this disaster? your phone, face down on your nightstand. neglected and on silent. the one object in this room that's probably begging for attention, and one that you've been skilfully ignoring. and yet, right on cue, it buzzes again.

lighting up with a contact number that you've been ignoring all week.

choso.

and you squint at the notification, at the glowing screen that makes your eyes sting in the dim light.

sweet, dependable and utterly loyal choso.

your best friend of over a decade. the one person that you can't bring yourself to face.

the one person that also deserves so much better than this radio silence, and yet the last person that you can humanly confront. especially not after what happened last friday night.

and here, good friends, lies the crux of your problem.

that doomed night, seven days ago, has mostly dissolved into a series of blurry and fragmented snapshots. like a bad, half-finished film that you'd walked out of halfway through.

but the lead up? oh, you remember that part with the kind of clarity that should have been reserved for more important moments.

you could still feel the heat of storming out of that overpriced restaurant, half-drunk and fully pissed off, tears streaming down your cheeks and thickening your throat.

your ex-boyfriend? well, he had been your current boyfriend, before he decided to break up with you. in public. for all that classy, emotional damage that was so in character for him.

and with a line so perfectly cliché, it practically begged to be immortalised on a 'worst breakup excuses' list in cosmopolitan: i'm sorry, baby. i just don't see it working anymore. we're just too different. oh! and i found someone else.

oh, sure. but you should have been glad to have been rid of the man-child that thought frankenstein was the monster's name, the man who commented 'oxford study' on innocent tiktoks, and called pinterest 'girl instagram.'

god, what a fuckin' loser.

fuelled by a mix of public-induced heartache and questionable tequila choices, you had practically charged across street crossing. your feet hitting the pavement with the reckless kind of abandon reserved for teenagers sneaking out after curfew.

and there choso had been in your apartment. your best friend had been sitting cross-legged on your rug, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons. probably wrapping yuuji's christmas gifts with military precision. he had been balancing a roll of tape in his mouth, scissors over his lap dangerously close to the family jewels. but you had barrelled through the door like a feral cat in a downpour.

his eyes had widened, a little startled, as you made your entrance. the tape had fallen out of his mouth, chestnut hair falling over his face as he gaped. you couldn't blame choso, of course. you had looked entirely like a bedraggled, disheveled mess in a storm. cheeks streaked with mascara trails, but then everything went...fuzzy?

what did you remember? crying. lots of it.

and boy, was it a show. the kind of weeping where your face contorts into a puffed-up, berry-red disaster, and you would feel the headache creeping in even before the tears had finished.

choso's arms had caught you before you could face plant into the couch. solid, broad. warm and familiar.

you had caught the scent of clove and pepper, alongside faint citrus that you had been associating with him over the years. you had been saying something, raw and desperate.

your words had spilled out of you like water from a broken faucet.

and here you were now, reaping the glorious consequences of your own unfiltered word vomit.

seven days of stewing in your own shame and regret. but seven days were not enough to undo this level of self-sabotage. you briefly considered the options: faking amnesia, dropping out of university entirely, or best case scenario — moving to antarctica and herding emperor penguins.

you groan, sinking deeper into the abyss of your covers. and then, of course, your phone buzzed again. the dull and persistent vibration drilled into your skull like a tiny, digital drill.

cho 💜

(01:09am) hey, are you doing okay? (08:42am) tell me if you need anything! (04:23pm) hello? did i do something?

you peek at the screen, trying to avoid making eye contact with the tiny and terrifying letters. your sheet mask scrunches uncomfortably, making you look like a particularly pathetic mummy. choso's sweet and utterly patient messages were a sharp control to your gross sulk, and his concern makes you want to curl into a ball and crawl into a snowbank.

outside, christmas snow fell gently, blanketing the world in a soft and untouched white. it was like something out of a dream, a world of calm and peace. peace that your trifling ass didn't deserve.

if choso wanted to speak to you, he'd have to drag you out of your self-imposed misery himself. and even if he were to arrive at your apartment door, he'd only find a note tacked to the wall. with a map leading to the south pole.

so, what exactly had happened last friday night?

the memory rolls out like an old film reel, all jagged and distorted. the kind that you can't skip, even if you wanted to. it comes in fragments, each one more excruciatingly clear than the last. the haze of vodka-infused whipped cream shots over hot drinks slowly melting away like a bad handover.

the door to your apartment? you remember that part with embarrassing clarity. you had kicked it open with awful, ragged flair. your heel slipping on the floor, and you had nearly stacked it. face-first into your own doorway, standing there with the grace of a giraffe on roller skates.

the second the door had slammed shut behind you, a gust of frigid winter shot through the apartment like a chill reminder of your situation.

choso had been sitting cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, in the midst of complete, barbaric chaos. the roll of mauve wrapping paper teetered precariously on his dark jeans, and scissors dangled from his lap while a stripe of tape was wedged between his teeth. in between the mess of clippings and discarded tape, he seemed more like an absurdly morose-looking christmas elf that had been tasked with being santa's helper after an entire bottle of mulled wine.

but as you had walked in, or rather stumbled in, his gaze had shot up. his chestnut hair falling in messy curtains around his face, with one unruly strand intertwined with a red-white rogue ribbon. choso's face had twisted in alarm, his usual solemn manner replaced by someone who looked like they were trying to figure out whether they needed to brace themselves for good or bad news.

"hey," he had said, voice soft but sharp, like he was trying to handle fragile glass. choso had spat the tape out of his mouth unceremoniously, and he had been tugging the ribbon free rom his hair, concern all over his fine features, "what's wrong? are you okay?"

and you? a disaster. drunk, crying, furious. the recipe for an emotional molotov cocktail.

"i hate him," you had snarled, yanking off your beige coat, hurling it in the general direction of the couch. instead, your aim missed entirely. flopping halfway onto the floor, and halfway across choso's knee.

choso simply plucked the coat off his leg with two fingers, gingerly draping it over the arm of the couch. your best friend was frowning as he set down his oversized scissors, rising to his feet in a fluid motion. amber-hazel eyes flicked to yours, wide with alarm as he stepped closer, "are you hurt? is this about —?" he was hesitating, "your boyfriend?"

"no, my ex-boyfriend!" the words were ripped out of you, and your voice pathetically cracked halfway through as tears spilled down your flushed cheeks, "and 'm not hurt, cho. unless you count emotional damage," punctuating your statement with a tragic, breathy hiccup.

choso's perpetual frown deepened, as thick and unruly brows knit together, "okay," he said, voice low and steady, "do you want to sit down? i can get you some water, wait." his steps are slow, purposeful as he closes the distance between you gently, with measured care. or like he was defusing a bomb.

but you were having none of his gentle care, "no, i don't want water! i want — i want to un-date him," you wail, arms flailing as you start pacing like a caffeinated hamster, "god, i'm so stupid for dating him in the first place. and yes, i know, stop looking at me like that. i know you want to say i told you so, but he's such a —," you pause mid-rant, clawing the air for the right word, "a troll. a goblin, an ogre."

choso blinks, "maybe you should just get some fresh water in you," but there's an underlying layer of grimacing amusement painted over his quiet features, "and i didn't even say i told you so."

"no," you blurt, your head snapping so fast that your neck immediately files a complaint in the form of a sharp crick, "i don't want water. i want —"

and then, your brain short-circuited. because that's when you'd actually looked at him. like really looked.

warm hazel eyes framed by dark, sleepless circles that seemed to follow choso around like cursed ghosts. soft, feathery strands of mahogany hair that refused to stay tied back, and tumbled rebelliously into his face. that damn sweatshirt, loose and charcoal gray, and perfectly slouched over his broad shoulders. the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal forearms so solid that they could make a renaissance sculptor pack and quit.

and like a freight train at full speed, like whee-woo, the realisation hit you. choso kamo.

your best friend in the entire world. your steady and reliable, and kind to a fault best friend. better than any stupid ex that you'd ever had.

and because tequila is the nectar of chaos, and heartbreak has no filter, your mouth decided to unleash the words that you would haunt you for the next week.

"i should have been dating you."

the room is silent, as choso freezes entirely. like someone had smacked the pause button on him, and his hand, mid-reach for a glass of water, stops cold. his eyes are wide, mouth parting as though he hadn't yet processed what you had said.

"what?" choso finally manages, the words soft and stunned, like he wasn't sure that he had heard you correctly.

you, in your infinite wisdom (or rather, drunken idiocy), barrelled on like a bull who had just seen red cloth, "i'm so serious! you're the one i should've been with all along!"

you wave a hand at him, as if showcasing him to an invisible jury, "you're smart and you're sweet, and you actually care about me, unlike him!"

choso blinks, his expression unreadable, "okay," he says slowly, setting the glass back down on the table, "i think maybe, uh, you should sit down?"

"i don't wanna sit down, i want you to stop looking so perfect right now."

there's a faint flush creeping up choso's neck, like red pigment staining cream watercolour canvas, "perfect?"

"yes!" you hiccuped, teetering over the couch, "you're supposed to be my best friend, and instead you just stand there with your stupid forearms, and your everything, and it's not fair!"

choso doesn't move, doesn't even speak. just stands there, vaguely dumbstruck. like you had hung the moon, and then yanked it back down to earth to hurl it at his chest.

"i should've been dating you, cho," you declare again, louder this time, and your finger jabs his broad chest like it was somehow his fault, "you're the best, y'know that? and you're so hot, how did i not realise this sooner?"

your best friend's expression goes on a journey of varying emotions, shock and disbelief, panic and confusion. all while his candied pink lips open and close, "uh," because by now, eloquence had left the room for both parties. his hands hovering awkwardly like he wasn’t sure whether to steady you or flee. his ears noticeably red, the flush creeping down his neck.

but drunk-dumped you wasn't done. oh no, this was your oscar moment. the hill you were going to die on. the ted talk that no one asked for.

and you were on a roll now, "i mean, look at you! you've got the broody, hot guy thing down so well, and you know that's my type. and everyone knows it, like why aren't we dating already?"

choso's mouth curls again, but no sound comes out. he looks like he wants to crawl into a snowbank and bury himself there forever, "okay, i think maybe you should sit down before you hurt yourself, or, uh, the furniture."

"i'm fine!" you'd declared, throwing your arms up in defiance just as your knees decided that they were absolutely not fine. you wobbled, and in an instant, choso's warm hands are on your shoulders, steadying you with ease.

the searing heat of his touch makes your heart lurch in a way that felt far too real for comfort. you look up at him, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles dusting his nose, and your breath hitches.

he's close enough now that his lips could press against yours with the mere turn of his head. but you know that choso's just too kind and thoughtful to kiss you in this state right now. he also looks like he's about to gently suggest that you pull yourself together. you wouldn't know, because you've just bulldozed right over him with zero brakes.

tears stream down your face still, but they're starting to slow. sticky and hot, tacking to your cheeks, as you deliver the final blow, "if i asked you to kiss me now — like genuinely right now, would you, cho?"

you would never know what choso's reply would be, because you hiccup violently. the kind that punches your chest and makes you sway. fate was never done with you, because your stomach lurches in warning. you had clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with panic.

choso, bless his heart, had looked ready to throw himself in front of you, "bathroom. now," he'd commanded, his voice taking on a rare, firm edge.

and that's right where your memory cut off, mercifully plunging you into the black void of your vodka-soaked brain. no idea if you'd made it to bathroom. no idea if you'd thrown up all over him, classy as always.

but the last thing you did remember, the thing that haunted you eve now, like a ghost tapping on your shoulder, was the look on choso's face. wide-eyed, jaw slack. like you had flipped his entire world upside down.

choso sits cross-legged on the cold dorm floor, the faint creak of wood beneath him. in his hands is a neatly wrapped gift, small and unassuming. but painstakingly chosen for you. the crimson ribbon, shiny and festive, catches the light of the desk lamp.

it wasn't extravagant, nothing flashy nor pricey. but it was thoughtful, personal. something that he had picked out weeks ago, back when everything between you two had been normal.

back when you didn't look at your phone, and decide he wasn't worth answering.

choso's thumb grazes the corner of the box, smoothing over the edges of the paper that he had meticulously folded after watching youtube tutorials. but now? the box felt heavier than it had any right to. would you even want this anymore? would you even want to see him?

choso sighs, letting his head tip back against the edge of his bed frame. it was a tight and awful feeling, something small and sharp that had wormed its way into his chest.

it wasn't just the silence. it wasn't even the unanswered texts or the way you’d been avoiding him like he was the human incarnation of bad news.

it was the fact that you were you. his best friend. the person he always knew how to read — until now, when everything felt scrambled.

he stares at the gift again, his brows furrowing. he'd been turning this over in his mind for seven straight days, wearing grooves into his thoughts like a track stuck on repeat. did you regret it? did you even remember what you said?

and worse — what if you did mean it?

that last thought was the one that always hit hardest. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into his face. somewhere on his desk, his phone buzzed softly, and for a second, his pulse jumped. but when he checked, it wasn't you.

because of course it wasn’t.

