#and charged me $350 to do so

[italianodamiano]

beth go see a specialist and don’t cry afterward challenge

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Pairing: Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader Words Count: 4,200 Summary: After getting his heart broken, Marcus Pike takes an assignment in Amsterdam. What started as an exploration of the red light district turns into choosing you, the most beautiful art he's ever seen. Warnings: sex work, erotic dancing, hand job, masturbation, fingering, oral (m receiving), reader wears makeup and a dress, marcus tries to escape his heartbreak, van gogh mentions, reader is college aged, dieter bravo exists in this universe

A/N: This was written for @baronessvonglitter's Fuck-tober birthday celebration. I was assigned Marcus Pike and "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett. Happy birthday Adriana!!! 💕

Here are the songs I refer to in the fic: “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett “Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter “Streets” by Doja Cat “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande “Cinema” by Harry Styles “The Night Me and Your Mama Met” by Childish Gambino Masterlist

---

Marcus doesn’t do things like this. He’s a good man, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, and most of all, a good agent. And yet, he still walks down the cobblestone street that’s bathed in red lights.

LIVE SEX SHOW  SEX TOYS SEX PALACE HIGH TIMES

What in the world is he doing here? Curiosity, loneliness, being so fucking horny he can’t focus on the case ahead. You’re a good man he tells himself as he ventures deeper into the crimson alleys, the shadow of shame following closely behind him.  

“Hey handsome. Today’s your lucky day.” A blonde man winks, handing him a gilded envelope. “You’re invited to Galerij.” 

Marcus blinks down at the golden envelope, looking up to find the blonde stranger already gone from his sight. He opens the envelope, revealing a simple invitation with gold embossed text. 

Galerij, Amsterdam’s hottest art pieces. €400

He’s a damn FBI agent, and yet he’s too intrigued and desperate for a distraction to say no. He should know better, his badge weighs heavily in his pocket. He plugs the address into his phone with a sigh and makes the quick walk to the address listed, silently atoning for his sins as he passes the Oude Kerk church. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with any of the police officers situated, they might sense his shame. 

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice intones. He looks up at the plain brick row home that stands out amongst the surrounding buildings covered in neon lights with windows full of girls in different levels of undress. 

A small gold sign hangs above the unassuming black door. GALERIJ

He inhales deeply and pushes the door open. A bell jingles. Inside, an older looking woman with slicked-back blonde hair and a sharp black suit sits behind a desk. 

“Nederlands or English?” she asks, her tone clipped.

“English,” he answers, his throat tight. “Please.”

“Invitation?”

“Oh, uh, here,” he hands her the invitation. 

Without any more acknowledgment, she gestures to a black leather chair near an intricately carved golden door. “Please take a seat.”

A bit of trepidation blooms within him as he sits down, but when he looks around, he realizes that this isn’t some seedy back-alley brothel. It can’t be that bad if the walls are covered in mahogany and the floor is marble. 

The woman makes a quick phone call, speaking in a hushed voice. His palms grow sweaty. What the hell is he doing? This was supposed to be a quick exploration of something that’s always fascinated him… legal vices. Yet now, he's gripping the armrests as the same stern woman brings over a clipboard and card machine. 

“Cash or charge?” 

“Oh, cash?” he replies quickly, fumbling for his wallet. There’s no way he’s going to use a credit card around here, too many chances of his secret adventure getting revealed on a statement. 

“400 euros.” 

He opens his wallet and unfolds his money. 100, what are you doing? 200, what are you doing? 300, Marcus, seriously, what are you doing? 350, no seriously what are you doing? 400, damn, you’re really doing it. 

Stern woman takes the money and hands him a gold pin with a simple G etched onto it. She hits a small gold bell on her desk, a singular ring sharply echoes across the small room. 

He pins the pin to his chest, reminding him of all the times he used to pin the old Met Museum badge to his lapel when he was a young college student in New York. This is so much more different than that, he reminds himself. 

The golden door opens after a moment. 

A beautiful older woman in a dark burgundy skirt and matching jacket walks out with a smile lifting her dark red lips. 

“Welcome to Galerij. I am Maud, the curator.” she greets, offering her hand. “What would you like us to call you here?”

He rises and shakes her hand. 

Can’t do Marcus, can’t do Pike, can’t do Agent. He thinks of that one actor everyone tells him he looks like. “Uh–Bravo.” 

“Very well, Bravo,” she opens the door, moving aside allowing him to walk through. “Welcome to Galerij.”

He steps into a stark white room. The floor is shiny concrete, a singular white table with two white wishbone chairs sit in the middle of the room, a stark contrast to the entrance room on the other side of the wall. Not exactly what he was expecting. The agent in him can’t help but think this would be a perfect place to kill somebody. 

Maud motions for him to sit across from her. “Here you will make your decision on what piece you’d like. Gay or straight?”

He sits down, her question is a reminder as to why he’s really here. “Straight,” he answers, his nerves beginning to creep around him. 

She nods. “All of our pieces are tested, clean, and practice safe sex. Your piece will tell you what they will and won’t do once you make your choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“You will have twenty minutes, your time will start once you enter your gallery. A bell will ring every five minutes, your final bell will ring twice symbolizing your last five minutes. Do not be late. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course no photos or recordings. We ask you to not even have your phone out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I am,” he answers. His heart is pounding. 

She nods and presses a button, a shrill buzz echoes through the room. A hidden door opens and a large muscle and tattoo clad man with buzzed black hair and a nose ring walks out carrying a red velvet-covered book. He hands it to Maud, before standing behind her like a silent guardian.

His heart races faster than he ever thought it could when she  opens the book and pushes it towards him. 

GALERIJ with the day's date is stamped on the thick page. 

His fingers tremble as he flips to the first page revealing a photo of an olive skinned and brown haired woman clad in dark blue lingerie with delicate yellow stars embroidered all over it lying on top of swirled silky blue sheets. She’s absolutely stunning.

“This is The Starry Night.”

He nods, turning the page. 

A pale skinned, petite woman with shockingly white blonde hair wears a light blue bra and lace panties while laying atop white flower petals. She’s just as beautiful as the first woman. 

“This is Almond Blossom.” 

He turns the page. 

A dark skinned, dark haired woman sits against a yellow wall wearing two sunflower blooms over her ample chest. Her smile is wide, just like her eyes lined with bright gold glitter. She’s gorgeous 

“This is Sunflowers.”

They all look like they just walked off the runway, all beautiful and alluring. He wonders what–or who–the next piece will be. He smiles to himself when he realizes they’re all named after Van Gogh. Of course he’d find himself in an art themed brothel… he just can’t escape work. 

“Before you see my fourth piece, please know she’s a little different. You cannot touch her, only watch. Don’t let that sway your decision, she is our most popular piece.” 

He braces himself as he turns the page. 

He loses his breath when he sees you. There you are, sitting cross-legged against the same color wall as Sunflowers. He can just see a glimpse of your nipples under your sheer indigo bra. Your green lined eyes leer at the camera. He thanks all the stars in Starry Night for his chance to even get a look at you. He’s lost in time at how your skin glows against the golden wall. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. 

“I believe you made your decision,” Maud says with a knowing smile. “This is Irises.” 

“Yes,” Marcus swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Irises please.”

She nods and closes the book. “Pieter, let Irises know.”

“Okay Bravo,” Maud says with a smile and stands. “Pieter will come and get you when Irises is ready. Please do enjoy my gallery.” 

“Thank you Maud,” he says, wiping his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans. 

The fading sound of Maud and Pieter’s steps and a door closing leaves him all alone in the sparse room.

He hopes he looks good enough for you. His dark blue jeans are presentable enough, his plain gray v neck is clean, he thanks himself for spritzing himself with a dash of cologne before leaving his hotel. He knows he paid the equivalent of close to $450 for you to like him, but he still wants to impress you. 

He checks his watch, five minutes have passed. He’s too afraid to bring his phone out, so he just stares forward, nervously tapping his foot.

This wasn’t his plan at all, he was just going to explore and sightsee, nothing more. No drugs, no sex, just curiosity. 

The door opens. Pieter appears. 

“Irises is ready,” he announces, his accent thick. “Follow me.”

He tentatively trails Pieter through the door walking down a hallway lined with doors. Ornate golden frames hang with Van Gogh pieces in each one. They reach the door with Irises hung next to it.

“Twenty minutes,” Pieter says flatly, opening the door. “Sit in the chair. Do not touch. You watch.”

Marcus nods, his heart slamming against his chest. His knees almost buckle as he steps inside the room. 

It’s dark, save for a single spotlight shining down on a small stage, a lone purple velvet high back chair sits waiting for him in the middle of it. His shaky legs take him up the three steps before he lowers into it, hands clenching the wide armrests, trying to control his breathing. 

He shouldn't be here–-he knows that. It’s too late for regrets now.

The click-clack of your heels echoes through the room when you step onto the stage. He’s too nervous to turn his head to see you. His body tenses, anticipation coiling all of his muscles tight. When you finally step in front of him, he has to remind himself to breathe.

You’re beautiful, the light catches on the sheer fabric of your dress. He can just make out the curves of your body, naked under light lavender chiffon. Your eyes are lined with deep purple eyeliner, ending into a cat eye at the corners. Your ruby red lips curl up into a knowing smile, almost as if you can see his desire for you. 

Four thousand miles away from home and he’s just found the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. His cock begins to thicken, the shame of his paid for voyeurism adventure dissolving from his mind. You’re finer than any masterpiece he’s ever had to investigate. 

“Hi Bravo,” you purr, your voice smooth and teasing, “Do you wanna touch me?” 

He nods and coughs nervously. “Y-yes. But, I can’t.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips. “Good boy.” 

His back tightens, a wave of heat flows down his spine and settles in his lap. For too long he’s disallowed himself from feeling this type of pleasure. Too busy, too sad, too heartbroken. What led him here feels like a blur. An exchange of glances, a subtle wink, an invitation. The black door, €400 out of his wallet, a white room, an open red velvet book, the long hallway, Irises. He allows himself to enjoy the experience just as you send him a wink.

You’re like his own little gallery show standing in front of him. A piece of art he doesn’t just want to see–but memorize.