"pathetic," choso muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

seven days.

seven long, agonising days since you'd stumbled into your apartment like the ghost of heartbreak past — tear-streaked, half-drunk, and dropping words so raw they’d knocked the air out of choso's lungs.

seven days since you’d looked at him like he was everything good in the world — right before nearly puking on him and passing out on the couch in a heap of drunken devastation.

and seven days of brutal radio silence ever since.

choso groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he slouched against the edge of his bed. he got it — why you'd be embarrassed. he, he was still processing it, the memory looping in his head like a cursed highlight reel.

"you're amazing, cho. you're perfect."

the words echoed, soft and slurred, over and over like a broken record choso couldn’t shut off. a selfish part of him — a really shameful, awful part — had been glad your ex was out of the picture. not that it was a surprise; choso had never liked that guy. too loud, too cocky. the kind of guy who thought buying overpriced cologne absolved him of skipping deodorant.

but then there was the other part of him — the one that made him feel like a jerk. the part that felt guilty for feeling anything at all. because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.

choso wasn't supposed to have spotify playlists privately curated with all your favourite songs. wasn't supposed to have started buying extra hair ties, just because the thought of you stealing one was so annoyingly appealing.

and he definitely wasn't supposed to have been quietly, hopelessly in love with you for five years and counting.

how many times had he messaged now? four? five? enough that he was starting to feel like that guy, the one who couldn’t take a hint. what if you'd sobered up and realised last friday was just drunk nonsense? what if you didn't like him like that at all?

had he not spent seven days drowning his misery in tubs of mango and pistachio ice cream? enough was enough.

choso's thumb hovered over your contact for a long, stupid second, debating whether to send one more pointless text. but before he could add another "hey, just checking in," he swiped away and hit a different contact. a boisterous teenager with a shock of pink hair.

he shoots off a quick text, almost grimacing as he hits send.

Choso Kamo: Need advice. Got a hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: if this is smth weird i'm not googling it for u

choso rolled his eyes, already regretting this decision. but he needed to hear an outside opinion.

Choso Kamo: It's not weird, serious this time. If someone confesses something private to you while they are drunk, then avoids you for a week, what do you do? Hypothetically?

a pause, and then:

yuujithegoat2003: is this someone a hot girl lol

choso sighed, his dry lips twitching despite himself.

Choso Kamo: Yes. Also, serious answers only. yuujithegoat2003: ok ok. do they remember what they said? Choso Kamo: Most likely not.

yuujithegoat2003: huh...so did they say something good? or was it rude? Choso Kamo: It was good. Really quite good. yuujithegoat2003: bro this seems easy, just ask if they meant it.

choso blinked at his phone, at the...almost reasonable response. suspiciously reasonable, coming from his younger brother.

Choso Kamo: And if they freak out? Or say that they didn't mean it? yuujithegoat2003: then u say 'just kidding' and blow the place up and leave the country. i can get u a fake id, i know a guy. i know lots of guys.

Choso Kamo: You need to stop being influenced by Gojo Satoru. Just because his public break-up landed on national news does not make it a premise for my own situation. Hypothetical situation. yuujithegoat2003: ok, gojo just said no one gaf abt your love life anyway. seriously tho if u like this hypothetical person, just be chill. don't be all intense and scare them off bc its never that deep.

Choso Kamo: Love is that deep. Especially when you care for the other person a lot. yuujithegoat2003: ur so dramatic bro. anyway good luck.

yuujithegoat2003: also if you get rejected don't tell me bc i can't handle second hand embarrassment. thx. gtg to work. these pizzas don't deliver themselves ay

choso glances down at the gift still in his lap, the ribbon he'd so painstakingly tied now a little crushed — much like his pride. the box stares back at him accusingly, as if to say, what's the plan here, genius? wait for her to magically show up?

choso exhales through his nose, sharp and frustrated. sitting here wallowing wasn’t doing him any favours, and neither was yuuji's unhelpful voice.

"yeah, sure," he mutters under his breath, shoving the box into his jacket pocket. he stands abruptly, grabbing his jacket off the back of his desk chair.

if you weren’t going to talk to him, fine. he'd bring the conversation to you. answers, he thought, stepping out into the cold. the winter air bit at his face, but it was bracing, grounding even. one way or another, tonight was going to settle this.

the knocking was relentless.

you tried to ignore it at first, clutching your blanket like it was a shield against all outside forces. whoever was at the door would get the hint eventually. probably. hopefully.

but no, the knocking persisted, evolving into a deliberate rhythm, like some overzealous drummer auditioning for a garage band.

"unbelievable," you groaned, peeling your headphones off and tossing them onto the pillow where they landed with a hollow clatter. if this was the pizza guy you'd ordered from two hours ago, he was wildly late, and you were too broke to tip him anyway.

dragging yourself off the mattress felt like an olympic event. your legs wobbled, your blanket fortress collapsed behind you, and your pride was buried somewhere under the covers still. at least you'd showered earlier — small victories.

your damp hair dripped cold trails down the back of your oversized sweatshirt, and you caught a whiff of cocoa butter as you shuffled to the door. that was…something acceptable at least. but then the mirror by the entryway betrayed you, reflecting sleep-swollen eyes, and the faint ghost of face mask residue clinging stubbornly to your skin.

perfect. a vision of grace and dignity.

you yank the door open, ready to unleash a pointed what do you want? — but the words lodge somewhere in your throat.

smooth. and oh, just your luck.

there stood choso, a walking anomaly in the drab matrix of your sad little existence. his tall frame fills the doorway, backlit by the flickering hallway light, clad in a baggy black tee and faded denim that didn't quite match the nervous energy rolling off him in waves. his hair was tied up in a messy bun, spiky strands sticking out like an afterthought, and of course, he looked unfairly good for someone who had probably spent the past week avoiding the sunlight.

"uh, hey," he says, his voice softer than usual — careful, even. like he thought you might throw the nearest piece of furniture at him and sprint into the night.

"hey?" you echo, voice brittle as you folded your arms tighter. the sweatshirt you were wearing — his sweatshirt, one that he had left here weeks ago — suddenly felt two sizes too big and painfully obvious, "what are you doing here?"

choso scratches the back of his neck, his gaze flickering over you briefly before darting to the floor, "i needed to see you."

"at…eight at night? without warning?"

"would you have answered if i'd texted you?"

the air between you stilled as your brain scrambles for a retort, but he had you dead to rights. with a reluctant huff, you step aside. "fair point. just come in."

choso hesitates for half a second before stepping inside, his presence making your already small apartment feel even more claustrophobic. he's taking a quick glance around, and you watched, mortified, as his eyes landed on the pile of crumpled tissues precariously close to a half-drunk mug of cocoa and a bottle of jack daniel's teetering on the edge of the coffee table.

"sorry for the mess," you mutter, your voice defensive as you crossed your arms tighter.

"it's fine," choso says, a little too quickly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer than necessary, "i didn't mean to…interrupt."

"you didn't interrupt anything." you wave vaguely at the disaster zone that was your apartment.

choso's lips twitch, almost like he wanted to smile but wasn't sure if now was the time, "look, i just —" he trails off, his usual dull voice faltering as he pulled something small and neatly wrapped from his pocket, "i came to give you this. and talk."

you stare at the gift in his hands, shiny crimson ribbon and all, your pulse kicking up like it had somewhere urgent to be, "christmas came early? thanks, cho," you say, mirroring his words with the kind of ease that only comes from too many shared silences. "i'm fine, though. i wasn't up to much."

choso cracks a small, half-hearted smile, but it's like watching a flicker of light in a dim room — there, but not really there. "i tried texting," he says, glancing at you, searching for something.

"i know," you murmur, suddenly finding the floor very interesting, "i just wasn't in the mood for much talking."

choso huffs, a sound halfway between exasperation and amusement, "i noticed," he says dryly, and that only makes the air in the room more thick and uncomfortable.

you sigh, letting your shoulders slump as you flop back onto the couch, curling your knees up to your chest like you're trying to make yourself small enough to disappear, "so, what? you came here to check if i'm still breathing?"

"kind of," choso admits, settling awkwardly on the edge of your coffee table, his long legs folded beneath him in that way that makes him look like he’s trying to physically contain himself. his knees bump into yours, and you have to fight the urge to pull away, like you could get too close, "but mostly...i came to talk about last friday night."

your stomach does a horrifying little flip, the kind that sends cold fingers crawling up your spine. you stare at him, silently willing him to read the begging look in your eyes and back off, but he doesn't. he's never been the type to take the hint.

"i've been thinking about it all week," he continues, his voice quiet but steady, as if he's preparing himself for something big, "and i need to know if —"

"nope," you interrupt, holding up a hand, "nope. we're not going there."

choso blinks at you, like he's trying to process the sudden barricate that you've just put up. but you're so not ready for this conversation, not now, nor ever. and you'll be damned if he gets any closer to the minefield. he scowls, his brows knitting together like he's resisting the urge to push you off the couch, "why not?"

"because it doesn't matter, okay?" you lean your head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling like you can will this conversation away, "i was drunk as hell, cho. you're overthinking it."

he scoffs, his voice sharp now, like he's cutting through your flimsy deflection with a blade, "i don't think i am."

you wince, shrinking a little under the weight of his stony gaze, "why does this even matter?"

"you think i can just brush it off like it didn't happen?" and there's a rawness in choso's voice that hits you harder than expected.

your cheeks heat up, a fiery blush creeping up your neck, "i didn't mean it," you mutter.

"yes, you did," choso snaps back, with uncharacteristic heat, and he leans forward, enough to close the distance between you two, "and you know how i know? because you've been ignoring me all week. if it was just some drunk nonsense, you would have laughed it off by now. but you haven't."

you open your mouth to argue, to push back. but the words stick heavy in your throat. nothing comes out, and it must prove choso all the more right, because you watch as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth, suddenly watching plush skin split.

"do you want me to apologise?" you ask finally, voice a little too sharp for comfort, "because i will. i'll say i'm sorry for putting you in that position and —"

"i don't want an apology," choso cuts you off, and the dim light of your apartment makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out like bruises, "i want the truth."

you freeze, your heart thudding like a drum in your chest, "what truth, cho?"

"that you meant it," choso says softly, "that you meant it when you said that you wish it had been me."

the words hang in the air, heavy and electric. your breath catches, as your mind goes blank. an entire power outage, as you blink at him like a fish out of water. finally, after what feels like an eternity, you force the knot in your throat to loosen just enough to speak, "yeah," you whisper, "i meant it."

choso's whole body seems to deflate, like he's been holding up the weight of the sky. his shoulders slump, and the sheer relief on his face hits you like a tidal wave. it's almost enough to undo you. there's a sound, soft and shaky and far too vulnerable that escapes him.

neither of you move. the moment stretches out, fragile. like it could snap in half if either of you dared to breathe too loud.

then, choso is the first to move.

there's no hesitation, no uncertainty. just pure intention, like a dam finally bursting open. he shifts forward, hands finding their way to your waist with an urgency that makes your pulse go into overdrive. choso's grip is firm, but there's a reverence to it, as if you're something he's waited his entire life to touch. he pulls you to him, and you can feel the heat of him flood your chest, your blood, your bones.

"what if you regret this?" you murmur into his chest, voice muffled as your arms slip around his necks, holding onto the beautiful man like he may float way.

"not a chance," choso replies, and his voice is raspier than you've ever heard it, like he's saying it more to himself than to you.

choso kamo finally kisses you.

the kind of kiss that feels like a storm is finally breaking over clear skies, with an unrestrainted longing that crashes over the both of you.

his sweet lips meet yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, raw and real. choso clearly doesn't want to hold back, and neither do you.

his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly at russet strands.

choso groans into your mouth, a soft and burning thing that ignites every nerve in your body.

without breaking his hold on your lips, his wide hands slide down, finding the back of your thighs, making you shamefully clench them closer together.

but he's tapping them in silent invitation, and you leap into him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. the world around you blurs as he stumbles backwards.

and when the back of his knees hit the edge of your bed, gravity does its job. you both tumble into the mattress in a jumbled mess of limbs and muffled laughter, your heart pounding so loud, as you muster up the courage to prod your tongue at his lips, letting him part his mouth so you can take up more of choso.

you land beneath him, his weight pressing into you in the best way possible, sending sharp spikes of heady arousal through you. and you blink up at him, breathless.

choso is so close now, his hazel eyes locked on yours with a rare intensity, like the calm façade is entirely shattered now. but there's a smile on his lips, a crooked little thing that sends a rush of warmth through you.

"hi, choso," you whisper, your voice soft yet breathless as he chases your lips again, a desperate hunger in his eyes. it's as if he can't bear to be apart from you, even for a heartbeat.

"hey," he murmurs back, that low rumble sending shivers down your spine, igniting a heat you can't ignore.

you keep pressing kisses to his glossy lips, the world narrowing down the press of his mouth and how choso's hands cradle your waist like you might slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

without breaking contact, choso shifts, his strong hands guiding you gently, firmly.

"don' wanna crush you," he spills against your mouth, his voice low and rough, and before you can reply, he flips you effortless.

the movement is seamless, fluid even. and you're suddenly perched atop him, straddling his thighs and sinking into the worn denim of his jeans.

he's leaning back against the covers beneath him, as his chest rises and falls in unsteady waves as he gazes up at you. expression caught somewhere between awe and hunger.

choso looks so completely, heartbreakingly in love with you that it leaves you breathless. his hands tighten on your waist, fingertips pressing with a near bruising intensity into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt that clings to your frame.

his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling pink, and you can't help the soft, teasing coo that slips from your lips as you trace the curve of his temple with gentle fingers, "is something wrong, cho?" you murmur.

his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss, part slightly, his breath uneven and catching on the edges of unspoken emotions, "nothing. nothing, i swear," he says, the words tumbling out rough and raw, his voice pitched low and vulnerable.

his hands slide you closer, his grip firm but trembling slightly, and his next confession nearly undoes you, makes your core moisten even, "just…never done this before."

"really?" you whisper, eyes widening as you take him in — the flush on choso's cheeks, the way he won't quite meet your gaze, the way he holds you like you're something precious.

the realisation that he's never shared this part of himself with anyone else tugs sharply at your heartstrings, "never?"

choso swallows thickly, nodding once, his voice a quiet hum as he admits, "mhm."

"ah, you're so cute, cho," you giggle, watching as the man scrunches his nose in mock protest.

"tch, 'm not meant to be cute."

you huff, feigning disappointment, "and here i was, wishing you a very merry christmas eve." he whines as you lean in, pressing a teasing kiss to his neck, right where his heartbeat thrums beneath his pale skin. your lips find their home at the juncture, and you can't help but smile at the way he whines at your touch, bucks his hips up into yours.

"must have been real good to get a holiday gift like this."

you pull back just enough to admire your handiwork, a little red bloom that blossoms on thin skin, bruised petals that mark him now. choso's swallowing thickly, his adam's apple bobbing, as a soft whine escapes his lips again as you lean in, this time closer to the jaw. leaving a trail of kisses in a messy that makes choso squirm.

you press your thumb against his lower lip, feeling the soft and trembling skin quiver under your touch, "hey. open up," you coax, a teasing lilt colouring your voice.

choso looks up at you, his wide eyes clouded with desire as dark strands of hair fall across his forehead, "huh, what?"

you tap his lip again, impatience bubbling in your chest, "c'mon, open your mouth. properly," and the way he immediately obeys, parting his glossy lips sends a thrill through you. the scent of clove and citrus envelops you as you lean in closer, running your tongue over his lower lip.

you let a glob of spit fall from your lip into his mouth, with a thick thwack! echoing in the air. you deliberately miss, just a little bit, to watch him squirm as he swallows, eyes fluttering shut and inky lashes staining his cheeks.

"so good, aren't you? good at playing nice, hah," you use your thumb to smear the slick over his lips, just a bit. to watch him shudder, entirely captivated by you. it's exhilarating and makes your cunt clench around nothing. probably seeping through the thin material of your shorts and onto his thick jeans.

bang bang bang!

a sharp knock that booms at your door, enough to make your ears ring. you hear choso groan beneath you, shifting slightly so you can feel the full, thick curve of his bulge right where you need him most.

"think we can ignore that?" he rasps, his voice rough and low, the sound of it leave slick strands clinging between your thighs.

you spread your legs just a little wider over him, watching as his frown dissipates and his jaw drops, distracted by the preview you've given him, "i'm really hoping so."

but whoever is at the door has no intention of being ignored. another knock rattles the wood, followed by an all-too-familiar voice yelling, "hey! open up! delivery!"

your brows furrow, recognition sparking, "cho, isn't that—"

he cuts you off with an apologetic sigh, lifting you off his lap with surprising gentleness. choso sets you down on the quilt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before muttering under his breath, "it better not be."

you watch him go, more than a little distracted by the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his messy hair bobs with each step. already, you're plotting exactly how you’ll get your hands back in it once he returns.

choso swings the door open, and you hear a collective, "what the hell?" echo through the apartment — one part you, one part choso, and one part…

"itadori yuuji?" you blurt, leaning over to get a look. sure enough, there's choso's younger brother, standing in the doorway in a bright red pizza delivery uniform, balancing three large boxes in one hand and his phone in the other.

yuuji blinks at the two of you, then raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and something vaguely accusatory before reading off his phone in a robotic voice, "uh…merry christmas eve. i have three pizzas. extra cheese. stuffed crust," he pauses, not able to keep the act up as his golden eyes narrow, "but, uh — bro, what happened to your face?"

you bite your lip to keep from laughing as choso straightens, his expression caught somewhere between mortified and furious, "yuuji—"

but the younger man's attention shifts to you, his gaze taking in the oversized sweatshirt you're wearing, choso's sweatshirt, and his jaw drops, "oh hell no. this is the hot girl you texted me about?"

choso visibly flinches as you burst into giggles.

"that's like your best friend? that's like my sister-in-law!" yuuji throws up his hands in mock disbelief, "you really keep your circles tight, huh, man?"

before choso can even respond, yuuji leans in closer, squinting at his older brother, "and seriously, dude, what's all that on your face?"

choso groans, snatching the pizzas from yuuji with one hand and shoving him toward the hall with the other, "okay, that's enough. get out."

"you haven't paid me! that's against the law!" yuuji protests, but choso grabs the scruff of his brother's uniform collar, steering him out the door.

"i'll pay you double. triple. just leave."

"my pizzas are probably cold now anyway," you call out, adding fuel to the fire.

"yeah? well, you look a bit too busy to eat them anyway," yuuji swivels his head over his shoulder to wag a finger at you with a grin, before choso finally shoves him fully into the hallway.

as the door slams shut, you hear yuuji's muffled voice echoing, "i'm telling everyone. i'm telling dad. i'm telling sukuna. i'm telling gramps, gojo, nanami —"

you can hear their bickering voices fade down the hallway, to where choso is probably gonna pack him into the car and send him off.

you glance down at the box you'd set aside earlier, your curiosity getting the better of you. carefully pulling at the ribbon, you open it to find a small scrapbook, beautifully made. inside are photos and clippings of you and choso: movie ticket stubs, receipts from late-night takeout runs, train tickets from your trip to the coast.

your chest tightens as you run your fingers over the familiar handwriting scrawled in the margins, a quote from a cheesy romantic movie that you had forced choso to watch with you a few months ago. what an honour it is to be loved like this.

[fromchaostocosmos]

The amount of incorrect things being said in it are innumerable. Once again it just show the total lack of understanding about Judaism.

On even the most basic rudimentary and fundamental things.

Also the disrespect to Native Americans and their practices is noticeable as well. To use words like demons to describe entities from a culture that does not a have a word "demon" is rude at best and is a form colonization and Supersessionism at it worst.

I know that you are not supposed to say W*ndigo and especially if there is snow. I also know that many Native American people censor the name when writing not out of respect, but as a preventive measure because you don't want to bring attention to it.

That is why I have censored it.

I find it disrespectful to call it a demon.

All this demonology stuff you are entitled to believe in, but what you need to understand is that it comes from Christianity. That is a fact and the reality.

And thus it is rooted in Cultural Appropriation and Supersessionism just as Christianity is.

Because you are still working in that Christian frame work.

Malachim or as they wrongly translated to angels do not have free will within Judaism. Free will is something that unique to humans. That is what makes us human, that is why humans struggle, and that is why humans can not be perfect.

That whole thing about free will and humans being the only creation to have it is a huge part of Judaism and Jewish philosophy. The idea that we straddle the animalisitic world, the base desire, and the spiritual world, higher self, and the balance we need to find in that is again a major aspect of Jewish philosophy.

Yatzer Hara, the evil inclination, is not sin. That is not what it means and that is not what that concept is about.

Listen let me explain something I grew up in studying my people, my faith, the history of my people, the culture, and more both at home and in school.

I took tests and wrote papers on this stuff. I wrote speeches on the Tanach. I studied it. I was and still am immersed in it. I was surrounded by it from birth. I went to school from 8:30 to 4:45 and for the first of the day did Judaic studies on varying topics.

Much of what I described is not uncommon for most Jews.

I still like your average Jewish person find a way to participate in the study and discussion of the documents, scripture, commentary, etc. because that is what we do.

We Jews live it and we breathe and that is how we have been doing since before the Greeks and the Romans and Babylonians, and the Assyrians and whoever else.

And while they might be gone, we on the other hand are not. So for you to try and think that you lecture any one of us on our own stuff is laughable.

You do not have the knowledge, experience, and time to be able to do that.

We study and debate and discuss and argue because for us that is how it is and when we agree it still sounds like we don't because we are passionate and because the Tanach is alive. It lives in every Jew and we breath it. It is a living document.

Everyone deserves the freedom to their own beliefs, but that does not give them to right to steal and take from others and then be dishonest about what they are doing.

Lilith from Judaism is not Lilitue of Sumeria and they are very different.

Lilith is not and was not Adam first wife. That idea comes from a satirical work that was written in the Middle Ages. Not an actual serious philosophical or theological piece called The Alphabet of Ben Sira.

There is a reason that Jew groan every time we see or hear Lilith being called Adams first wife.

I mean there is a lot more fascinating and actual commentary about Adom and Chava that already exists, some of my personal favorites coming from Ramban רמב״ן (Nachmanides).

So thanks for theft and Supersessionism, but like no thank you our dance card in regards to both of those currently already full. You know maybe you make an orderly queue and that would it easier for us to deal with all of you who keep stealing from us and colonizing us and you doing the whole Supersessionism thing to us.

Or maybe we can the like take a number thing. Basically we need to find a better system.

Or maybe just maybe you could just stop doing that shit to us and others. Just a thought.

Hi, Shi! So, I saw your post about white saviours in the community and I wanted to ask about the Judaism one specifically. I am not white but nor am I Jewish, in ethnicity or religion, but I was also told that demonolatry spreads harmful ideas about Judaism. Because of that, I kind of stepped back from my demonolatry research for a moment. But your post did get me thinking. I guess I'm kind of just asking for clarification. Is it okay for me to practice demonolatry as a non-Jewish person or not? Sorry for the super long ask. Thank you, love your blog!

Okay, this is a kind of complex topic.

Demonolatry is the practice of worshipping demons. This can apply to any demon not just those with English names. There are people who worship the demons mentioned in Islam just as much as there are those who worship those with Jewish and Latin names, and there’s a ton of overlap.

The concept of “demon” can only exist if you conceive of some kind of supernatural divide between Gods and spirits. Many demonolaters consider all spirits including Gods to be “Spirits”; the distinction is not important and doesn’t have any real meaning. It’s rare to hear of demons in religions or spiritualities that do not have a dualistic philosophy, you don’t hear about Hindu demons often for example. And the word “demon” in English comes from the Greek “daimon” actually referred to any spirit or divine being. Pinpointing what is and isn’t demon, daemon or spirit is a matter of perspective.

The idea that you can only work with demons that have Hebrew names if you are a Jew is one that literally doesn’t make grammatical sense.

If you are a practicing Jew or hold an Abrahamic theology, to worship or revere any demon would be a violation of your theistic laws. It’s a sin, a big one. Every deity, spirit, God/Goddess from every other religion or belief is a demon to you because you believe there is only one true God. That means Norse, Greek, Egyptian, etc. deities are also considered to be demons.