—

You’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It really is the perfect side hustle to support yourself while finishing your art degree. You’ve been enamored with Van Gogh’s art since you were a child, a lifelong dream realized when you were accepted into the student exchange program at the University of Amsterdam. You made it possible, and now, working two nights a week in between coursework, you're making more than most of your friends earn in an entire week. Of course, only a select few know what you really mean when you say you work at a very exclusive gallery.

It’s a good job. Maud takes good care of you, vetting those who enter her establishment with her keen client recruiters on the streets. Pieter is always a buzz away, though you’ve never felt danger. Everyone needs an escape, some just agree to pay a premium for it. They call it the oldest profession for a reason. 

Bravo. He’s your last customer tonight, and they sure did save the best for last. You watched him approach on the security camera, a smile formed when you noticed how much he resembled your favorite actor, you had plans for him. His wide shoulders, broad body, thin beard, and perfect head of hair almost made you think it was him, if it wasn’t for his eyes flickering around the room nervously. There’s no way Dieter Bravo would be anxious in this type of situation. 

You press play on the stereo. A quick drumbeat starts, your steps keep tempo with it as you come back to stand in front of your client.

Turning around and bending over, your hips dance to the beat of the song as your hands roam along your curves, lifting your dress to give him a peek of your thighs and ass. A low groan rumbles behind you.

“Do you like what you see?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, moving your hands up and down your body.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his nervous eyes wide and plush lips parted. 

Those same nervous eyes watch as you bunch the fabric of your dress up and take it off, tossing it aside. He eyes you, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes exploring all of you like you’re a painting hanging in a gallery. 

You cup your breasts, feeling the velvety warmth of your skin beneath your fingers as the purple of your nail polish brushes against your hardened nipples. Slowly you tilt your head down and let a trail of spit fall to one nipple. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Mmph–mmhmm,” he groans, nervously shuffling in his seat. 

Bending forward and placing your hands on his knees gives him the perfect view of your breasts. A long sigh comes from him, his eyes planted on your tits. You like what you’re doing to him, you never start your dances off this close to a client, but you can’t resist him.

When your hands trail up to his thick thighs, the bulge of his pants makes your mouth water, tempting you to move towards it. Not yet.

Leaning closer, you nuzzle against the warmth of his neck. He smells delicious… like eucalyptus and maple syrup. His quickening breaths puff out against your hair. You taste his skin with your tongue, licking your way up to his ear.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask along with the song.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. 

Pulling away, you wink before turning your back to him and delicately sit atop his lap. Sinking down against his broad chest, the heat radiating off him burns hot against your back. The song changes just as you feel the poke of his erection against your ass.

A poppy beat soundtracks your movements as you grind yourself against the heft of him, falling back, placing your head against his wide chest. Reaching back, your hands tangle in his soft hair, humming sweetly along to the sound, letting a few lyrics slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you we’d really have good bed chem”

Your client follows directions very well, staying perfectly still, gripping the armrests so hard the golden skin around his knuckles turn white. You rub yourself against the rough fabric of his jeans, getting off on the quiet whimpers he leaves in your ear. 

RING. The fifteen minute bell rings.

“And I bet it’s even better than in my head”

You rise off his lap and bend over clasping your hands around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of your ass and dripping core. The song fades out, a deeper, sultrier drumbeat begins. 

“Like you, like you, ooh, I found it hard to find someone like you” 

Your body gently sways along to the slow, sultry beat, and when you flip your head back to glance at him, he lets a low groan out. Placing your hands on the floor, you walk them out ahead of you before you’re on all fours, spreading your legs wide to show him even more of your glistening pussy. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, settling on your stomach, snaking a hand between your wide spread legs. 

“Y-yes,” he huffs. 

“I know you do Bravo,” you tilt your hips up hovering them above the ground, “let me show you how I like it.”

Your middle finger enters your soaked entrance as your thumb gently dusts light circles against your clit. Your hips move in beat to the heavy rhythm of the song. 

“Oh god,” he pants, when you stick another finger in, the chair creaking underneath his tensity. 

RING. The ten minute bell rings.

Choreography, that’s the business term for what you’re doing. It’s all timed out, you hear these songs at least ten times every work day. Though you never sit on your clients as close as you did with Bravo, you never taste their skin like you did with Bravo. He deserves more than the same memorized steps, something better than the repetition you offer all of the others. 

The song changes, signaling you to start your new routine, you ignore the cue, rolling onto your back, arching slightly, your eyes meet his. His hands remain clamped on to the armrests, fingers digging into the velvet. He’s trembling with restraint, beads of sweat glistening on his skin. His erection swells, the tight fabric of his pants tenting. 

“Do you wanna touch me Bravo?”

“I do,” he whines, the lines of his neck straining as his head thuds against the back of the chair. 

“Okay, okay baby,” you sit up, turning to crawl towards him. Your eyes don’t leave his. 

“And I can be all the things you told me not to be

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing”

Kneeling on your knees in front of him, you unlock one of his clutched hands, moving it to the soft skin of your breast. 

“N-no touching I thought,” he stammers, his hand laying flat against your skin.

“I make my own rules, it’s okay Bravo,” you allow, grabbing his other hand and placing it on you.

He groans when he cups your breasts in his hands. You watch the tendons of his strong hand tense and release as he cups your breasts and massages them in his hold. He’s mesmerized by his movements, like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you. 

Your hand teases its way up his leg to the warmth of the apex of his thighs before gripping him, thick and hard underneath the constraints of his jeans. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

His words of adoration fall out of his mouth, eyes still locked on your tits covered by his hands. 

You unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as the choir sings God is a woman. 

The song changes.

“You got, you got the cinema”

Your eyes light at the sight of his cock, standing tall and thick, precum leaking from the engorged tip. It’s just as beautiful and wide as the rest of your client. 

Bravo lets out a garbled groan when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him along to the song. Up, down, up, down, the sexy beat soundtracking your movements. 

RING. RING. The five minute bell rings. Your client doesn’t seem to heed the warning, only focusing on his thumbs swiping back and forth against the peaks of your nipples and your hand stroking the smooth silk of his cock.

“Touch me Bravo,” you rise, lifting a foot up on the armrest, keeping hold of his pulsing dick in your hand. “Give me two of your fingers.” 

His eyes gaze down to your dripping cunt, watching himself as his hand sweeps down your body before parting your folds. 

You got, you got the cinema

You got, you got the cinema

Your hips undulate to the tempo of the song as he sticks two of his long, thick fingers into your heat. 

“God damn,” he mutters incredulously, “you’re so wet.”

The song changes. 

A steady and slow funky guitar plays along with a soulful choir. It’s soft and romantic, exactly what you like to close down your shows with. You’ve never ended a show like this, your hand wrapped around your client’s wide cock, and your pussy clenching around two of his thick fingers. His thumb begins sweeping back and forth against your clit, he may have found himself at a brothel in Amsterdam, but your client has done this before. Perfect movements, perfect angle, you stare down in reverie at the focus he holds, watching himself touch you. His adoration of your body heats your core, lighting an orgasm just as beautiful as the song that plays. 

“Fuck baby,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum.”

He blinks up to you, brown eyes staring intensely into yours when you bite your lip and send a gush of wet against his fingers. Your legs turn shaky, as your clit pulses against his thumb that blesses your sensitive bub with just the right amount of pressure. Moving his hand from between your thighs, he holds it up, marveling at the sight of your juices shining against his skin. You send him a smile as your leg drops to the floor, the rest of your body following, kneeling in front of him. He still stares at his hand, watching the strings of your orgasm stretch across his widely spread fingers. 

“Smear it on your cock for me,” you say, planting both hands on his thighs. 

He groans and nods before rubbing the remnants of your orgasm on his shaft. He shouts an indistinguishable sound when you lick a line up to his tip, tasting yourself and the salty tang of his precum. Your lips envelop the fat tip of him, sucking and slobbering your way down the thick length of him. 

The song ends, the playlist repeats. The same quick drumbeat of the first song plays loudly. 

You suck him to the beat, flicking your tongue against his tip with each “YEAH!” of the song.

RING. RING. RING. The final bells ring, signaling that your client should have left by now.

Bravo locks up. Your mouth unclasps from his cock.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “we have a word for–”

A heavy knock lands against the door. 

“Driehoek (triangle) Pieter! I’m good in here, thanks!”

Three rapid knocks–softer now–signal Pieter’s departure.

“You guys really have it all fig–oh god,” he moans, when you take his cock back into your mouth.  

His strong legs shake against your body as your cheeks hollow, taking him into your mouth faster and harder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. Drool leaks out of the sides of your mouth, your eyes stare up at him blinking back tears as he reaches the back of your throat. You don’t know if he’s ever allowed himself this much freedom, it feels like you’ve unlocked something deep within him with the way he’s snarling and grunting “Irises” over and over.

“G-gonna–yeah–yeah–cum,” he gasps, hips stuttering and chair creaking as he spills into your accepting mouth. 

Bravo, client. Bravo.

—

He can’t believe he just did that. He just–he–he just– came in the mouth of a complete stranger–nay–a prostitute. You told him you’ve never done something like that with a client as you tossed him a towel… and the funny thing is he actually believes you. 

You shuffle back into the see through lilac dress as he zips his jeans back up. You really are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even if your purple eyeliner is now streaked from the tears that sprung in your eyes from gagging on his cock. Wow, that did just happen. 

You leave a kiss against his cheek and open the door for him. Pieter escorts him out the back entrance with a knowing smile. 

He walks back to his hotel, a new man with a clearer mind. Marcus really doesn’t feel the shame he expected he would. He knows a fine piece of art, and you just might be the finest he’s ever seen. 

[aly4khq]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑/𝟑 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐰 𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 (𝐬𝐞𝐩!)

ꜱᴜᴍ: getting fucked from behind by the best men 💕💕

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: cowgirl, over a desk, butt grabbing (f!), teasing!zayne, professor!zayne,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 660 in total!