Because of this theology, every time that people of Abrahamic religions (Christians, Catholics, Jews, Muslims) encountered pagans who worshipped other Gods, they were demonized. Aphrodite/ Astarte became Astaroth, Phosphorus became Lucifer who then became Satan, Cerberus became Naberius, and so on and so on.

It’s incredibly important to remember that just because a name is written in a certain language, Hebrew for example, that does not directly imply that the deity is closed to the religion of Judaism. Not all people who spoke Hebrew were Isrealites, and not every spirit that was described by them was closed to them. Lilith for example was a deity/spirit that was recognized by multiple groups of people before the Israelites existed as a definitive and monotheistic group. Lilith was described by the Sumerians for example, her strongest surviving name and archetype is that which was described by the Jews because the Jews themselves survived and the Sumerians did not.

Most demonic names you will encounter will either be written in Latin, English, or Hebrew, not because these demons are closed to those cultures but because their documentation was only ever really considered legitimate when it was done by the followers of Yahweh. This is one of the major effects of colonization in general. If I as a Phoenician pagan say that Astarte is kind and beautiful, that doesn’t matter to any Roman Catholic. If I as a Catholic say that Astaroth is a perverted demoness who tricks men into demonic sex, the church might actually listen and write that down. Us 1000 years in the future may look at that name and assume Astaroth is a Roman demon and not a Phonecian Goddess who was described by Roman people and documented in Latin.

We speak English, so the demons that are accessible to us are usually recorded from the Abrahamic religions that speak English- Christianity. Our demons are not cosmologically “Christian” nor necessarily have anything to do with the Christian God specifically (Lucifer is a Roman deity and would have had no biblical interactions or connection with YHWH according to their origins). But Christians gave them names and we use those names for the sake of consistency and to reduce confusion across languages. Many times, the original names have been lost and the infernal aspect and name is all that remains. It is the life’s work of many Demonolaters to restore their deitie’s cult to its glory, to discover these dead names or to ensure that the surviving name… survives.

There are a select few demons who’s names originate in the Jewish tradition, Azazel for example, was the scapegoat of the Isrealites who then went on to command the Watchers who became the fathers of the Nephilim. But these demons aren’t necessarily considered to be closed to Judaism- again, because no Jew is ever going to reach out to a demon before the big GOD himself. There is no theological reason why Azazel would only recognize Jewish or Christian people. If you acknowledge Azazel as the scapegoat and use that name, you are referencing his archetype as it was described by the Isrealites. Likewise if you use the name Lilith and consider her to be Adam’s first wife, you are also using her archetype as she was described by the Jews. But that doesn’t mean that Lilith herself is considered to be a sacred figure within the religion of Judaism any more than Aphrodite is. They’re all demons. There is only one God.

There’s a stronger argument to be made for the big three Jewish angels - Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, being closed to the Jewish religion because they literally are the angels patroned to the people of Israel and they are majority involved in the actual worship of their God- although I don’t really consider them to be closed either because, according to their theology, they would protect any human being created by God (which would be everyone).

The thing that you actually need to consider is if the deity is:

1. Culturally tied specifically and only to the people inside that closed religion- Demons were said to fuck with everyone, all of humanity, not just Jews. The Wendigo was a culturally significant creature that specifically targeted the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island.

2. Intrinsic to the actual act of worship/ practicing itself- No practicing Jew incorporates Lilith or any demon into their prayers in the way they might with Archangel Michael.

3. Conceived of by the culture itself- Lilith is far older than Judaism and they do not claim to have conceived of her, whereas Michael was literally created by the Isrealites and was always said to act in the best interest of Israel as a nation.

4. Is revered and considered sacred- If I call Lilith or Belial nasty little whores, no jew is going to flinch, they probably agree. If I even speak the name of their God which is considered to be so sacred that it should not even be said in prayer, that’s insanely offensive. If I use the Tetragrammaton or wear it frivolously, someone is going to call me out.

Many western occultists have certainly appropriated sacred things from other cultures, ESPECIALLY from Judaism. Rather than admit their clear inspiration they bastardized the names and essentially stole incredibly important spiritual concepts (Qabalah). As much value is there is in the Qliphothic tradition it is also majorly appropriated from Jewish mysticism which is supposed to be knowledge closed to specific Rabbis. That’s why I’m not the biggest fan of people like Aliester Crowley.

This doesn’t mean to say that you can’t learn about anything Jewish, or Indigenous or Muslim etc. I try my best to always learn from people who are actually of the faith and not asshats who try to take the culture out of the practice. Some things genuinely are sacred and should not be appropriated, I don’t think that demons in general are one of those things.

It’s also important to remember that practices and deities aren’t always synonymous.

The Loa sprits of Voodoo religions are closed because they are ancestral spirits specific to the people in that culture. I can’t invoke my Haitian friend’s great great great grandmother and expect her to do my bidding. I can’t invoke the ancestral spirits of the Indigenous peoples of America and expect it to recognize me. I can’t even pronounce those names.

Hoodoo being closed to the black community is due to Hoodoo being not only a practice,but a survival mechanism of the black slaves who were imported into America during the slave trade. It was the blending of African spirituality with the assimilated Christianity of their masters. But theologically, most black people who practice Hoodoo have a predominantly Abrahamic faith, with belief in the Bible (although usually an alternate version) and belief in the one true God. You cannot practice the act of Hoodoo if you do not have the context of your experience as black person and the unique familial/ancestral relationships and knowledge they possess.

Likewise, you cannot practice Native American spirituality, or smudge with white sage because you do not have any experience or context living as an aboriginal in this land. Due to … yknow, colonization and genocide, most aboriginal tribes have opted to keep their practices extremely closed and sacred. I couldn’t even do it if I wanted to because I don’t even know where to start, I would have to be taught by the people they have elected to know this sacred practice.

You cannot be a practicing Jew if you are not initiated into the religion. Working with these fringe spirits is not nearly the same as appropriating the closed Jewish practice. What I and other demonolaters do is not even remotely close.

Demonolatry is not organized, it’s a self actualizing practice. Sure we have priests and priestesses, but we usually operate in cults.

I don’t know how to explain the irony in this take because if demonolaters and outcasts don’t work with and worship these spirits … literally no one will. The left hand path is crooked for a reason, alternative subcultures are alternative for a reason. The cults of Phosphorus and Lilith have never been as big as they are now. For these fringe deities to have survived so long and somehow even entered the mainstream is honestly incredibly impressive lol.

People who are unconcerned with being outcasted from Abrahamic theology aren’t going to stop practicing with their demons because religious people think it’s bad. I’m already practicing witchcraft. I already don’t believe in monotheistic theology, and there’s an entire rainbow of other things I do that are unacceptable to Judaism, Christianity and so on. The thing I care about is not disrespecting the actual culture and the things that are truly important to them.

You won’t really catch me wearing crosses, referencing Catholic practices, or talking about my practice in reference or opposite to Christianity or Judaism. I don’t defile Jewish or Christian traditions or bastardize their teachings. My practice is not the invert of their doctrine. It’s a completely separate and individual practice and philosophy.

This is LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE

TLDR: No, demonolatry is not antisemitic.

It can be antisemitic if you happen to be antisemitic and many antisemitic people have historically ruined the fun for the rest of us (thanks Crowley)

But no, practicing Demonolatry does not make you racist. Being a pagan also doesn’t mean you hate religion.

[misayani]

i love your se-mi fic, it made me giggle, twril my hair and shi HAHDBWBFNS please make more of her and full fic on your first one😈😈

DUMB DUMB — SE-MI (PLAYER 380)

◜ pairing ... se-mi / player 380 x  fem reader

◜connected to [HONEY (R U COMING?)]

𔗨 author's note — i cant really tell if i consider this as the second part to the first one but this one and that one's connected. anyways first smut ive ever written, im gonna kms [lowercase intended]

p.s. pls send reqs, as much as possible specific ones so i could actually get into it jssjsks ok bye

warnings: smut [mean-ish se-mi, fingering]

all your attitude was long gone ever since you step foot in the women's bathroom with se-mi following behind. 

who would've thought that you both managed to convince one of the guards to let you both go to the restroom in the middle of the night? well it was mostly you who kept blabbing your mouth as to why you needed to go to the bathroom so bad to the guard. nonetheless, here you are now— on the bathroom floor, bottoms naked, knees spread, and se-mi fingers deep inside you. 

"fuck—!" you hissed as se-mi inserted a third finger into you, closing your eyes in the process. the amount of sensations are definitely overwhelming you right now.

suddenly, she stops her actions making you whine and flutter your eyes open. "w-why'd you stop?" you hiccup,

"look at me when i'm fucking you. you close your eyes, i stop. got it?" she lowly demands. every word that came out of her mouth clear, making sure you know she's not joking around. 

your lower lip trembles as you nod slowly, staring right into her piercing eyes. she began thrusting her fingers into you once again, her gaze locked onto your desperate expression.

"look at you panting like a fucking dog. weren't you just insulting someone earlier about looking like a lost puppy?" she spats at you. you bite your lower lip in attempt to muffle out your moans as she keeps pounding into you. 

spank !

you let out a gasp at the sudden contact. se-mi had just spanked your exposed cunt. 

"where's that bratty attitude you were pulling earlier now?" she scoffs at you as all you can do was just stare at her with a pouty expression.

"can't fucking talk? am i fucking you dumb, baby?" you felt tears prick at the ends of your eyes as you sniffle, reaching out for her desperately.

"please come closer" you whine, "need you close.." 

fortunately, she complies. she shifts her body closer to yours and you latch your hands onto her shirt. she thrusts her fingers faster causing a moan to slip out of your lips. 

"please, kiss me" you pleaded, "i don't think you deserve it, though?" she teases. 

"se-mi.." fuck, you really wanted her so bad. you wanted her to have you whole, to fuck you, to kiss you. 

"please" you hiccup, "want your l-lips on mine" you were basically begging at this point. never in your life have you begged to someone like this, so helpless and desperate.

a continuous string of pleases and curses left your mouth as she continued ruining you. 

"poor baby," se-mi coos at you, "cum first and maybe i'll let you kiss me." 

se-mi's fingers curl inside you and you groan, removing one of your hands from her shirt and placed it on her jaw, cupping it softly. 

You start to feel your orgasm build up inside you as if it wanted to swallow you whole. you let out soft moans, your eyes still locked onto se-mi's piercing ones but your eyesight was getting hazy. 

somehow, se-mi manages to hit a deeper spot inside you, as you finally hit your breaking point.

you moan her name out as a wave of euphoria hit you, She closes the distance between you two as you shut your eyes and drop your head onto her shoulder, her arms catching your sides.

"fuck" she breathes out, "you did well baby." she caressed your hair and lets you breathe for a moment. 

once she felt you relax your body onto hers, she pulls away from you and tilts your head slightly upwards. you flutter your eyes open and they were met with her gaze— soft and very unlike to the one she just had earlier, dangerous and seductive.

fina-fucking-lly, she leans in and presses her lips onto yours before softly kissing you. without hesitating, you kissed back. her lips were surprisingly soft despite being somewhat dehydrated in this place.

you felt the cold metal of her piercing on your tongue while you nibbled on her bottom lip. she moves one of her hands to your cheek, cupping it softly before you pulled away to breathe. 

"let's clean you up." se-mi said standing up and walking to one of the bathroom stalls before coming back with a tissue roll on hand.

once done cleaning up and wearing your underwear and pants back on, a firm knock was heard outside the door. just on time.

"it's time to head out" you both heard the muffled voice say. se-mi gives you a final kiss on the lips before opening the door and letting you walk out the bathroom first.

still, you can't quite comprehend what just happened. all you can think of was how se-mi just fucked the attitude out of you.

@misayani

[lilaccmilk]

Write it on my neck, why don't ya?

(And I won't erase it, I need you more than I want to)

content warning: mentions of hickeys, smut obv, reader is referred to as “she”

Imagine possessive werewolf boyfriend.

You both are out at a party, and some guy just won’t stop trying to hit on you. You are looking for your boyfriend who has went to get you both drinks.

The guy in front of you tries putting his hands on you, but you back away. Your back comes in contact with your boyfriend’s chest. He stares down at the guy and pulls you closer to him by your waist.

“Back the fuck off, she’s taken” he snarls. You both leave the party soon after and your boyfriend hasn’t said a word since then. It’s bothering you, but suddenly he pulls over into the side of the almost empty road and stops the car.

“What happened? Are you fine?” you try to get to know the reason of your boyfriend’s silence. He looks at you for a split second and growls out “Sit on my lap.” Not wanting to piss him off even more, you do as he says.

As soon as you’re on his lap, he kisses you with such intensity that the air is knocked out of your lungs. He kisses like a mad man. He pulls away and your body forces you to inhale as much air as possible because of the previous lack of it.

Your lipstick is ruined and he doesn’t seem to care. He then goes for your neck, biting you, marking you as his. Only his. He doesn’t let up his assault on your neck, the beast in him not satisfied. But then again, when is he ever? With you, he is feral, he forgets them meaning of words like patience.

Your hands reaches to unzip his pants, his swollen cock springs out, precum leaking out in copious amounts. Wordlessly, he slides your panties to the side and sinks into you. Your velvet walls welcoming him with eagerness. As always, he is pussy drunk as soon as he is inside you. He starts growling out things that has been on his mind.

Fucking human–hah– thinks he stands a chance with you, my mate. Have to mark you–ah–up. Show them that you’re all–hnng– mine.

He thrusts into you with a brutal place. The wet squelches your cunt is making, might have you feeling shy and embarrassed in other days, but you are far too gone to even care. You feel pleasure building up in your lower stomach and it crashes over you. Your boyfriend cums soon after, his knot keeping his seed inside.

“Tomorrow” he starts, “when you go out, don’t cover these up.” “I won’t.” you reply breathlessly.

part two

[meo-eiru]

I must thank you for creating Silas because he’s awakened something in me. I’m curious as to what would happen if he decides to… devour his darling… (wink, wink nudge, nudge). I know you mentioned earlier how he would start feeling lewd if his darling chose to… devour him… for his pleasure. Would the thought cross his mind to return the favor both as an experiment to see how his darling’s… feminine fluids… affected him as well as to see her face and body contort in pleasure as he… goes down on her… the thought has been haunting me all day. — 🦚

Silas likes touching you, even though he doesn't understand his feelings he seeks pleasure from you without realizing it. And he also wants you to experience the same warm and tingly feeling.

With how interested he is in your fluids it's only a matter of time before he tries to bury his head between your legs. Maybe he noticed a change in your smell, picked up on your arousal or noticed you were a bit wet while changing your clothes. He would ask what that is curiously and even if you tell him to don't mind it he'll pull your underwear down while saying stuff like "It's okay you don't have to hide it from mama" "I'll just check you don't have to be shy about showing it to me"

He would first look at it in fascination, It's not the first time he has seen you naked but he didn't know that area could get wet like that. It doesn't seem like pee... It's more sticky and see through... He wants to try touching it!

He'll pick some up using his fingers against your protest and inspect it a bit. It's a much different texture than your other fluids how incredibly fascinating. Then before you can say no he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste it. It's just so interesting, it's not a taste he's used to. It feels a bit salty and sticky... He needs to try more.

Before you can react he puts his head between your legs saying he'll help clean you up, but really he just wants more of this new and mysterious juice. His tongue is weird. It's surprisingly longer than a human's, pinkish and much smoother. It's such a strange sensation but no matter how much you push his head he won't budge.

Silas is just so excited! The more he licks you clean the more fluid you produce, it's amazing! It's like you're willingly giving him more for him to consume❤️❤️ Ahh he wants more more more. It tastes so good, feels so good in his mouth. You've been letting out such adorable noises since he started, he didn't know he could make you feel good like this. He'll definitely take a note to do this more often.

But what if he goes deeper? They've been coming from inside your body, so if he goes deeper he can taste more right? Soon enough he's tongue deep in you lapping your juices like a thirsty dog. Oh god this feels so weird, his tongue goes so deep inside, you feel so full. It also has such smooth texture, you don't think you can hold back for much longer.

Before long you're cumming as you moan in pleasure. How embarrassing. Meanwhile Silas is in heaven, for some reason suddenly the amount of fluids increased and he's having a blast drinking it all up. Your voice has gone up too, ah he loves this so much.

He might continue and overstimulate you for another hour, until he notices you're getting too dazed. He just assumes he did a good job taking care of you and you need some rest. It's ok! You two can continue after you wake up❤️❤️

[alex51324]

It's actually stupider than that; you can't buy hot food. Prepared food that is meant to be cold (like salads or sandwiches) is fine, and so is food that you're supposed to take home and microwave.

But if the store has the same item sitting under a heat lamp, you can't buy it with food stamps.

So, rotisserie chickens--near-universally lauded as both an economical source of protein and a efficient way to get a "real" meal on the table after work--are unavailable to poor people on public assistance, unless the store puts some in the cold case (& labels them as cold, so they scan as SNAP eligible).

Some stores (coughWalMartcough) like to do this with chicken that has been sitting under the heat lamps for a while and doesn't look so good. This "EBT Chicken" isn't any cheaper than fresh, hot chicken that has not been repeatedly rejected by other customers, but you can buy it with food stamps.

And there's no ambiguity whatsoever about who this chicken is for; the new stickers they put on it literally say "EBT Chicken."

So what the store shown above is doing is emphatically not that: they are offering fresh, hot chicken in a way that gets around the SNAP rules.

(Note: SNAP and EBT aren't technically the same thing, but for some reason grocery stores tend to say EBT when they mean SNAP. SNAP is Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or food stamps; EBT is Electronic Benefits Transfer, which is when benefits automatically load onto a debit card every month. The same physical card can do both SNAP and cash assistance*, but the eligibility criteria for SNAP are usually broader, so a lot of people only have SNAP on their card. And, of course, if you do have both, when you're at the grocery store you'll probably run your card as SNAP first, and then use your cash benefits for whatever didn't go as SNAP.)

(*Not actually cash, since it's on the card, but unrestricted funds. Most public assistance programs try to do as little cash as possible; they'll do direct payments for housing, utilities, etc., so the person receiving the benefits never actually has control of the money.)

Solidarity

[redhead1180]

Sunshine

Pairing - dark!Rafe x pogue fem!reader

Summary - Reader has a crush on JJ, but JJ is dating Kie. Rafe decides he wants reader to get over JJ, no matter her say in the matter.

Words - 3k

Warnings MDNI - NON CON, DUB CON, drugging with E, slapping, physical fight (m vs f), dry humping, alcohol use, drug use, rough sex (p in v), degradation, blackmail, very dark Rafe.

A/N: This is my darkest piece I have ever wrote and of course it's for Rafe. He is mean SOB in this, so if that triggers you, please don't read. Thank you to @haven247 for the beta read. I am nervous about writing this dark, but hope you like it. PLEASE HEAD THE WARNINGS!

Being at a kook party was not your idea of fun, but they had free booze and it was better than a keggar. After the last week you’ve had, you have every intention of getting plastered and trying to forget your crush and best friend was dating someone else.

JJ your best friend since you were 4 and crush since you were 14, was officially dating Kie. And it hurt, a lot. You knew it was coming, saw the writing on the wall, but held out hope it wouldn’t. The only person who knew about the crush, that you knew of, was John B. He was your brother from another mother, and knew you inside and out. You three had been friends so long, you don’t remember a time when they weren’t there. John B has given you hug and told you he was sorry the day you saw them kissing through the Chateau window. He informed you they were dating and you had gone home and cried yourself to sleep. Avoiding them this past week, but couldn’t get around it for this party.

You had watched them dance, laugh, and make out, and were completely ready to vomit. Or wait, was they alcohol? I was in my 3rd concoction of the night and was not feeling much of anything. Well physically anyway.

Anyway, you were in the kitchen getting another drink, when you heard the last voice, you wanted to here.

“Well, well if it isn’t Miss Sunshine” Rafe Cameron sneered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Cameron” I told him, trying not to say more and start something.

“Anyone ever told you have a venomous mouth, Sunshine” he laughed.

“Only to you, Cameron. Everyone else thinks I am adorable and sweet” my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I bet you taste sweet” he chuckled. I turned around and caught him looking me up and down. He showed no shame for being caught. “What’s got you drowning in booze tonight? Wouldn’t have anything to do with Maybank and Carrera doing the horizontal mambo, would it?”

“You’re such an asshole, Cameron” You go to walk past him and he grabs your upper arm and pulls close to him.

“Most girls that talk to me the way you do get punished” he leered, inches from my face.

So, side note, when I drink, I think I am ten feet tall and bulletproof. And tonight was no exception.

“Let go of me you fucking psycho!” I hissed at him, pulling my arm. Unfortunately, he was so much stronger than me, my arm barely moved in his grasp. “I swear to God Rafe, I am not in the mood for your bullshit tonight.”

“Don’t call me psycho and I think I need to teach you some manners.” he growled right before he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me in to kiss him.

I instantly started pushing on him and struggling to get free. I bit his lip and he howled in pain and jerked back. I slapped him across the face, not caring this was Rafe Cameron, Kook Prince himself, and no one ever told him no.

He snapped his head back and I looked in his eyes. They were completely black, no amount of blue left, and had a predatory look that actually caused a little fear to creep up my spine. Something else, God help me, arousal shot through to my core and made me soak my panties.

I started to back away and with each step I took back, he took forward.

“Rafe just fucking walk away, leave me alone” I try to sound defiant and flippant, but not sure I pulled it off. His grin was pure evil, reminding me of every Disney villain I ever watched.

*Oh Sunshine, you really shouldn’t have done that” he smirked. I turn to run and get one of the pogues, but he grabs me by my waist and turns me around to throw me over his shoulder.

“You psychotic motherfucker, put me down!” I yell as I punch his back as hard as I can. He just grunts and slaps my ass hard, bringing tears to my eyes and more arousal to leak out of me. My mind was telling me to fight because you hate him, but my body was yelling at me to let him have his way.

He takes you to some room, locks the door, and proceeds to throw you on the bed. He immediately grabs both your wrists and roughly jerks them above your head, causing you to arch your back from the roughness and your tits rub against his chest. The lace bra you wear offered little protection from the friction and instantly your nipples hardened. Rafe chuckles as his free hand rubs over my breasts and pinches my nipples.

“You may not want this, but your body does” he chuckles as his hand slides down over my stomach and to the waistband of my shorts. I continue to struggle, he slaps my bare thigh, causing me to gasp. I know if I looked down right now, there would be a red hand print.

“You’re a feisty thing, maybe we should get you a little more pliant.” He threatens.

I see him reach in the pocket of his shorts, but don’t see anything in his hand when he pulls it out.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing?” I demand trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

“Just a little something to make you enjoy it more.” He smirks as he places a pill on his tongue and grabs my jaw to look at him.

“Open up, Sunshine” he murmurs as leans in to kiss me.

I try to shut my mouth, but the hold he has on my jaw won’t let me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth and I feel the pill begin to dissolve as he devours my mouth. God he is a good kisser, I can’t stop myself as I whine in the kiss, causing him to moan. He held my jaw until the pill was fully dissolved, then he lets go, but we continued to kiss. Fuck, what was I doing, this was Rafe, I should be biting his fucking tongue off, yet I didn’t want the kiss to stop. He finally pulls away when air became a necessity.

“What the fuck did you give me, Rafe?” I pant, still trying to catch my breath from the kiss.

“Aww Sunshine, it’s just a little E to make you forget your troubles and help me fuck you without the feistiness.” He smiles down at me. I start to struggle again and hurt him in some fashion. His hold on my wrists and him between my legs really left me defenseless, and he knew it.

“Now let’s get rid of these clothes.” He grabs the neckline of my shirt and rips it down the middle. I screech from shock, and he continues ripping till it is off me.

“Oh Sunshine, you have some beautiful tits.” He groans as he leans down and latches his lips on one of my nipples. I gasp out from pleasure as he sucks, nibbles and licks my nipples through my bra. Thousands of jolts of delight ripple through my body to my core. I began to feel a zing of energy and mixing that with pleasure, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my hips up into Rafe.

“That’s it baby, let the drug begin to work. Let me make you feel good and forget Maybank for tonight.” He murmurs as he continues his assault on my tits, his mouth on one and his hand, pulling and pinching the other.

“More” I whimper to him, trying to get more friction. He reached behind me undoing my bra and let go of my wrists, I moved my arms so he can get off. My hands fly into his hair to push more into my chest. He grinds down on me and I groan, I feel the heat build in my stomach.

I have a slight moment of clarity, where I thought what the fuck am I doing, when Rafe rolls his hips and the tip of cock hits the seam in my shorts just right to rub my clit and I see stars. I moan out as I squeeze my eyes shut and let my orgasm wash over me.