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: this was very lazy kinktober but thank you so much for supporting my first kinktober as a writer. i promise that next year will be better💕

↳ 𝚇𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚁: cowgirl, butt grabbing, praise, teasing. wc. 350

slowly but surely, you lowered your ass onto xavier's long dick, moving your pelvis in a circular motion to stimulus his already sensitive member. the hisses and moans escaping his mouth like no other. his own hands scrambling to find comfort and security in your hips, clenching the flesh there with an attempt to soothe his overworking muscles. "oh my...fuckkk—baby you're so good!...." he threw his head back in pleasure, his eyes closing due to the feeling. one of his hand went to the high curve of your butt, smoothing out the soft skin. the other one grasping onto your left cheek with possessiveness. "you're so fucking beautiful..."

meanwhile on top, you were holding onto the bedsheets, your back to xavier as you prepared your pussy to take him in. bouncing your ass up and down on his cock, slowly increasing the speed, you hissed. "ahh!...mhm..." your own eyes closed as you lowered your head, trying to concentrate on being the one in charge here. yet you were interrupted when a firm finger rubbed your pussy, randomly shifting in speeds— fast, then extremely slow, then fast then gentle. you were nearly fainting right there at the sudden shift in power.

"shhhitt! xavier, wait!—" your hands clenching the sheets tighter in your hands as you continued fuck him. wet, sloppy phlap!'s filling the room of already suffocating sex. the sounds of your ass meeting his crotch vibrated in between your ears, xavier's eyes staring at the ripples of your ass whenever you two met. his hands were itching to touch you, grabbing at your skin and caressing your hips. "you're so pretty..."

despite his absolutely stunning words, the harsh grab that travelled through your body made you squeal. his hand caressing the small fingerprints on your butt, his other hand roughly holding onto your ass cheek. "move for me baby," he whispered into your ear softly, moving his hands to your stomach and pulling you closer. "show me how that back of yours moves."

looking back at your work, you bouced with purpose onto his length, feeling the warmth of his body connecting with yours every few seconds. "ah-ah...mhm xavier..." you were obsessed, your head throwing back. xavier was in love with the ripples of your cute little ass bouncing against him, "ah...you're so beautiful..."

that night you both managed to tired yourself out, more him then you because you like teasing him.

↳ 𝚉𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴: over a desk, praise, professor!au, college student!reader. wc. 310

your body was bent in a way that you've become accustomed to, always over the professors desk after hours. your black pencil skirt was hitched up to your lower back, revealing your silky skin to the surgeon above you. the classroom silent other than the sounds of your loud moans and skin shaping agaisnt each other. "ah! hah! sir, please, slow down—"

hearing your dismissive tone, never out a hearty laugh, using his hands to bring your hips further from the desk and closer to his pounding hips. the impact sending you back down onto the desk after every thrust, your hands grasping the edges of the wooden desk. "it's okay, just relax daring, we'll be done in a second, be good for me."

you let out a long whine, nodding with the fatigue burning at your muscles, leaving you to rest onto the desk lie he had said for you to do. the side of your temple on the desk as you let him continue his amazing thrusts, his dick reaching all the way to the edge of your cervix. you let out a few cries at the feeling once more, his hands gently massaging your shoulders, down to the sides and the hips. "shhh...it's alright. you never knew how to take real dick huh? these silly boys nowadays can't get the job done."

you nodded, your head moving back to see his work being done on your body. your mouth forming an 'o' shape as he slammed into your backside. the overwhelming sensation making you moan out. "only you sir! only you— hah! shit only you..." your voice died out, your body squirming to try and run from his dick.

his hands dragged you back roughly, his voice slowly turning more dark. "now now, let's not start being disobedient huh? i don't want to teach you another lesson."

date made: 28-29/10/24

© aly4khq, do not plagiarise, copy or translate my work

[ragvas]

The Babysitter

You sit anxiously in your living room, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest. Life has been stressful recently, and after stumbling upon a peculiar service online, you found yourself curious enough to take the plunge. Titan Care, a company that promised to send a giantess caretaker. Craving something unique and outlandish, you decided to give it a try. Now, all you can do is wait.

As the clock strikes 7 PM, a firm knock echoes from your door. Your heart races as you stand, your palms sweaty, unsure of what to expect. Opening the door, you're greeted by the towering figure of Ava, your babysitter for the evening.

Ava stands an imposing 7' 11" (240 cm) tall, her presence immediately commanding your attention. She looks to be in her early 20s, her long, dark brown hair cascading down her back in gentle waves. Her dark brown eyes glint with amusement and confidence as she smiles down at you. Wearing a tight black top that hugs her voluptuous E-cup breasts and form-fitting leggings that accentuate her curvy hips, she exudes both femininity and power.

"Hey there cutie," she greets with a playful grin, her voice low and sultry. "I’ll be in charge of you tonight."

At 5' 11" (180 cm) yourself, you feel dwarfed by Ava's towering presence as she casually steps into your apartment, ducking slightly to avoid hitting her head on the doorframe. Her sheer size makes you feel small, and her confident aura makes her even more intimidating.

"Y-yeah, come on in," you stammer, trying to shake off the nerves. You hadn’t imagined your babysitter would be this tall… or this commanding.

Ava strides gracefully into the living room, her movements fluid despite her size. She surveys the room before turning her attention back to you, raising an eyebrow. "So, what exactly do you need me for tonight? You ordered a babysitter after all," she teases, folding her arms under her chest, causing her E-cup breasts to press together.

Your face heats up. "Well… I guess I just wanted some company," you admit, feeling sheepish.

Ava laughs softly, her voice rich and smooth. "Company, huh? Well, lucky for you, I’m great at that." She steps closer, her towering frame casting a shadow over you as she leans down. "But there’s something you should know about me," she whispers, her lips curving into a mischievous smile.

Before you can ask what, she means, Ava pulls down her leggings and top, revealing her enormous breasts. Straightening up, she stretches her arms, and suddenly, her body begins to glow. To your shock, she starts growing bigger...

Her already impressive height expands rapidly, her legs lengthening, her torso stretching, and her prominent E-cup breasts swelling larger. You stand frozen as Ava surpasses 9' 10" (300 cm), her breasts now F-cups swaying heavily as her towering figure fills the room.

"Surprised?" she asks with a playful smirk, hunched over slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling. "I told you I’d be in charge tonight." (Picture)

You gulp, your heart pounding. You expected a tall babysitter, but not one who could grow.

Ava, clearly enjoying your reaction, continues to expand. Her body stretches upwards once more, quickly reaching 11' 6" (350 cm), her G-cup breasts starting to leak milk as her curves grow more pronounced. The room feels impossibly small as she looms over you, her dominance undeniable.

Crouching down, she brings her face close to yours, her dark brown eyes gleaming with playful intent. "Don’t worry, I’m not done yet," she teases, her breath warm on your skin.

Your legs feel weak as Ava gently lifts you off the ground, cradling you in her arms. You feel like a child compared to her now G-cup, 11' 6" (350 cm) frame, your face inches from her chest as she holds you close.

"How about we make this night a little more interesting?" she suggests, her voice a seductive whisper. She presses you against her ample breasts, the soft flesh enveloping you. "I’m going to take good care of you, little one."

Before you can respond, Ava's body glows again, her growth even more dramatic. She shoots past 13' 2" (400 cm), her breasts expanding to H-cups. Her enormous frame nearly fills the entire room, her body dominating the space, yet her touch remains gentle.

"You seem a little thirsty," she says slyly, glancing down at you. Her breasts, swollen to full H-cups, leaking streams of sweet milk, and she gently presses your face closer to her massive nipple. "Let me help with that."

Your face flushes as Ava's nipple, large enough to spread your jaws wide, is pressed into your mouth. She cradles you, her enormous frame completely dwarfing you as she feeds you, the act both nurturing and utterly dominant.

"You’re mine now," Ava whispers, her voice filled with playful authority. "And I’m going to make sure you never forget this night."

Minutes pass as Ava's body continues to grow slowly while you eagerly suck her giant nipple, eventually reaching an unbelievable 14' 9" (450 cm) with J-cup breasts. Her presence overwhelms the room, her dominance absolute. You’re cradled in her arms, completely at her mercy, enveloped by her size, power, and warmth.

She gazes into your eyes, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Now that I have you right where I want you, let’s explore some fun together, shall we?" Her dark brown eyes sparkle with mischief.

With a gentle yet firm grip, Ava lowers you onto the couch, her J-cup breasts brushing against your face as she does so. She looms over you, her towering height making you feel vulnerable yet safe. "So, what would you like to do first?"

Your heart races as Ava's massive breasts hover over you, the warmth of her skin and the sweet scent of her milk making your mouth water. You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself. "I-I don't know," you murmur, feeling both nervous and curious about the power dynamics that have just shifted so dramatically in her favour. You gaze up at her, her dark brown eyes filled with a mix of amusement and challenge. "What do you usually do with the people you...uh, babysit?"

Ava laughs, her deep, sultry chuckle sending vibrations through the air. She lowers her face closer to yours, her warm breath fanning across your cheeks. "Oh, I do whatever they want, within reason," she says with a wink. "But since you’re not quite sure yet, let me introduce you to a few of my favourite games." Her grin widens as she reaches down with one of her giant hands and gently pinches your nose. "Hold your breath tiny," she orders playfully, and before you know it, your face is buried in her colossal cleavage. The softness and warmth engulf you as the scent of her skin fills your nostrils.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you find yourself face-first in Ava’s overwhelming cleavage. The warm, soft flesh surrounds your head, and you struggle to breathe, feeling a little smothered but also oddly comforted. You can feel the steady thump of her heartbeat against your cheek.

Ava's laughter echoes through the room, a rich, deep sound that seems to resonate in your very soul. Without warning, she starts to bounce her colossal J-cup breasts up and down, the weight of them pressing your face into the plush valley between them. Each bounce sends a jolt of pleasure through her, making her wetter and more aroused. Her nipples harden and leak more milk as she watches your expression, enjoying the power play. "How do you like that, little one?" she asks, her voice thick with amusement and desire.

You let out a muffled moan, the feeling of Ava's breasts bouncing against your face a strange mix of thrilling and overwhelming. You lift your arms and try to push them apart, the need to breathe overcoming the comfort of the warm embrace. "A-Ava, I can't breathe!" you squeak out, your voice muffled by her flesh.

Ava's eyes widen in mock surprise as she feels your struggling. She pauses, letting your face emerge from the sea of softness. "Oh, you want to come up for air?" she asks playfully. Her grin is infectious, and despite the odd situation, you can't help but smile. She gently lifts you by the waist with one hand, the other cupping your chin to tilt your face towards her. Her thumb brushes against your lower lip, a bead of milk still lingering there. "You're so cute when you're all flustered," she murmurs, leaning down to lick the milk off your mouth, her tongue long and warm. "Now, where were we?"