“Fuck Sunshine, when was the last time you came?” he chuckles, reaching down to unbutton my shorts and take them off. He stands up, using the opportunity of me in a blissful state, to rid himself of his clothes. I look over to him and see his cock saluting me. My eyes wide at how big he was.

“Shit Rafe, I don’t know what you plan to do with that monstrosity, but it ain’t fitting in me.” I say in wonder.

“I’ll make it fit,” he said as he spread my legs and slapped my pussy. I yelped, still sensitive from my release, but it caused a wildfire to spread through my veins. He slapped it a few more times, rendering me a whiny mess. I tried to hide my face, ashamed at how he was making me feel. I knew the E was mainly to blame, but a part of me knew it wasn’t all the drugs.

“Oh, don’t be shy now” Rafe taunted as he pulled my hands from face and roughly kissing me.

Distracted by his kiss, I didn’t notice he lined his cock up to enter me. He shoved it in my soaked pussy and I screamed in his mouth. The pain and burn from his stretching without prep was almost unbearable. Instantly, tears formed in my eyes and I pulled my mouth free.

“FUCK!” I cried out “Rafe, get out, pull out, it hurts so bad!” I cry but he continues to snap his hips into me, even though I was pushing on his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He growled as he grabbed my arm and jerked it above my head, slamming into me faster. I was whimpering, crying mess underneath him. He continued to pound into me, hitting my cervix, lips taking what they wanted from my lips down to my breasts.

“I’ll have you forgetting Maybank after tonight and you’ll only want my cock in this pussy. You’re mine now, Sunshine” he rasped in my ear.

“I hate you” I hissed at him.

Eventually the pain began to be replaced by pleasure, my cries turning into moans as I felt my core heat up and the band began to tighten.

“You keep saying that, but your body doesn’t,” he taunted “you might be venomous, nonchalant, and a raging bitch to the rest of the world, but all you needed was a Daddy to tame that mouth and this pussy. Didn’t you?”

I ignored him, not wanting to agree with him. Suddenly I heard and then felt the smack across my face. I let out a shocked yelp and grabbed face with my free hand. My body betrayed and a rush of arousal coated his cock.

“Oh, you like being slapped huh? When I ask you a question, you answer it, slut” he hissed at me.

“Yes Daddy” I moaned out, before slapping my hand over my mouth, not believing what I just said.

“That’s my good little slut” he teased.

He let go of my hand and reached down with both hands to push my thighs into my chest. I cried out as the new position hit my G-spot and I saw stars. Within seconds, the band snapped in my stomach and I was screaming daddy repeatedly.

“That’s it, you little cunt, cum all over my cock.” He grunted before pulling out and flipping me over on my stomach. He straddled my thighs, pulled my butt up, and shoved himself back into me. I moaned as the new position let him hit deeper. I grabbed the headboard needing to ground myself, as the drugs and orgasm made me feel like I was floating away.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, putting me in a chokehold, snapping his hips into me at such an ungodly pace. I could already feel another release coming. The drugs had all my senses turned up to an eleven, the burning in my stomach, the tingling in my core, the pleasurable pain every time he hit my cervix. I felt that if I had another orgasm, I would fly off into outer space.

“S’too much, daddy” I whine, trying to push on his stomach. “I can’t do it”

He slapped my hand away and smacked my thigh hard, making me cry out.

“You will take everything I give you. You’re my little cum slut now and you will obey me” he grunted. He grabs my arm and jerks them around behind my back, grabbing both wrists with one hand. With his other hand, he grabs hair and uses both as leverage to fuck me harder.

All you could hear in the room were my ‘uh-uhs’ and our skin slapping together. I was close as my walls begin to flutter around his cock, but he was too as I felt his hips stutter.

“You better cum before me or you’re outta luck,” he panted. “We’re not here for your pleasure, only mine.” He taunts as he speeds up getting closer to his release.

I manage to wrestle one of my hands free and reach down to rub my clit. The added stimulation almost instantly makes me fall over the edge, I scream out and clamp down on Rafe’s dick. My body convulses as I have the strongest release of my life, but the E in my system causes me to keep cumming tears falling down my cheeks as I can’t stop.

“Jesus Fuck” Rafe gasps, “You’re clenching so tight I can barely move.”

He forces his cock in and out of me as he pants and grunts. Slamming into me one more time, I feel his seed shoot out against my walls.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hisses. He slowly thrust back into me a few times before pulling out and flip me over. I was essentially a rag doll by this point.

“Oops can’t have any Daddy’s juices spilling out can we?” he smirks, shoving two fingers in me pushing his cum back in me. I whimpered and grabbed his wrist.

“Stop, too sensitive” I whimper out.

“Stop being a whiny slut” he sneers before slapping my pussy a few times. I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. He reaches for his phone and takes a picture of me.

“What the fuck” I snap.

“I need something to jerk off to when you’re not around”

He shows me the picture. I look royally fucked out, mascara and tears running down my cheeks, lipstick smeared all over my face, bruises and hickeys around my neck and chest. He grabs my phone and tosses it to me.

“Unlock it” he demands.

I do without any argument. He puts his number on and sends himself a text, so that he has my number.

“When I call, I expect you to answer and come to me” he demands coldly. “If you don’t, then the whole island will know your just my cum slut and enjoy it. I have evidence.” he grins.

I nod, knowing he had me, because the thought of the pogues, especially JJ finding out made me sick to my stomach. He tossed my shorts and some tshirt he found to me.

“Now you’re gonna get dressed, go back to the party and act like nothing happened. Your hickeys were from some random touran.” He instructed. “The whole time you pine over JJ, my cum will be seeping out of your cunt. Oh, and clean your face up.”

I move slowly getting off the bed. I get dressed and head to the en suite bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and start to cry. I splash water on my face, cleaning myself up, the whole-time sobbing.

Rafe comes in the bathroom and stares at me for a minute. I turn to face him and he smacks me on the cheek, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to sting and leave his handprint.

“Stop crying like a cunt,” he mocked me, “You enjoyed it, I think I counted three orgasms from you?”

“It was the drugs” I argue.

“Sure, sure. The explain why you were soaked before I gave you the E?” he asked.

I’m looked away cause I had no answer, at least not one I was willing to admit.

“S’what I thought,” he smirked “Now get downstairs, before I change my mind and take you home, tie you up, and use you all night.”

I ran out of the bedroom and went downstairs, looking for my friends.

Walking around, I finally found John B and Sarah making out in a corner. Pope was in another room trying to woo a girl with coroner talk, the poor girl looked scared for her life. The last room I walked into, JJ and Kie were on a couch, Kie in JJ’s lap making out. My friends, wait no family, didn’t seem to have missed me.

I walked into the kitchen and made me a drink and walked outside to one of the patio chairs. My phone dinged with a message.

Remember our deal and no one finds out. Although with as worried as they were for you, not sure they would seem to care.

I downed my drink and got up to get another one, tears running down my cheeks.

How the fuck did I get in this situation and what was I gonna do. All knew was I hated Rafe Cameron and I would find a way out.

Tagging some moots:

@princessmaybank @echo-at-the-pond @babygorewhore @drudyslut @rafescokewhore @rafesc0kewh0re @starfxkr @blueicequeen19 @drewstarkeyslut @pankowperfection @maybankskiss @ch4rrykisses

[ohimsummer]

suguru and his puppyboy! satoru, who gets so, so lonely whenever suguru goes away. he waits faithfully by the door and, if too much time passes, eventually acts out in retaliation, whether it be by ransacking the pantry, chewing marks into the furniture, or ripping suguru’s clothes to shreds. anything that may deter suguru from leaving him for too long.

so, suguru decides to get satoru a gift: his own puppy! hybrid companion. he brings you home the very next day after satoru emptied out the pantry and got himself sick. no more of that (hopefully).

suguru pulls out the keys to the front door. he doesn't even need to give a call—satoru is pouncing on him as soon as the door opens, attracted by the jingle of his keys in the lock.

“suguuu!”, he yips, wrapping arms around suguru and nosing against his cheek. “i missed you so, so mu–“

he pauses. the new scent on his owner has satoru’s ears perked, tail stiff with apprehension, and head cocked to one side. and it’s then that he notices the pretty, new friend in front of him.

suguru leads you both to the living room, where he gestures towards the couch. satoru is quick to plop down on the cushions, dragging you with him, where he immediately puts his nose to work, holding you by the shoulders as he sniffs you from head to toe. he gives you a few licks seemingly at random, lingering in certain spots and his bushy, white tail gives a few tentative wags. you're similar, sniffing at any part of him your nose can reach, a curious tail also wagging behind you.

suguru keeps a watchful eye as his two puppies grow acquainted, ready to pull satoru away at the first sign of aggression, though thankfully there is none. he thinks it's safe enough to turn his back for a few minutes to go get a drink from the kitchen. when he leaves, you two are sniffing around each other's faces. he thinks satoru likes you. things are going well.

suguru realizes just how well things are going when he comes back to satoru mounting you already.

it takes a considerable amount of tugging at satoru's collar before suguru can separate you both. you have the nerve to look confused, sprawled out on the couch, wagging tail slowing to a stop, ears perked and head tilted. you look over through wide, puppy-dog eyes as you’re no longer caged between satoru’s arms. you're cute, suguru thinks. he's trying to get you acquainted with your new surroundings in a new home, and here you are ready to be acquainted with satoru's cock.

ever since the first incident, suguru can't leave the two of you alone for more than a minute. satoru takes every opportunity as a chance to breed you. most of the time, suguru can come back in time to catch him licking at you through your panties, or shoving your legs up to fold you in half. except that one time on your third day when satoru already had your panties ripped off and his tongue shoved between your folds. and suguru can tell from the way your tail wags, claws digging into the mattress, curious whines falling from your lips, that you don't have a single complaint.

suguru is pretty on top of things for the first few weeks. he didn’t want to heavily supervise the two of you like children, but he also knows that if he looks away for a second too long, he will end up with a pregnant hybrid and then an apartment full of puppies.

though, despite his precautions, suguru was not careful enough.

it was just a quick trip to the store, he wasn't even gone for more than fifteen minutes. you two are in a different position than when he left, but satoru is fidgety and cuddly anyway so that doesn't ring any alarm bells. everything looks as it should. surely his satoru—the messy one who can barely move an inch after cumming—couldn't have bred you and then cleaned up everything to look normal in less than fifteen minutes?

"your puppy is doing well so far.", the vet tells suguru during what was supposed to be a routine checkup. "they should be expecting in a couple months."

he's confused. "uhm...expecting what...?"

she looks up from her clipboard, a curious brow raised. "...a litter? sir, your hybrid is pregnant."

and that’s how satoru is introduced to a chastity cage.

suguru’s intention was never to end up taking care of so many hybrids—not so soon, anyway. just you and satoru were more than enough. but now, things have changed: you’re expecting two little babies soon and it’s all because satoru couldn’t keep his urges in check. so, a few weeks before you’re due, suguru pulls out the cage he ordered.

it’s a tough battle—of course satoru doesn’t want those privileges revoked, but in the end, suguru pins him down and locks him in. it’s a punishment satoru will have to endure.

to be fair, it’s not 24/7. only when suguru knows he’ll be away, even if it’s a mere twenty minutes because apparently that’s more than enough time for satoru to finish what he can start.

and satoru despises it. he whines, he begs, he cries to suguru to please take the cage off, that he can behave this time around, that he won’t get you pregnant again ‘i swear!’. when that doesn’t work, he resorts to the silent treatment, though with how clingy and attention-driven he is, that of course results in failure a few days in.

it takes a year before suguru considers removing the cage for good. satoru is adamant that he can control himself around you better, and has even been on his best behavior since suguru put him in the chastity cage (besides a few incidents when you were in heat, but those were understandable for suguru).

with the cage now off, suguru finds himself lingering around a little longer before ever leaving satoru alone with you. but his worries seem to be in vain. satoru is busy caring for you and his pups, and showing suguru he can be fully trusted once more.

during heats or ruts, suguru locks satoru away again because it would be stupid not to, but otherwise, satoru remains a newly freed hybrid. sure, he’s extra, extra cuddly and he eats you out like his life depends on it, but there hasn’t been another surprise pregnancy (suguru made sure to get you checked at the vet multiple times for the first six months).

time flies by, and satoru remains an obedient hybrid. there were maybe a handful of times suguru had to stop him from going too far, but it was never so bad that he thought about putting satoru back in the chastity cage. it seemed there wouldn’t be another 'accident', and suguru eventually decides, after a few more months, that he doesn't need to watch you two as closely, anymore.

it is maybe a week after this decision that he comes home to loud moans and the wet sounds of skin on skin.

he follows the noise to the bedroom and discovers satoru bending you over, shoving your face into the sheets as he lets out a loud groan—evidently having came in you again for the nth time.

satoru yelps as he's yanked away by the collar, but the damage has been done. you're gushing cum down your legs, body trembling with exhaustion as you collapse into a heap, stuttering out breaths with fingers clinging onto the comforter.

your black-haired owner looks you over to make sure you're alright, before casting a dirty glare at the perpetrator with ready excuses on his tongue.

"listen, listen, it's not my fault, okay!", satoru huffs, ears folded back as he avoids suguru's stare. "i couldn't help myself, they smelled so sweet and it's been so longgg!"

suguru doesn't even care to listen. "once i'm done bathing them, you're going back in the cage."

a fuzzy, white tail droops in defeat. he doesn't even argue, but in satoru's head he thinks those final creampies were worth it.

🐶: @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @gigiiiiislife @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @panthrology @blkkizzat

[woso-dreamzzz]

Heart VI

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You like Patri's birds

It was sitting in a charity shop.

The camera that is.

It's an old camera, kind of battered from a life well used but still seemingly in working order.

Honestly, it's kind of retro and Mapi really likes the look of it.

She'd only been passing by, off to the shops to get Ingrid some chocolate and stock up on milk. She wasn't quite sure why she stopped to stare but she does.

It's sitting in a box with a roll of old photo film and a camera strap to wear around your neck.

She goes into the charity shop and buys the camera, a steal of ten euros with the roll of film and the strap included.

So, Mapi comes back to the house with Ingrid's chocolate, a pint of milk and a new camera.

"Hey, sunshine," Mapi says, patting the spot on the sofa next to her," Come here."

You sit with her happily and Mapi shows you the camera. She demonstrates how it works and shows you how it prints off the photo immediately like your more modern Polaroid.

"It'll take us a while to find some more film," Mapi tells you," But, here, I've got an idea. You've got maybe four or five pictures left. I want you to really think about what you like and what you want because what you take a picture of, me and Mama will buy it for you. Sound good?"

You nod.

"Good girl."

When Ingrid heard of Mapi's plan, she expected you to start taking pictures of everything right away.

You carry your new camera everywhere with you, the worn strap hanging around your neck.

But you don't take any pictures whatsoever.

You look like you want to but, with an impressive amount of control of a kid, you stop yourself.

You're waiting for something, Ingrid thinks.

You're good at waiting.

You waited for years for your Santa Heart. You can wait to take a picture too.

That's much easier than living in a hospital bed.

Your surgical site has healed up now, leaving only the sliver of a scar that Ingrid still finds herself compulsively checking over at bath time, just to check that nothing's changed with it.

Your check ups have decreased to once every three months now and you're coming along leaps and bounds.

"Patri!" Mapi calls out from the kitchen," Have you got anything kid friendly in here?"

Ingrid sits on Patri's sofa as the rest of the team mill around for team bonding.

Mapi had gone snooping in the kitchen immediately to get snacks for herself and you.

"Yeah, should be in the top cupboard!" Patri yells back.

She's much more preoccupied with bringing her two birds out of their cage to show you.

You're enamoured by them, oohing and aahing ever since you first saw them in the cage earlier.

"You need to be very careful with them," Patri tells you," They're nervous."

"They're pretty," You say," Pretty birds."

"Would you like to hold them?"

"Yes, please!"

These birds are the prettiest birds in the world. They're very sweet as they sit on your arms, making soft little chirping noises and demonstrating tricks for you to see.

It's hard to separate you from the birds for the rest of the day, completely enamoured by them and Patri seems both delighted and surprised that you love them so much.

They're all you talk about on the way home from team bonding and all you talk about during your bath and bedtime routine.

Ingrid's taken control of that for tonight as Mapi changes into her pyjamas and feeds Bagheera some treats.

"Mami?"

She turns with a smile.

"Have you come to say goodnight, sunshine?"

You nod. "Mama is choosing our story. She said I've got to say goodnight now."

Mapi crosses the room quickly, pulling you into a hug and kissing your cheek. "I love you."

"Love you," You echo, suddenly looking extremely nervous.

Mapi frowns. "What's up? Huh? What's wrong?"

"I...er...I...Mami I used my new camera."

"There's nothing wrong with that. That's what it's there for."

"No, I..." You nibble at your bottom lip. "I think I did it wrong. I took pictures of something you can't get me."

Mapi's frown only deepens and she kneels down to your height, hand going to rest on your cheek. "Why don't you show me?"

"I don't want you to be mad."

"How about this? I'm going to close my eyes and you can give me a picture and run off back to Mama and go to bed. We can discuss it tomorrow."

"Okay, Mami. Eyes closed."

The little Polaroids are placed into Mapi's hands and she waits until your footsteps have gone silent to open them again.

"Oh, sunshine," Mapi says to herself.

All five pictures are of the same thing.

Patri's birds.

One of them in their cage.

One of them pressed up against the bars.

One of them on Patri's head.

One of them on your arm.

One of them of you and them cuddled up together.

Ingrid inspects them that evening.

"I don't know what to do!" Mapi exclaims in bed, head resting on Ingrid's chest," She really liked Patri's birds and I told her that whatever she photographed she could have! But she seemed so nervous like she didn't even want to ask!"

"Mapi," Ingrid says," She was nervous because she thinks we won't want to buy her birds. You told her just last week that cats don't like birds and we do have Bagheera."

"Bagheera's lazy," Mapi replies," She won't care about birds."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"I...I don't really know. Are you okay with us having birds?"

Ingrid smiles, cheeks going slightly red. "I was already looking for cages."

It's been weeks since you first met Patri's birds and you're just as obsessed with them are you first were when you met them.

Patri seems to love it, endlessly bragging and showing off new pictures to you that you suitably coo over and secretly wish you had a pair of your own.

But you don't push Mama and Mami on it.

Bagheera is a cat and cats don't like birds. It says so in your storybook so you wish for birds secretly and clip the pictures you took of Patri's onto the soft fairy lights that hang around your room.

You wish you had birds of your own but that'll be something that happens when you're an adult like how Mami and Mama are adults and have Bagheera.

Ingrid holds you up on her hip as she walks from the elevator to the front door, easily carrying you, the shopping and unlocking the door all at the same time.

"Tia Ale wants a baby," You tell Ingrid," She told me so."

"That's because you're just so cute," Ingrid replies, fluttering kisses all over your cheeks," Alexia's got baby fever."

"But I'm not a baby."

"You're my baby," Ingrid declares," Mine and Mami's baby."

You giggle, the kisses tickling you.

"Now," Ingrid says, setting you down," Mami has a surprise for you in your bedroom, okay? You have to be very quiet and very responsible. Can you do that for me?"

You nod. "I can."

Ingrid gives you one last kiss on the cheek. "I knew you would be. Why don't you head in to see Mami?"

Mapi is standing by your bedroom door, giving you her customary kiss and cuddle before opening your bedroom door.

By the foot of your bed is a big cage with a blanket over it.

You gasp.

"Mami-?"

Mapi nods.

"I told you I'd get what you photographed. Do you want to meet your new birds, sunshine?"

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

near the start of the essay ooooough this hits hard

(edit) a few more things i wanted to pull out:

(alt text in image description)

basically, supporting trans people means supporting trans men and that means you have to shift your paradigm to fit men into feminism. there's not an alternative

Is there a term for that phenomenon that happens when people tell transmen/transmascs not to go on testosterone/not to try to look more masculine because it'll make them ugly/fat/hairy/bald/whatever negative thing?

I know it's not transmisandry, but does it have a name or is it just general transphobia?

I mean surely that's not NOT transphobia? but I'm also not, like, in charge of how transmasculine people talk about stuff so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

i swear, as i'm writing for chapter 5 for again &. again, i realize just how truly fucked up the comfort scene with jason and the reader will go through because one thought his death was neglected, whilst the other suffers through the consequences of their father's neglect because that same father cared too much for his second child to even notice the one that came after him.

and both siblings will slowly come to realize that and display different reactions. jason's too desperate to keep you close to him from now on because he can't afford having you go through anymore pain despite it being too late, despite you having long since slipped out of his grasp. his sweet angel has grown up too soon and too early, and he always wanted to be an older brother, now look at you—!

you're crying, in his arms, yet you're pushing him away at the same time. but you're too unstable, too hurt and in so much pain— you're going through the same lapse of breakdowns as him. he sees himself in you, and sees a broken child who wants nothing but comfort all throughout. you cry and tell him that you fear him, him and his guns and metal helmet, he's not your brother, you say, yet your head lays atop his jacket stained with your tears and you beg him to never mention this moment of weakness to your family.

how could he not protect you after all this? how could he let you go so easily after everything you've spilled? every secret, every confession— how could he not?

even if you tell him he's not family anymore, even if you tell him to treat you like every other gothamite he saves from crime, even if you pull yourself away just as quickly from his tightening hold; he couldn't just leave you be.

not when you're all broken because of him.

but you don't want his care, not anymore. you've long since given up on any sliver of love from your family that you're convinced he's simply doing this out of wishing to repair whatever relationship he has with you. you cried because you're at your limits, but you don't want his comfort, you don't want any of your family's, you simply did with him because he was the only one available, that's solely it.

but will he understand? no.

even if he takes you back to a location a few blocks away from your apartment, ensuring that he wouldn't follow you for the sake of your privacy (hah! as if), even if he promises you that he'll keep your meeting with each other a secret from everyone else, even if he wants to so badly come running to you to watch over his angel for the night— he needs to plan things, he needs some time to think for himself, on how to convince you to at least - if you refuse to reconnect with others, which he understands - trust him, and only him.

and if it weren't for bruce calling him through comms after watching your form slowly disappear into the distance, shoulders and torso cold from the absence of your body after just some minutes, with his jacket still damp from your tears and his thoughts running ablaze— he swore, he could've gone insane.

— i hope u guys don't mind me rambling rather than posting something longer. sometimes, my mind functions way too fast and i have to capture the opportunity to write something out whilst the thought is still fresh in my mind. i do hope the excitement and love for my series doesn't die down anytime sooner because of the amount of delays. and ofc, doing this all because jason todd appreciation !!

[petew21-blog]

Mike Thurston

Mike:"Hi, Cobra. I'm Mike Thurston. Your gym instructor. I understand it's your very first time in the gym, am I right?"

Cobra:"Hey, Nice to meet you. Not really a first time, but I was never consistent with my routine."

Mike:"I can see that. Let's get to it to change that, ok? The locker room is on the other side of the gym. We're the first ones here today and probably will be until 8 so at least we won't have to worry about anybody else."

Cobra:"Great. I'll go get changed then."

Mike was stretching and picking out the music for later on. Cobra emerged from the lockerooms.

Mike:"Are you ready, man?"

Cobra:"Yeah, yeah. Let's do it."

Mike:"That's the spirit. Ok, I'll walk you through it and every time before you try out the machine, I'll show you how to use it properly. We'll start with stair climbing first as a warm up."

After 20 minutes, Mike was barely sweaty while Cobra was sweating. Cobra stepped off the stairs to get his drink. Mike didn't pay attention to him, focused on his goal.

After a while Mike stepped off. "Too much?"

Cobra:"Nah. I just get tired quickly. I'll be ok in a while." Cobra handed Mike his bottle. "Here."

Mike smile and grabbed it:"Thanks, man." Mike took a big sip.

They walked over to another machine, but Mike noticed that his vision was suddenly blurry.

Cobra:"You ok, man?"

Mike:"Yeah, a bit dizzy. I'll just sit down for a moment. I don't know what's happening to me."

Cobra:"Must be your protein drink I spiked before."

Mike looked back at Cobra shocked. "What? The fuck man? I'm calling the police." he tried to reach his phone, but was too dizzy to do so. Cobra took away his phone and placed it far form him.

Cobra:"I don't think so, man. You should go to sleep to speed this up. I'm getting excited just by looking at you."

And then Mike closed his eyes afraid of what was about to happen to him.

Mike opened his eyes. Ok, good. He's alive. That fucker didn't kill him. One good thing. His ass didn't hurt, so hopefully the guy didn't do anything to him. Mike turned around. He was sitting alone in the gym, no one in sight. He thought of calling out, but he didn't know where Cobra was. But then it happened. He noticed the mirror. He got close. The reflection. "How...what..." Cobra's reflection said as these words escaped his mouth. He was in that fucker's body. Why would he do that? How would he do that? He noticed his slender body, his well-earned physique was gone. Where was his body now?