Your cheeks redden as Ava's tongue traces the outline of your mouth. Her touch sends a jolt of excitement through you, and you can't help but lean into it. "I-I guess we could watch a movie," you suggest, trying to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Ava smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "A movie, hmm?" she says, placing you back down on the couch. She reaches for the remote, her massive hand engulfing it. "But not just any movie," she adds, flipping through the channels with surprising deftness for someone of her size. She stops on a channel playing a film with a giantess theme, the screen showing a tiny man at the mercy of a giant woman's feet. "I think this one will be perfect for us tonight." She sits down, her body taking up most of the couch. "Get comfortable," she says, patting the cushion next to her.

You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement as you watch the giantess on the screen. It's eerily similar to your current situation, and the sight of Ava's colossal body beside you makes it all the more real. You scoot closer, leaning against her leg, feeling the warmth and firmness of her muscles beneath her skin.

Ava's eyes don't leave the screen as she feels your body press against her leg. She can't resist running her hand over the couch, her fingers grazing your shoulder lightly. "I see you're a fan of these types of films," she says with a knowing smile. "Well, I've got plenty more where that came from." She reaches down and strokes your hair gently, her touch soothing yet firm, sending tingles down your spine. "But for now, let's just watch and get cozy." As the movie plays, she shifts her leg slightly, allowing you to fit more snugly against her. The mass of her thigh is soft against your skin, and you can't help but feel the power and warmth emanating from her. The scene on the screen escalates, showing the giantess playing with the tiny man, and you find your gaze flickering between the TV and Ava's breasts

Her hand pauses in your hair, and you feel a slight tug as Ava tilts your head back. She catches you staring at her chest, your eyes wide and slightly glazed. She smirks, her cheeks flushing a little. "Like what you see?" she asks, her voice a seductive purr. Her breasts suddenly growing to K-cups, the weight of them making her lean back slightly to maintain balance. She cups one in her hand, lifts it, and lets it drop, watching your reaction as the milk spills out in a gentle cascade. "Looks like you're enjoying the show," she says, her voice teasing.

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. The sight of Ava's giant, leaking breasts is both mesmerizing and intimidating. The warmth of her leg against yours is comforting, but the thought of her overwhelming size keeps you on edge. "It's...it's pretty amazing," you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

Ava's eyes darken with desire as she watches you squirm under her gaze. Her hand, which was resting on her own thigh, begins to slide upward, tracing the curve of her waist. "I think it's about time we take this to the next level, don't you?" she whispers, her voice thick with need. Her hand reaches down, her fingers brushing against the side of your face, leaving a trail of electricity. She leans in, her breasts shifting and jiggling with the movement. "You're so adorable," she murmurs, her mouth so close to yours that you can feel the heat of her breath. "And I can't wait to see just how much you can handle." Without waiting for a response, she presses her lips to yours, her kiss demanding and passionate, her tongue slipping into your mouth to explore. Her other hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you firmly in place as she deepens the kiss.

Your heart thunders in your chest as Ava's soft, yet insistent, kiss takes you by surprise. You melt into it, your body responding instinctively to her dominance. Her tongue dances with yours, and the taste of her fills your mouth. You can feel your own desire growing, and you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her closer despite her immense size. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, and something else you can't quite name. As you break away for air, you gaze up at her, eyes wide with wonder and anticipation. "What's... what's the next level?" you ask, your voice a mix of nerves and eagerness.

With a predatory smile, Ava stands, her K-cup breasts swaying heavily, and you can't help but stare as she does. Her hand slides down her body, tracing the curves of her waist to the hem of her black panties. She steps out of them, revealing her bare pussy, already glistening with arousal. With a sudden surge of power, she grows to 16' 5" (500 cm), her breasts now M-cups, and the couch groans beneath her as she straddles your thighs. She reaches down, her fingers deftly unbuckling your pants and freeing your erection. "This," she says, her voice a low growl as she positions her massive, round ass over your cock. She lowers herself onto you, her sofa-sized cheeks enveloping you completely, her weight pressing down with surprising gentleness. She starts to bounce, her movements gaining speed and power as she takes you deep within her, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies. Her ass jiggles like gelatine, and you can feel the warmth and softness of her flesh as she uses your body to satisfy her giant needs. "How's that for the next level?" she asks, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

You gasp as Ava's massive body settles onto you, her soft, warm flesh enveloping you. The weight is immense, but she's careful not to crush you, her strength perfectly balanced. The sensation of her giant pussy around your cock is overwhelming, and you can feel the power in each of her movements as she bounces on top of you. Her M-cup breasts jiggle with every bounce, and you reach up to cup one, feeling the heavy weight in your hand as you try to keep up with her rhythm. You're in awe of her size and power, and the vulnerability of being with someone so much larger makes the experience even more intense. You wrap your arms around her waist, holding on tight as she takes control, her moans filling the room and echoing in your ears. You're lost in the moment, your body responding to hers as if it's been programmed to do so. The sensation of her giant, soft skin against yours is like nothing you've ever felt before, and you realize that you've never truly understood the concept of being "in over your head" until now.

Ava's eyes lock onto yours, her pupils dilated with arousal. Her cheeks flush with the exertion of her movements, and she watches your expressions of amazement and pleasure with a hint of triumph. Her giant hands come to rest on your chest, her fingers splayed out, feeling your heart racing beneath her touch. "You like that, don't you?" she murmurs, her voice a seductive purr. She continues to ride you, her giant thighs flexing with each bounce. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, a symphony of pleasure. She leans back, her breasts bobbing, and grabs one, squeezing it to let more milk spray out. It lands on your chest. "You're doing so well," she praises, her smile wide and genuine. "But I've got more in store for you." With a wink, she starts to grow again, her breasts swelling to N-cups as her body reaches 18' 1" (550 cm).

The sudden growth sends a fresh wave of excitement through you. Ava's breasts, now N-cups, are even more overwhelming than before. The milk on your chest feels warm and sticky, and the scent is intoxicating. You reach up to touch one of the massive orbs, the weight and softness making your head spin. "I-I've never felt anything like this," you admit, your voice strained with pleasure. You try to keep up with her rhythm, your hands slipping slightly on her wet skin.

Ava's smile widens at your admission, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and desire. Her movements on top of you become more fervent, the sofa beneath you groaning in protest as it struggles to withstand the force of her passion. Each bounce of her giant, round ass sends jolts of pleasure through your body, and you can feel the room shrinking around you as she grows even larger. Her breasts swell to O-cups, and with a final roar of ecstasy, she commands, "Bigger!" Her body responds, shooting up to 19' 8" (600 cm), her breasts growing to a monstrous size. Her pussy tightens around you, and you feel her weight pressing down, the sofa threatening to collapse. Her moans become louder, more primal, and she repeats her demand, "Bigger!" Her voice echoes through the room as she continues to grow, her breasts now P-cups, the weight of them resting heavily on your chest as she fucks you with an animalistic intensity.

Her breasts now P-cups, Ava's body starts to quiver, her orgasm building like a tidal wave. You feel your own climax approaching, and with a desperate whine, you beg, "I can't take it anymore!" She responds by quickening her pace, her giant thighs squeezing tighter around your waist. That sends you over the edge and you start cumming wildly inside her squeezing her soft hips with your tiny hands. You feel the sofa crack beneath you as she reaches her peak, slapping her massive ass down one final time with a force that sends shockwaves through the room. The sofa gives way, collapsing in a cloud of dust and fabric, but she doesn't miss a beat. Her moans become a triumphant roar as she cums, the vibrations of her orgasm shaking the very walls. Her pussy clamps down on you, milking every drop of cum from your body as she screams, "YES! You make me feel so fucking big!" Her eyes roll back in her head, lost in the throes of pleasure. You lay there, panting and exhausted beneath her, her orgasm washing over you like a warm, enveloping blanket.

Her breathing slows as her orgasm subsides. With a gentle smile, she leans down, her P-cup breasts hovering over your face as she whispers, "You did so good, little one." She lifts herself off of you, her pussy releasing you with a wet pop. You lay there, panting and covered in a mix of sweat and milk, the room silent except for the sound of her heavy breathing. She reaches down, her hand cupping your cheek.

With a final, loving squeeze, Ava's hand withdraws, and she rises to her knees, her towering frame casting a shadow over the wreckage of the couch. Her body begins to shrink back to its original size, the power of her climax receding. You watch in amazement as she returns to her 7' 11" (240 cm) height, her breasts shrinking back to E-cups. She stands up and extends a hand, helping you to your feet. "Well, that was fun," she says with a wink. "But I think it's time for us to wrap up our little adventure." She gathers her clothes, slipping them back on with an ease that belies their tight fit. "Remember, everything that happened here stays between us, okay?" She leans in, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before heading to the door and disappearing in the night.

-----

You can find more like this at my deviantart. 😊

Link: https://www.deviantart.com/ragvas

[bambisnc]

hi bae - I’m so curious how do u think riize would act in a mehndi!! I just know taro would be cutting it up on the dancefloor 🤩🤩

riize at a mehndi!

pairing : ot7 x reader! genre : fluff <3 cw/tw : food mention wc : i wanna say 350?

you're so right about shotaro i definitely see him glued to the dance floor - bro is in his element and my god it completely SHOWS. there's probably a whole gaggle of people crowding around him to try to grab his attention but he's literally only here to dance man ,,

then, i see seunghan and anton as the ones who do errands for the bride and all her friends + basically whoever's getting mehndi - i'm talking holding their phone up for them, getting smol pieces of cut fruit (most wholesome thing EVER), water, pushing their away from their face when it gets a little too close to the eyes oof <3

oh and, sungchan and eunseok would fully accept their role of the "uncle who roams around telling people to eat." you know the pushy ones who're like "nah man you GOTTA eat . you can't leave without eating dude . we didn't make the rules y'know??" also they'd be like really popular with the dad-adjacent crowd (it's bc of the atrocious amount of dad jokes BOTH of them crack on a daily basis </3)

the one who'd be put in-charge of the elderly aunties would for sure be sohee because they all just adore him so much (everyone else does too but the cute grandmas just show it well with all their cheek pinching and head pats). very likely that you'd see him gossiping about someone's third cousin's best friend's daughter's boyfriend with them <3

lastly, wonbin would be the guy who looks all mysterious in a corner till someone tells him to babysit the little kids after which you'd see him sat down surrounded by littol kids who deck him out in cutesy hair clips and chunky jewelry (if this isn't something that seems like it'd happen at a normal mehndi ... then guys my bsf's cousins might be weird) probably ends up looking prettier than the bride and groom combined ngl

notes : i researched for this btw (asked my bsf to take notes for me <3) + [m.list] song rec : mehndi laga ke rakhna from dilwale dulhaniya le jayenge (The Og >>>>)

𐙚 . regulars : @nicholasluvbot @totheseok ⋆

[magickman1234]

The Danger of Denial

God babe, look at you! How can you ignore what I’ve done to you? I know you come hard and long until you hurt it turns you on so much but is the obesity worth mobility issues? I know you enjoyed the freedom of giving in to obesity but you’re no longer 280, nor just 300 or 350. You’re over 400! You’re not just lightly inconvenienced now you really are experiencing your favorite weight gain stories now. You barely fit into normal chairs babe. You can’t fit in booths and I’ll need to start getting you a second chair if I’m honest. I see you pretend it’s not so and leaving it to me to fix. God is it worth it though? You’re dependent on me more and more but you pretend you aren’t. You’ve let denial be your main method and avoidance. Excuses and trying to pretend you’re in charge. I mean it’s hot to watch you slowly develop real mobility issues, get too fat for booths and barely fit through tiny hotel bathroom doors but it adds up. You’re totally helpless now. You just come harder when I’ve told you this and it’s like it’s a game to you. If we didn’t live in the USA you’d always be the fattest women hell person at every place or event we waddle you into. But fuck this last year it’s clear you’re so rotund you’re the fattest like 90-95% of the time. Yes our region isn’t as fat as others but it’s got lots of fat and super sized people. You seriously are so fat I have to take you to a buffet to guarantee you’re outclassed. I hate to say it but your now peers with even the ssbbws and smaller usssbbw. You’re over 400 now you’ll literally never be able to get your old body back and I catch you eating all the time faster when you realize it. I’ve made you so greedy you steal my food and you convince yourself you bring food for me that’s clearly for you. You’re in denial that you’re not a greedy sow like you are. I’ll be lucky if I can keep you from actually hitting 450 in the next six months to a year. We’ve both gotten in denial how turned on you get at the darkest shit in feedism. You’re seriously addicted to humiliation. I teased you about winning a free meal at that heart attack grill last month and when I brought it up again you went so wild. I’ve never seen you come so hard so long! You’re out of actual control between the pleasure of food, your gluttony for humiliation and your utter arousal when I catch a new roll/stretchmark/mobility issue I point out to you. You’re so in denial about the reality but the reality when I point it out turns you on more. You used to be so active more dominate sexually well a switch but you submit and give in to your gluttony without thought. Remember you used to be an accomplished feeder too? Maybe more of a feeder but once I got you set free yourself you slowly stopped cooking or actively focus on feeding others. You let me ply you with treats and lazing in our living room. Sure you might get busy or get things done still but it’s becoming it’s own denial as you’ve now can do it all without getting up much. You’re so hopeless now as rolls and belly fat escape your clothes to a humiliating degree but you stuff your fat face eagerly. You say nothing when I give you sweets or chips or whatever I know will turn to pure lard because honestly I’ve made you way too lazy. Lazy on levels that embarrass you when it’s just me and you let alone around others. The tasty denial of a fat girl turned utter butterball tries to pretend to be busy or uses real business to cover it’s getting hard or exhausting to do it herself. I can see it in your eyes the highly suppressed humiliation and fear when you reach for something or waddle your fat ass across “challenging” room or space that even to your average fat girl would never find restrictive or hard to pass through. You know. You lived at the nice crossroads of fat but not truly humiliatingly fat for year well then you met me. Now grazing and multiple desserts and snacks are the norm. You’re hopeless, helpless and literally blowing up with fat. You relish and fantasize about the next humiliation so hard you only come harder as you surpass each limit you hit.

[leiawritesstories]

I saw the below prompt and could easily imagine Aelin running a black market of printing services and I would love to see what kind of favors she’d take from a certain buzzard who is pressed for time.. especially if they’ve maybe been secretly pining after one another this whole time? 👀

Prompt: You’re the only one in our college dorm building that owns a printer so you run a black market of printing services for favors/money/food/etc. I don’t have time to walk twenty minutes across campus to the library, please help me.

Congrats on 500!

ANON DID YOU READ MY MIND????

Okay so.....this is actually real-life me at my college 🤣🤣🤣 I own a desktop printer so I don't have to use the campus printing service all the time and half the people in my building want to use it. Naturally I charge a fee--either money or food or coffee, i'm not picky lol. Anyway this is literally me in real life except for the secretly pining part bc i'm very very single and I adore this prompt, thank you so so much 😁

Here you go!!

Word count: 870

Warnings: maybe some swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Galathynius! Do me a solid?"

Aelin glanced over her shoulder to find Fenrys jogging after her, catching up to her before they made it to the dorm building they both lived in. "What do you want, Moonie?"

The blonde huffed a dramatic sigh. "First of all, stop calling me that, you know it doesn't fit my mature persona." Aelin snorted so hard she almost coughed. Fen just rolled his eyes. "Secondlyyyy," he groaned dramatically, "I need to print a paper. Lemme use your printer? Pretty pretty please?" He widened his big brown eyes irresistibly.

"Your sad puppy face isn't gonna get you free printing, Moonie," Aelin drawled. "A dollar a page, or $30 flat if it's more than 20 pages."

"Highway robbery!" he gasped.

She rolled her eyes. "It's the same price I've always charged and you know it."

"Ugh, fiiiiine," he grumbled. "Unless...how about I cover your coffee for the next week?"

"Hmm." She pretended to seriously think about it, knowing full well that she'd accept. Who was Aelin Galathynius to turn down free coffee, especially when she spent somewhere around 40 dollars a week on her precious caffeine. "All right, I accept. I'll text you my drink order, and I expect it delivered every morning as I leave for my first class."

Fen saluted her. "Yes ma'am!" he chirped.

She smacked his shoulder teasingly. "Cut the flourishing, drama queen." Fen flashed her a grin and jogged off towards his next class, while she swiped her student ID in the building's card reader and walked into the dorm. She, Elide, and Lysandra shared a triple room with an ensuite bathroom on the fourth floor, so she had to climb three flights of stairs to get to her room. As she opened her door, she noticed a sticky note stuck to the wood. It wasn't uncommon; people who wanted to buy her printing service often left notes stuck to her door. She gave the note a cursory glance.

HELP! Need to print 30 pages for 2pm class! -RW, #350

Aelin glanced at her phone. It was 1:15 pm, meaning whoever had left that note was probably pacing around their room in distress right about now. So of course, she decided to go pay Room 350 a little visit.

"Ah, shit!" yelped a male voice from inside the room when she knocked. There was a flurry of noise and stumbling, and a tall guy wearing a UTerr Hockey sweatshirt opened the door, his pale blonde hair a frazzled mess. "Um, hi?"

"Well hello there, Whitethorn," Aelin smirked, delighted to see the normally perfectly put-together Rowan Whitethorn, star defenseman of UTerr Hockey, all flustered over not having printed materials for class.

"Aelin, thank the fuckin' gods," Rowan gasped. "Did you get my note?"

"Mhmm," she hummed, intentionally vague.

"Ae," he groaned, his desperation showing, "can you print my articles? Please?"

"Got payment?"

"I--yeah, gimme a sec." He vanished into his room and banged around for another couple of minutes, rummaging through drawers and probably his closet as he tried to find cash. He reappeared with a sheepish, embarrassed blush staining his chiseled cheeks. "Uh..."

"No cash?" Aelin clicked her tongue softly. "Sorry, Ro. I don't take credit cards."

"Please," he begged, dropping right down to his knees in front of her. "Fuck it, Ae, I'm desperate! I'm fucked if I don't come to class prepared, the professor already thinks all athletes are dumb jocks who pass classes on daddy's money." He clasped his hands together and stared imploringly up at her, his deep green eyes wide and pleading.

A very naughty part of Aelin wanted to tell him all the sinful ways he could pay her for printing his articles. But because she was a mature woman, she kept that part of herself quiet.

"Well," she mused, "I suppose you could offer me a favor, but it better be worth thirty pages."

Rowan closed his eyes and tipped his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips as he frantically tried to think up a worthy favor. That gods-damned little groan of his did bad, bad things to Aelin's naughty little inner voice.

Or maybe that was just her enormous little crush on him.

"Dinner." Rowan's voice broke through her traitorous wandering thoughts.

"What?"

"I'll buy you dinner," he repeated. "Anywhere you want, as much food as you want. I swear."

Aelin couldn't have stopped her response no matter how hard she tried. "Like a dinner date?"

Rowan's face flushed a surprisingly endearing shade of vibrant pink. "Um...yeah?"

A tiny, pleased smile curled the corners of Aelin's lips, blooming into a full-blown smile the longer she made him squirm. "Okay, I accept. It's a date." Without waiting for his response, she waltzed off.

When she returned to his room, his articles in hand, he was waiting by the door. He took the papers from her with a slow, relieved smile that made a dimple in his left cheek pop out.

"Thanks, Ae."

"Of course." She waved him off. "Better not be late, Ro."

"You too." Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he winked. "Our date, darlin'. Seven o'clock tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

Gods help her, she could not wait.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[lesbii-enne]

Di’kut

(Part one)

You didn’t mean to stumble across the covert, you merely meant to find new parts for your star cruiser and maybe a new gig as a mechanic.

Part two: part three:

Translations below

You stepped out of your cruiser onto the desert planet. The scorching sun met your helmet as you stepped out and surveyed the land. The sketchy buildings and market were the first to catch your eye.

“This looks like a shit hole,”

Looking back at my star cruiser you say

“Guess we’ll fit right in then, huh shit box?”

Walking through the market of the secluded planet people gawked, not exactly surprising considering most mandalorians have previously been wiped out. Only a few left to scourge the planets and do kriff knows what. You overheard some of the towns people speak of the ‘other mandalorians’ you nearly stopped right there and begged to know where they were. But you didn’t, you had to keep it together, no matter how much you had longed to be with your own kind. You were fine on your own. Kriff sake you hadn’t even seen another mandalorian since the purge. You continued walking; looking through the market you found some parts for your ship, though you did have to haggle a bit since you were a bit cheap.