This question was about ot be answered as his body emerged from the lockers.

His body called out at him in glee. "Hey, COBRA. What's uppp?"

Mike:"The fuck are you doing with my body?"

Cobra:"Ok, calm down. I had to take a leak. Or... your body had too. Haha. And I have to say, man. Pretty nice cock. I wouldn't have expected you to shave EVERYWHERE, but I guess that's what you guys do."

Mike:"Give me my body back you fucker or I...!!!"

Cobra:"Or what? You gonna beat me up? With that body? I don't think so. Or you're gonna call the police? Right. Who's gonna believe you?"

Mike:"You can't do this. It's not right."

Cobra:"I say it's not right to charge people such amounts of money for not even helping them out, but that's on you."

Mike:"I'll give you anything, man."

Cobra:"Anything? Leave me your body then. Haha."

Mike:"Anything but that. I work on my body all the time. I have nothing without it. I am nothing. Please, I'm begging you."

Cobra:"Eh, well... since you're begging, I'll at least enjoy the body in front of you, so you'll know how much we hate YOU guys that shove it to our faces. Sit here."

Cobra streightened in front of Mike and started the exploration of his body.

Cobra:"It's freaking amazing to have all the knowledge of the muscles and workout. It must have taken you years to know this. Ok, let's see what we got here. Ooooh. Deltoids." Cobra rolled his shoulders. "So tight. And wide. Very nice." He flexed his biceps. "Biceps brachii. Very impressive, Mike. And those triceps. Damn."

Mike quietly:"Thanks..."

Cobra moved on to his chest. "God damn these pecks. Sorry. Pectoralis major. Gotta be strict about these terms now" he flexed them and watched how they contracted and bulged forward. A creepy grin appeared on his face. His hands travelled to his abs. He moved over all his defined six pack. "The core strength is unbelievable. And what a cheese grater. Ok, moving on, rectus abdominis" he turned and flexed "And let's not forget external obliques. Shit. You have got a really great body, man."

Cobra took off his sweatpants and flexed his legs. "Fuuuuck. So bulging. I love these quadriceps, man. And even knowing their names is so hot. Vastus lateralis, intermedius and medialis, rectus femoris. Fricking amazing."

Mike:"Ehm... you... don't forget hamstrings."

Cobra looked at Mike and smiled. "Don't rush me, man. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want me to rush it. Chill or I'll keep this body."

Mike's face was pale now, but he stayed quiet.

Cobra took off his boxers

Mike stood up:"Dude, stop. That's too much."

Cobra:"Gotta appreciate it fully. Sit back down or we're staying like this."

Mike sat down again and watched as his body was naked flexing and enjoying himself.

Cobra|:"Let's not forget the most important muscle." he took the dick in his hand. Mike was ready to say something again, but Cobra stared him down with a dominating look. Mike just sat there as his body was stroking his dick. Now fully aroused, Cobra started moaning.

Mike:"Please, Cobra, please. Let's swap back. I want my body."

Cobra:"Not yet."

Mike:"Why? What do I have to do to get my body back?"

Cobra:"I'm glad you asked. You let me fuck my body and I give you your body back."

Mike:"You can't be serious."

Cobra:"You want your body back or no?"

Mike:"Yeah..."

Cobra:"Take your clothes off."

Mike got up and took off his shirt, his shorts and shoes. Standing only in Cobra's briefs.

Cobra:"What are you waiting for?"

Mike:"I'm not gay, man."

Cobra:"It's not gay, if you're fucking yourself. It's like masturbation."

Cobra leaned in and kissed his old body. "Man, I kinda envy you. It must be so hot to his your body." he noticed the tent forming in his briefs. "See, you're not gay, but my body certainly is. So let's enjoy it."

Cobra grabbed Mike's hand and dragged him to the showers. He turned on the water grabbed Mike's head and forced him on his knees. Mike instinctively took Cobra's hard dick and started to jerk it.

Cobra:"Don't be shy, lick it."

Mike took it in his mouth. He never sucked a dick before, so the taste was definitely something new. It might have been the body he was in, but he was a bit into it.

As water rushed over their bodies, Cobra couldn't wait any longer.

Cobra:"Pulled him up and kissed him. Let's fuck!"

He picked him up and held him above his waist. Mike's body was so strong and Cobra so slim, that it wasn't an issue. Cobra pushed his dick inside of him.

Mike:"Slow down, please."

Cobra:"NO"

He pounded more and more. Both of them moaning in pleasure. Cobra was laughing out loud. The cum filled Cobra's old body. They rested in the same position, Mike's dick still in Cobra's ass.

Cobra laughed

Mike:"What's so funny."

Cobra:"I can't believe you let me fuck you"

Mike:"You said that you would give me back my body if I did."

Cobra:"Yeah. Hahaha. So I lied. This is your body now for the rest of your life."

Cobra pulled out of Mike and set him on the floor. He washed his dick and with laughter left the showers. Mike, still naked and wet, followed him to the lockers.

Cobra:"What? You didn't understand something?"

Mike:"You stole my body."

Cobra:"Clever boy. See, you're not that stupid as I thought. And you're not bad to fuck. I could keep you as my cum dump, but I might be more into pussy now so we'll see about that."

Mike was still in the middle of the lockers as Cobra put on his new clothes.

Someone entered the locker room

Guy:"Hey, Mike. Who's the naked dude?"

Mike:"Hey, don't worry about him, he's weird, but harmless."

Guy:"You done for today?"

Mike:"Yeah, but I might come tomorrow."

Guy:"Ok, see you tomorrow then, man"

Mike was speechless. Not only his body was stolen, but it seemed, that he was gonna be pretty good at pretending to be him.

Cobra:"I hope you enjoyed your first time in the gym, COBRA”

A story request by @cobraas-blog

And a late happy birthday, man! xD

Hey! Your stories are amazing. Can I request a story? It's my birthday today and I would like to swap bodies with Mike Thurston. While he beg to swap back, the swap become permanent when I fvck him in my old body. Thank you!

[sukunasteeth]

Wrestle Me

Tokyo had reached record temperatures that day. The sun was roasting the city, every street was a mirage from the bending light of its shine. The weather recently had been sending everyone either inside or to the nearest water source.

Yuji had gone to the beach with Megumi and Nobara in a futile attempt to escape the heat that had Japan in the sweaty palm of its hand. They had offered you and Sukuna a spot on the railway car there, but you knew that Sukuna was too exhausted from his recent missions to do any sort of going out. Not to mention the draining effect of the heat stacked on top of that. You were in the mood to just enjoy each other's presence.

The two of you were sheltered away in the darkness of his bedroom, lying sprawled out across the floor in front of his small rotating fan. Sukuna and Yuji never turned the A/C on. Since they had moved into their own apartment, the brothers had become rather stingy when it came to the bills. The air didn't start up until the room felt like a sauna, and it turned off much too soon to give relief.

Sweat continued to drip down the both of your spines, but Sukuna didn't seem to mind it. He was enjoying the peace of his day off, dressed against the heat in nothing but his boxer briefs and a tank top. He had his head resting in the cushion of your lap, his eyes were transfixed on an old leather notebook that he had stolen from one of the professors a few days ago. It was in a language you hadn't taken at the academy yet, but Sukuna tells you it was early notes on jujutsu from the old world.

You had been scrolling through your phone, occasionally showing him something you found amusing or anything that reminded you of him. He only gave you a reaction to maybe 10% of the material, but it was fun to see him roll his eyes, or scoff and wave your phone away.

The longer you remained in the same spot,however, the sweatier you felt and the more frustrated with the heat. You tried not to squirm under Sukuna's head, remaining as still as possible as though he were a sleeping animal taking refuge on your lap. Boredom, however, eventually pulls the last straw that has you stirring.

An idea comes to mind.

Sukuna glances up at you, as though he expects you to show him something else on your phone, but instead his attention is caught by the mischievous glint you feel twinkling in your eye.

"Wrestle me." You beam at him.

It was somewhat of a joke.

Compared to your boyfriend, it was clear who would win in a pinning tournament between the two of you.

 Sukuna, who enjoys kickboxing in his spare time. Sukuna, who has never missed an opportunity for a fight in the decade that you've known him, who could dead-lift your torso with ease if he so desired.

Sukuna, who has never touched you with anything but heart wrenching gentleness.

His eyes widen at your command, the notebook he had previously found so interesting has been completely forgotten. He seems to catch the drift of your lack of entertainment, and quickly plays along. His surprise melts into an amused little smile.

"Oh yeah? Think you got a chance, kid?" He taunts, placing the book beside him. His attention now fully focused on you.

You snort, you were only a year younger than he was, but he loved to emphasize it when he could. Sukuna mistakes your noise as a scoff and cocks a daring brow at you.

You love when he’s in a playful mood.

"I could take you any day." You tease. Part of you is running for the hills inside, but another part is having fun with the big bad wolf. That was the constant state you were in with him. Sukuna didn't even have to try and he always had your heart racing.

Sukuna makes an impressed noise, "That, I'm well aware of. I don't know about in a fight, though."

You groan at his joke, shaking your head in disappointment, but Sukuna grabs onto your chin before you can get even one turn of your head out.

"Let's find out."  

~

Ten minutes later, you're drenched in twice the amount of sweat as you were before, but Sukuna has barely lost a drop. He's got you twisted like a pretzel beneath him, holding your limbs in just the right way so that you're completely incapacitated in his hands.

Your first mistake was thinking Sukuna knew how to play-fight. The only person he had been remotely close with in your childhood was his twin brother, and the two of them had often "wrestled", but it only ended when one of them had blood dripping out of their noses. You learned early on not to question it. Having two boys as your childhood best friends had you turning your gaze from a lot of things, in fact.

The only thing you questioned now, was how you were going to get out of your current predicament. You were sure Sukuna was having a blast practically hogtying you with his hands, and now he knew how easy it was to get you in this position. It was a double whammy that would surely effect you in the future. 

"Did you really think I'd go easy on you?" The weight of his chest presses into your back as he leans over you, sending hot breath over your neck. "How cute."

"Okay, okay! I give!" You whine, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. You had to admit that it was getting slightly painful, but Sukuna was well aware of your pressure points and where to stay away from. You still had one last trick up your sleeve, however.

Satisfied with your surrender, he nips at your ear with his teeth before he slides off of you and relinquishes his effortless grip. Before he can fully turn away, however, you're leaping onto his back like a monkey and tackling him into his mattress. It was a dirty tactic, but you had been wrestling your childhood best friend Yuji since the two of you were in elementary school, so you were no stranger to tricks of the trade. Especially the feign defeat card.

He blinks up at you. It was a difficult task to take Sukuna off guard, but you had accomplished it.

"Sucker." You playfully stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Inside your chest, your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s almost like Sukuna knows this, because even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s still looking at you with an amused grin- unaffected by your change of position. 

"You have a higher pain tolerance than I thought you did." He notes, tilting his head to the side like he's considering something. "What can we do with that new information, I wonder?" 

It was another intimidation tactic. A good one. It had chills running down your spine. But, you weren’t going to let him win so easily this time. Suddenly, you were interested in how far you could push him, as well. 

"Come on 'Kuna," You chide, your nose is practically touching his- a rabbit pressing against the snout of a hungry wolf. "Can't take defeat, my love?"

"Oh doll," His voice is a husky drawl, rough hands slide their way from their resting places on your hips to slip under the hem of your shirt and brush the skin of your waist. You try to contain your shiver. "You're playing a very dangerous game."

One last wave of confidence sweeps through you as you lean down, just like he always did, to murmur lowly into his ear. "And you're losing."

That did it.

Sukuna grabs onto your waist so quickly, you barely have time to register it before he loops his leg around your knee and easily flips the two of you back to your original position. You're giggling beneath him as he gathers your face into his hands, pressing calloused fingers into your cheeks. You've gotten under his impenetrable skin. You didn't know it, but you always did.

No matter how strong a man is, he will always lose to the woman he loves.

Sukuna was slowly starting to accept that.

[beatcroc]

200

aka ''who do you play in ringracers'' well, 1, the whole fucking roster at once, 2, every most extreme/polarized/minmaxed edge of the stat layouts, and 3, mecha sonic specifically.

everybody give it up for 100 hours of ringracers