“500 credits? Kriff no that part is barely worth 200 credits! I could get a better deal on kamino!”

Your voice modulator hummed

The shopkeeper mumbled something like ‘can’t have shit on Kamino.’ but you ignored it. You were lying your ass off but you were good at it.

“Fine I can do 400 credits.”

“300.”

“350.”

“Fine.”

You handed over the credits and took your parts back to your ship. That part was worth 500 at the least but you got one hell of a discount for it. Seeing your ship in the distance you sped your walking. In a moment you heard shuffling and whipped around to a tall mandalorian in shiny beskar armor charging you. You flung your parts away from you and grabbed hold of your vibroblade and blaster. Aiming the vibroblade towards him swinging at him and catching his breastplate with a screeching noise. Leaving an ugly scar in his armor. Kicking his leg out you fell back landing on the ground with a ‘thud’ and had the air knocked out of you. He kneeled over you and demanded

“Who are you?”

You raised your leg wrapping it around the man’s torso you rolled the both of you over. Now you kneeling over him with your blade held at his throat

“A stormtrooper obviously.”

You could feel the glare of the man through his helmet. You began to get up grabbing him just above the wrist you pulled him up.

“We’ll if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to repairing my ship so I can get out of this shit hole thanks.”

You could feel his confusion and you turned back again

“Look I’m not trying to hunt you or the ‘other mandalorians’ that I heard about in the market. I just came to this planet to get parts and get back to work fixing ships.”

You began to walk again

“Come to the covert.”

You looked at him quizzically, tilting your helmet a little as you stared.

“I do not really have a choice in the matter do I?”

“No.”

“Well may I at least put my parts in my ship?”

He agreed. You hauled your various parts back to your ship and put them in a storage unit in your ship. You debated ditching him and getting away from this planet but your ship was in no shape to escape with. You ultimately left your ship and followed the large burly man and you rejoiced at the thought of seeing your kind once again.

The two of you navigated the market and past the small village to wherever the ‘covert’ was. You decided to speak up

“Do I get to know your name or must I call you tin can ?”

He glanced down at you

“Din Djarin, but you may call me Din.”

“Alor Din Djarin?”

“You may just call me Din, what clan do you belong to?”

“I am of the Verde clan, though it isn’t much of a family now as I am the last of the Clan Verde.”

He nodded and the rest of the walk remained silent. You came to the top of a dune and saw the encampment below just past a large glittering lake. You saw children playing in their oversized mandalorian helmets. You two began to descend from the dune and towards the camp. Mandalorians began toward you, alor Din began to push through them until there stood a large man clad in Blue beskar.

Oh look another fic and it’s Paz Vizsla! Yay I have most of part two as a draft right now so it should be out soon. If there are a lot of errors let me know it’s a little late and I just wanted to push out something before I went to sleep lmao.

Translations:

alor: leader, boss, basically anyone higher ‘rank’ than oneself.

[theclaravoyant]

I've been hearing the theory that Gerrard is going to captain the precinct for a while because something happens to Bobby?? Do you think you could write something about that? *prayer/please hands emoji*

AN ~ all aboard the Everybody Hates Gerrard Train!! whoo WHOO XD I am loving writing solidarity of these guys against that bench. I do have something angstier in the pipeline (ooof the buckbobby feels) but in the meantime I wanted to have a little fun with it.

tw for gerrard being ... Like ThatTM I may have dialed it up a bit for funsies. and because if Gerrard gets the Captaincy when Hen and Chim are sitting right there it might be dynamically interesting and whatever but imma still punch him tho

equality

“What are you wearing?”

Buck grins, turning away from the oven with a smear of cheese on his nose, and gestures down at his newest favourite apron. Printed across the front it reads: In my defence, I was left unsupervised.

“Hen got it for me.”

Gerrard is distinctly not amused.

Buck's smile falters. Yeah, they warned him about this.

From the table behind, Chimney attempts an assist - “Buck's in charge of the kitchen when Cap's not here. It's kinda their thing.”

“Well.” Gerrard turns back to Chimney and gives him a bitter smile. “Then it's a good thing 'Cap' is here. So I'll decide whose thing is what. Wilson! Get in here!”

“Shocker,” Hen mutters, but she moves nonetheless.

“What was that, Firefighter?”

“I said, yes sir.”

At least Buck, who's been doing his best not to look like a kicked puppy, gets a snort out of that. Chim bites back a grin.

“Good,” Gerrard spits, glaring. “'Cause it'd be a shame to have to write you up.”

“Really?” Hen challenges. “'Cause it would be a joy to report you.”

Buck and Chim's expression turn from quiet glee to panic. Abort, Abort. Hen resists the urge to bite her tongue. She's put her foot in it, and Gerrard relishes the stumble.

“For what, hm?” he presses, closing slowly in on her. “For making one of my subordinates do something she doesn't want to do? Boo hoo.”

Hen takes a deep breath. She has to choose her next words quietly - She can't afford to make a wrong move, and set off the trap. But then a new voice interrupts from the top of the stairwell. Eddie.

“For putting the only woman on the team in the kitchen. Again,” he points out. His voice is clipped. Confident. Impatient. “When somebody else has clearly volunteered to do that task.”

Hen groans silently. She's pretty sure there's nothing Gerrard would love more than to fire them all in one fell swoop. And probably nothing Eddie would love more than to punch the guy and set that chain reaction going. But- it seems to work. Sort of. Gerrard stops closing in on her and throws his hands out as if this has all been an innocent mistake.

“Ohhh, so that's the problem! Why didn't you say so? Wilson. What's something Buckley hates doing then.”

“Uh... Laundry I guess?”

Buck flashes her a look - come on, man – but he gets it. She has to take the out.

“You heard the woman,” Gerrard orders. “Laundry. Stat.”

“Okay, um,” he waffles out some handover instructions - “It's on 350 degrees at the moment, if you wait about forty five minutes then dial it up for the last ten-”

Gerrard clears his throat. “Step to it, Buckley! I think the gym rags need doing. And you'd better not have that thing on when you get back.”

Hen mouths, sorry.

“Don't even worry about it. Happy to serve.” Buck forces a smile at their Captain, hands Hen the tea towel he's got draped over his shoulder, and jogs off down the stairs.

“Problem solved, then,” Gerrard resolves on their behalf. “Equality.”

He fixes Eddie with a shit eating grin. Lets his hands linger outstretched as if he's going for a big, weird bear hug. Eddie grimaces as the man goes for a half-embrace-half-shoulder punch instead.

“You've got balls, mi amigo,” he says. “I like it.”

[op81s]

f1 ask game

thanks for the tags @raapija and @oxygenpdf

Who is your favorite driver?

my pastry boy, my 🧍 boy, my 👍 boy, my polite cat smile boy, my f1 race winner boy.

Do you have other favorite drivers?

oh, too many to name but if you really want to know how i feel about a specfic driver feel free to ask and i'll probably write a whole essay on them 😅

Who is your least favorite driver?

current drivers?? ........................... danny ric. please don't come for me danny fans 🙏 i just feel like he's doubling and tripling down on making stupid comments instead of just saying 'i don't feel knowledgeable enough to speak on this' or 'i don't want to comment until we see what the proper authorities have to say about it'. former drivers?? nikita mazepin. that man should not have been anywhere near an f1 track.

Do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

definitely primarily drivers, that tends to be the case with me and most athletes really. (the biggest exception being t1 though i don't know how many of you are familiar enough with league to know who they are 😅).

If you like teams what teams do you pull for?

i'd say aston martin, mercedes and usually mclaren but i'm not to happy with mclaren at the moment so 🤷‍♀️

How long have you been into F1?

oh, *check's watch* for about 8 weeks 😅

What got you into F1?

just checking out the f1 tag when it was trending and getting interested in these weird ass sport blorbos who drive around 350+ kph death machines.

Do you enjoy fic/rpf?

i will die on the hill that sports rpf fics are some of the best writing i have ever read. i first got into it through hockey rpf and i actually needed to lie down to recover from some of those fics.

How do you view new fans?

...............well considering i'm the textbook definition of a new fan i think we're an excellent addition actually 😊

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh, well if took over aston martin i'd get make sure they had some better social media moderation 💀 and if i took over mercedes i'd fix that fucking car 'cause just......... and i would love to retroactively take over mclaren 'cause let me tell you that fucking orange man would be nowhere near the mclaren garage if i was in charge 🙃

Are your friends and family into F1?

nope, but i don't let that stop me from terrorising everyone around me about it. i'm pretty sure my mom will be an f1 expert by the end of the season.

Are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

absolutely!! i am a BIG introvert and get very anxious about talking to/messaging new people but i am trying to push past that 😅😊

tagging: @oscar-piastri, @wisteriagoesvroom, @mecachrome, @lil-shiro

[not-poignant]

Alex 🤝 FFS Ef: trying to convince their healthcare providers to not provide a sliding scale fee

The healthcare providers like 'omg how do I deal with these guys, seriously.'

Look is it my dream for all of my healthcare providers to charge me less because they take one look at me and know I could do with a break? Yes. Yes it is. Do I get to repeatedly live that out in fanfiction? Yes. Yes I do.

Fictional worlds get to be (slightly) more merciful than the real world, when I'm writing them, lmao.

(Also honestly I have had healthcare providers do this. Not always, but enough that like... I know how that mercy feels. I once burst into tears because of it. We have *some* free healthcare and then some *very expensive* healthcare. This is a place where I get my cancer treatment free but have to pay $650 outright to see my psychiatrist for the initial appointment, and then $350 for every subsequent 15 minutes. Without insurance, that's just...painful - but like without it, I think I'd be dead maybe so).

Anyway, yeah, living my fantasy life through these characters and I'm sure a few other folks who have dealt with needing to pay for healthcare are doing the same fsaldkjfdas

[madameducyberversailles]

Bryson Tiller Said (141 Crackfic)

Inspired by some dumbass shit I saw on Instagram and have been laughing at since. Could make more songfics if y’all want, I got ideas, but this one funny thing struck me the most. Enjoy the hilarity! (Seriously I looked up Texan radio stations for rap, different cars and British driving, I spent time researching this, please tell me how you feel about it)

Warnings: Swearing cause it’s military obvs, canon divergence, shenanigans, touching without knowledge (non-malicious), kind of suggestive but for comedy, short clothing is a warning? Bad/Incorrect military term use and imagery, but idgaf 

Bryson Tiller Said: 141 x GN! Reader (Crackfic)

Song: Don’t -Bryson Tiller 

No one knew whether or not it could be considered ‘down time’ in any way since you all were technically in hiding and appearing as civilian as possible to meet up with other agents and military personnel like yourselves, but it was enjoyable for the most part enough that the edge of the ongoing mission wasn’t as hard to deal with. 

Communications had been cut off except for radio and very, very, secure messaging through military technology. You guys had to make it to the safehouse and gather with other operatives who were trying to deal with a threat- this time, from the inside. Price was already there, having been helping Laswell from the air with Nikolai when it all went downhill, and he’d ordered you all frantically to get to ‘Rockseller’s Point’, a fake place he’d made up, but it was a code word you all knew: the mission and team were compromised, meaning you all had to get to the nearest safehouse. 

Thankfully, Price was thorough in his briefing before missions, and let you all know the codeword for your safehouses and their locations, establishing a system of communication that made it possible for your little group to survive should any higher up or other group decide they wanted to try a hand at eliminating you. 

So, that’s how you all were here: travelling for three out of your eleven day long trip towards the safehouse. You all took turns driving (though Soap was permanently banned from sitting in the front ever since he nearly lost control behind the wheel because he got tipsy before his driving shift), and now Gaz pulled the Ford F-350 into a stop near a local gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere in Texas, trying to find the safehouse closest to the Mexican border as you got closer to meeting with Los Vaqueros for another mission in both Mexico and the States. 

All of the Brits had troubles with the road. You had to drive the first day for almost 4 full shifts of 6 hours of driving, as the roads were on the opposite side, and the driver’s seat was also on the different side in America, meaning that they had to adapt and it would only be possible to do so after someone else drove for a while in order to get them able to drive in this new situation. After almost 50 hours of driving over two days, the Brits finally got used to the traffic enough that they were comfortable driving, and now, into the third day, Gaz and Ghost had driven a few hours. 

Now, you were where you belonged, in your Passenger Princess seat, lovingly dubbed to you by popular culture which was technically your rightfully deserved throne at this point from carrying the entire 141′s asses to safety on the road and risking numb legs from driving. You had been reading a book as your phone charged, since everyone had to have at least one working phone just in case and you all took turns carefully charging one another’s phones to keep at least one personal device alive. You’d stopped for gas, and there was a convenience store as well that likely had overpriced sustenance, but you all would be able to make do with the 3K cash you guys kept on hand for missions just like this, located in a safe pocket known only to you and to be only used in emergencies. If had kept you guys watered and fed and still able to cover the needs for gas and any repairs you may need, thanks to you all (though mostly Ghost) keeping Soap from splurging on the drinks. Your gear in the back of the locked tailgate of the pickup truck you drove, and your friends with you meant you practically had everything you needed. Ghost was an especial help through all this due to his survival missions in previous years, and he was a godsend of help, since the other two were clowns, in every affectionate and damnable context of the word. With every stop, you all used the bathrooms (though the boys were unfortunately blessed with no social stigma or fear of their urinary systems when the bathrooms were bad enough that pig stys were cleaner) and gotten some food to keep your energy along with the MRE’s, even if the new food tasted blander than Texas sand, as Soap and you complained. 

Days ago, the heat had gotten to you enough that you’d opted to wear civilian clothing, consisting of shorts and a shirt, and due to the heat you all kept having to drink water which made it worse, but at least you were trained for hostile temperatures and knew how to survive this, even with all the complaints you’d made that’d send God himself into another fit of flooding rage. You sat in the passenger seat, reading your book as Gaz, Ghost and Soap made their rounds at the gas station to gather necessities and switch driving shifts. You were shielded from the intensity of the mid-morning sun by the tinted windows, kept cool by the ac on blast as the car was stagnant as the boys conversed and argued about food to buy and driving regulations. You brought out a bag of chips that a vendor yesterday had given to you after he’d pitifully flirted with you and earned the ire of Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, and threw in free food in apology for ‘messing with the military’, which was somewhat of a cultural taboo in America, especially in a place like Texas. You began to munch on the chips, enjoying the flavour coating your tongue as you distractedly repositioned the bag between your thighs while reading, the book getting interesting as the archaeologist was about to come face to face with the harrowing truth of what they’d discovered. You didn’t even hear Ghost open the door on your left, nor did you feel the truck shift as he settled his weight into the driver’s seat, but you did comically jump when he shut the door with a slam! that knocked you out of your vicarious fantasy for a moment. 

Ghosts’ eyes were full of puzzlement for a moment before his eyelids narrowed in a tell-tale sign of mild amusement, clearly finding your jumpiness funny. A dusting of red flushed across your cheeks as he teased: “Lost yourself in that book enough to let someone waltz into the truck and drive off into the horizon, hm?” making light of the trope of romance books usually being read on long trips though yours was not a romance book currently. 

You turned away, smiling slightly in embarrassment as you retorted, “Well I didn’t see you waltz in, and if anyone’s driving it’ll have to be me since you guys don’t know how to drive on these roads”. 

Ghost huffed, muttering a muffled ‘touché’ under his breath as he started the car up. “Buckle in, we’re leaving!” he called out to Gaz and Soap, his accented voice barking orders bringing them back to the present as you too scrambled to put on the seatbelt. Within just a few moments, you were on the road again with a full tank of gas and the wind on your skin. 

You ate sparingly, wanting to save the chips to make them last. You looked up at the road and noticed there was a sign on the highway for Dallas, meaning you guys were getting closer to the destination point calculated for a productive journey to the safehouse. Knowing that you were ahead of schedule and headed into the inner cities, your worries for preserving your chips were slightly alleviated. You were closing into the climax of the book, and since you had more than you’d expected left, you decided to offer some to the others since they were likely bored and wanting a snack. 

You reached towards the centre console to the cool water bottles stored in there, and took a swig, washing down most of the chips. You leaned your head on your shoulder and angled it to call out to Soap and Gaz behind you: “Hey, I’ve got chips, you guys can have some if you want, okay?” 

Soap’s enthusiastic ‘yes!’ resounded through the car as he reached towards you, his hand out asking for some nourishment. You reach into the bag and place a few chips in his hand, to which his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “These aren’t chips, they’re crisps,” he says in a hushed voice. 

You roll your eyes, remembering that the Brits of course had a different word for things. “Yeah, we just call them chips in Turtle Island AKA North America, just eat it Soap” you told him, knowing he’d go on a tangent if you let him feel like he had to defend his vernacular for some reason. Soap playfully huffed, and you both went back to doing your own thing. You barely opened the book when you heard Gaz ask for some ‘crisps’ too, and you handed some over, sticking your tongue out at Soap when he groaned at his unsuccessful attempt to grab Gaz’s chips for himself, and let them know they could help themselves to the chips, or crisps as Soap was insistent on, from the bag in your lap. 

You turned back to look at your book again when your eyes flickered to Ghost, the masked Lieutenant sitting proud and tall with steel posture to drive and fight the instinct to drive in the opposite lane. He was doing his best, driving on the empty scenic roads of Texas on the way to Dallas, and he must have skipped out on something in order to conserve resources, because the Lieutenant, as you’d come to know, was not as spectrally malevolent as the name sounds, as his concern for others lingers in his actions, and you wanted to make sure he was included in snack breaks. 

“Ghost, if you’d like, feel free to grab some chips whenever, okay?” you offer, your voice in a hushed whisper to speak privately to him with respect. 

He nods minutely, and it lets you know not only that he heard you but also that he acknowledged what you said. He kept driving. You turned back to your book. 

A few minutes later, a skeletal gloved hand reached out towards the chips, and you shifted the mouth of the bag towards him so he could eat. 

Ghost grabbed a few chips and you could see his hand move to the bag from your periphery before you turned back to the book, smiling to yourself that Ghost was actually eating something before your attention was fully tuned in to the book you were reading. 

The road was smooth, gravel and asphalt combined with the tires of the pickup being the best kind of white noise for reading while in Passenger Princess Mode. Every so often the bag of chips would rustle to alert you someone was eating, and even Ghost’s hand didn’t faze you as he grabbed more chips, apparently enjoying the flavour. He fed himself the chips before trying to fiddle around with the radio, wondering if there was any traffic updates on the local radios, with soft static cutting in and out, adding to the languid atmosphere. 

You were so engrossed in your novel that you didn’t see the envious look in Soap’s eyes as he looked at the chips, and you didn’t feel the bag being kidnapped from the security of your lap as Soap took the chips for himself and Gaz, the two soldiers crunching on the seasoned and fried potato slices to their heart’s content. 

You did, however, feel when something brushed along your skin, eager fingers searching for purchase only to find a grip on the flesh of your thigh just before the hem of your shorts, insistent fingers grabbing onto the skin before it realized what it was touching. 

You froze. So did the mystery hand. 

Your eyes traced the gloved hand resting between your thighs, just as confused and embarrassed as you are. You tilted your head up back to Ghost. 

The man was frozen in his seat, wide eyes flickering between his hand on your thigh, you and the road, the car barely moving. You could feel his hand tremble as he refused to meet your eyes. 

The poor man was utterly mortified. 

Silence reigned in the car, louder than any explosion you could recall as even Soap and Gaz sat stock still, wondering why the fuck Ghost’s hand was on your thigh. 

No one dared to move. No one dared to breathe. 

The radio crackled to life finally, getting just enough of a frequency to announce no traffic but instead burst into song- 

“-Skrr, get in the ride, 

Left hand is steering, the other is gripping your thigh-”

-Which inevitably caused you to snicker, and decide that it was time to be the best damn comedian you could be. 

You put on the most pretentious look of surprise as you blatantly looked between Ghost’s hand and his eyes that looked everywhere but at you, and after a split second exaggerated gasp, you put your hand to your heart, clutching imaginary pearls. 

“We’re not even on a first name basis, Lieutenant! I see we’re getting tactically touchy?” you said, rolling the last syllable as you batted your lashes in a way that would make satirical comedians wheeze. You even threw in a wink. 

Ghost only blinked, confused. 

Then you slapped your hand atop his own, bit your lip in the most obnoxious way, and leaned in as though you were going to kiss him. 

The most feared Lieutenant Ghost reeled back at terminal velocity away from your pretend kiss and shrieked. 

The car swerved, and Ghost cursed, his voice back to its normal low pitch as all passengers held onto their door handles as Ghost maneuvered the car back into the lane, remembering after a second that he should be driving in the right lane instead. 

Soap and Gaz were getting squished by the displaced items from Ghost’s mistaken momentum but it did nothing to quell their laughter, as Soap fell onto Gaz’s lap as he wheezed from laughing so hard. Gaz was failing to hold himself upright as he slapped Soap’s back, laughing so hard his dimples showed and his stomach hurt. 

You? You could barely make out Ghost’s silhouette when your eyes glassed over with tears, your entire body shaking with your hyena-like laughter as you could barely squeak at times, laughing so hard you nearly deprived yourself of oxygen. 

Ghost’s shouts of ‘shut up you fucking idiots’ in between embarrassed mutterings and yelled threats did nothing to quell the laughter in the car, in fact it seemed to escalate it further, your laughter getting harder and Ghost’s shoulders hunching closer in embarrassment as he swore under his breath, his cheeks flushed a deep red with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel under his gloved hands. Gaz and Soap kept laughing, the chips long forgotten as they kept laughing about the entire situation, with Soap and Gaz losing air as their faces flushed from mirth. The men began to tire from their oxygen depravation from laughing so hard, and the laughter quieted down to whispered jokes and shushed chuckles. 

Hours later, your book was finally finished, the ending being so heartbreaking yet cathartic at the same time that you closed the book and put it away, ready to start reading a different one later. You breathed a sigh as you leaned back in your seat, propping your one arm outside the window as wind from the sunroof flowed in to cool you down. Gaz and Soap had been so tuckered out that they fell asleep in the warmth of the sun and the steady pace of the car. You turned your body and leaned over the console compartment to grab the bag of chips back, a bit dismayed to find it nearing emptiness. 

You mentally shrugged and began to eat some more of them. You turned to see Ghost, the Lieutenant’s posture relaxed if not for the tenseness of his shoulders, clearly from being made fun of. The Lieutenant had been with the 141 since its inception and was probably used to them, so he likely didn’t give a shit about the antics the boys pulled about making fun of him. So why was he tense? It occurred to you that maybe...he was embarrassed about the fact he touched you without permission. 

You and the Lieutenant respected one another enough that you were well-acquainted with his mannerisms, his social cues, and his likes and dislikes enough that both on and off the field you could work together in relative ease. But his reaction to this situation now had you worried. Had any of you crossed an unspoken boundary? 

Your heart started to pound harder in your chest as you worried about whether or not something bad had occurred, and if you were at fault. Ghost was not just a man who built himself up to war but also knew how to hold a grudge, and no one ever, in their right mind, wanted to be on the receiving end. Especially if they considered him a friend. 

Gathering your courage, you regarded him for a moment then cleared your throat before you could chicken out. “Lieutenant?” you peeped up, your voice smaller than you’d intended. 

Ghost briefly turned to look at you, his focus diverting from the completely empty road to you after one odd car passed by. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice in a more curious and benign tone than you expected it to be. 

You looked down for a moment and took in a breath, causing Ghost’s eyes to flicker on you once more in a look that could be classified as nervous. 

“I’m...uh, I’m sorry, sir, if we’d gone too far. Are you okay?” you asked, concern etched on your face. 

Ghost grunted, nodding before turning back to the window. Silence reigned between you, causing your stomach to sink further. You pressed your lips together, eyes shifting before you heard him sigh after a beat. 

“I touched you without permission; I should have apologized earlier. ‘M sorry if it made you uncomfortable”, he says, and the tinge in his voice tells you enough. 

He’s not upset at you. He’s concerned if he made you uncomfortable. 

The Lieutenant is not just feared, but also respected. Because he gives that respect to others too. 

You smile, shaking your head softly. “I’m okay, sir. It was no big deal. I know it wasn’t intentional”, you said, feeling better now that the air was cleared. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Lt”. 

You can see the tension leave him, his shoulders no longer as tense, now that there was no reason for there to be any awkward tension. 

You smiled, more to yourself than to him, before settling down to sit more comfortably in the seat. Picking up your phone, you checked the percentage of power before finally unplugging it, checking through different apps to see if there was a message. 

“If it’s of any consolation, I’m okay with touch. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me,” comes out of your mouth absentmindedly. 

Ghost doesn’t answer. 

Instead, the lieutenant’s fingers toy with the controls of the radio, finally giving up and scrolling it back to the Texas radio station ‘The Trap’, and letting it play music softly so as not to disturb the sleeping soldiers behind him. 

You leaned on the centre console storage, arm laying on the armrest. 

Ghost’s right hand drops from the wheel, his forearm meeting your elbow. Heat radiates from him, emanating through the fabric of his sleeves. 

His wrist hangs over the console. Two gloved fingertips overlap your bare ones, warmth seeping into your skin as Future’s Turn on the Lights plays. 

[rolkstone]

so someone on dA is saying they will give me a bunch of money for some peices of my art as NFTs. he went on to give me a very basic, dictionary definition of NFTs when he asked me if I had ever dealt in NFT sales before and I said no. like...

he was very pushy during this entire encounter.

he asked me to get on telegram so we could discuss this further. i didn't like that but i did it. he said i'd hav to get a crypto wallet and mint the NFTs myself and it'd cost $350. when i said i can't afford to spend any money right now he was like oh but i'll pay half. i said i still can't spend any money. he agreed to wait till next month to further discuss this

but like...this feels like scam. what do you guys think? also, if he's got the money to spend on buying an NFT from me, why not cover the minting charge? it's a fraction of what he's offering. and he's willing to pay half, why not all? i didn't ask him this; i didn't want to be pushy him with himbut fuckin a man. i shouldn't even have to wonder that. really puts up red flags

of course i want the money and could use it but i dont't want to fucking get scammed. and i really don't think i should fork over money to get it started?

[doraminatook]

I have struggled with mental health issues for the vast majority of my life, whether I knew it or not.

Because of that, it was difficult to hold down a job or even work enough hours to make any kind of living wage. If I spent longer than five hours at a place, being told what to do, I suddenly felt very claustrophobic and panicked. More than once, I unceremoniously left a job because I simply couldn't take the pressure.

Because of this, a part of me just assumed that I'd live with my parents forever, and while there is nothing AT ALL shameful about living with your parents, it was adding to my mental health problems (I love my mother very much but we cannot live together). I felt trapped.

I had lived in the dorms for two years of undergraduate career but when I ran out of money, I had to move back home for my junior and senior year. I moved out again when I was 24 and lived in the spare bedroom of my friend who charged me a mere $350 a month for really what should have been double that. HOWEVER, that only lasted six months after my car died and all of my money went into buying a new one. Back home I went.

Through a number of changes in my life (including finding the right therapist and the right medication), I eventually did fully move out when I was 27...with a lease and a security deposit and everything! It was a TINY apartment, but it was mine...shared with my roommate and best friend (who is low-key my platonic soulmate). After moving all my belongings into the building, I plopped down on the floor of my bedroom -- still without a bed at that time -- and just basked in the reality of it all. I had done it. I was living on my own. The thing I thought was so impossible had happened and I would work my a$$ off to make sure I never had to financially rely on my parents again.

I lived in that tiny apartment with my best friend (platonic soul mate) for seven years. SEVEN YEARS. Neighbors came and went. Friends constantly asked, "You're STILL there?" But it served us well, and both my BFF and I were in no rush to move somewhere that was outside our meager means.

The 31st of August marked out last official day in the apartment that had been our home through several break-ups, the pandemic, my BFF's cancer diagnosis and subsequent chemo treatment, an attempted break-in, the death of our beloved cat, and more.

As I removed the last of my belongings from my room, I laid on the floor (somewhat out of fatigue; moving is HARD) and once again simply basked in the reality of it all. This place had done a good job of housing me and helping me feel like "real" adult. It was a stepping stone to new adventures.

I was grateful for the tiny apartment that was never big enough to host parties AND the toilet seat that never fit right AND that creepy space behind the basement stairs that always fascinated the cats but I was too scared to check out.

Thank you, tiny apartment.

[dumplingsjinson]

Okay honest question because I have no idea how the pricing works for tattoos. Is 350 for a 1-5cm tattoo (taking roughly around 1 and a half hours to do), with colour, a reasonable price? It’s in AUD lolol.

Just wanted to ask for opinions, since I reached out to two other artists today and they got back to me pretty quickly. One of them is charging the price as mentioned above while the other one is charging 200-250, but I’m not sure how long it would take so I had to shoot back an email to ask them.

I do like the style of the one who’s charging 350 lol, but idk if that price is reasonable or a bit much?

If anyone works in this profession, I’d love to hear your opinion as you’d most likely know more than my first timer idiot ass does 🤣🤣

[caesthoffe]

Update on Brianna Ghey + A Response to TERFS

TW // transphobia, and violence against trans people

As of today, February 15th 2023, the police are now beginning to investigate the killing of Brianna Ghey as a hate crime. Apparently the reports of her being bullied for years for her trans identity (with a friend saying at one point she had been "gang beaten") weren't enough cause for the cops originally.

The two 15-year-olds in connection with her killing are now officially being charged with murder. They cannot, and likely will not, be named due to UK laws around child safety and privacy.

On another note, people (mainly TERFs) had issue with me calling this a part of a greater genocide on trans people. To that, I say, look around.

When over 350 anti-trans bills are being considered in the U.S. as of 2023, when trans people are four times more likely to be victims of violent crime, when politicians call for firing squads on trans rights supporters, and when the grooming narrative is so pervasive that even members of Ron DeSantis' policital cabinet are spreading it, at a certain point it feels systematic.

(Seriously, how is it that an article from the 1950's is more respectful to trans people than a modern BBC article?)

I don't want to make cis people trans. I really don't. What I do want, however, is for trans people to live. That means letting them play sports with cis people, allowing them access to gender affirming healthcare, and respecting their identities— something TERFs do not support.

People, again mostly TERFs, also had issue with me comparing TERF-ism to the alt-right.

There is a saying about befriending right-wing extremists:

"If you have a guy who's friends with five bigots, you have six bigots"

So, how many are here?