#and did not realize until i used 'man' to refer to myself and then went wait. i don't think ash would call herself a man

[waspsystem]

we've got an appointment tomorrow for hopefully getting to go back on hrt (it has been literal years lmao) wish us luck

[xlpoww]

Jealousy, Jealousy

i really loved how bad for business turned out, and it seems you all did too!! so here's a continuation of the bfb universe/storyline :) it's not exactly a part two

warnings! jealousy (sanji's)

word count: 1,720

opla! sanji x f! reader

i actually took the time to reference back to this scene in the live action to make sure i got their orders right :) !! also hi i am alive !!! i just got busy with work- and i had a mini con to go to this weekend and i cosplayed nami! :D -> i have also been struggling with tremendous writers block, and was trying to force myself to write about zoro for days! but i couldn't, and i was frustrated with myself untill i rememebred this isnt a job, this is for fun for me and you guys. so i went back to some of the things i've written and felt like i could continue this one :) the story really flowed from there and i wrote a lot in a short span sooooooo &lt;3 ily all! thanks for reading as always <3333

sanji vinsmoke is jealous. 

the cook is used to woman falling at his feet, swooning over his flirty personality. either that or they get annoyed at him and clearly show disinterest. (oftentimes calling him names and sometimes resulting in him getting hit)

but you, the one girl he actually held a candle for, he couldn’t even seem to get a rejection from you. that would’ve made things so much easier for him and his heart. it’s gotten to the point he’s wishing you would tell him you don’t return his feelings. sure it would hurt in the moment, but at least he could have (hopefully) forced himself to move on.

but no, you won’t reject him; nor will you swoon at his advances. they seem to roll right off you like beads of rain on a window. never a hint of blush on your cheeks, no angrily quirked brows. how was he meant to understand? there are two reasonable reactions to such a forward man, either interest or not. how do you manage to toe the line so perfectly?

it drove him mad, not only were you horribly hard to read, every once in a while you would flirt aggressively back at him. it would always catch the poor boy off guard, leaving him stunned and blushing standing wherever he was. oftentimes you did it right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the playful teasing of the other workers, walking off to continue doing your job. 

you would be the death of him surely.

especially when the sight of you smiling so sweetly at that stupid swordsman causes a painful squeeze in his chest. his grip on the tray he was holding is bruising, and there’s a jealous rage brewing inside of him.

-

“hello my name is y/n, and i’ll be your waitress today. can i start you guys with any refreshments?” you flip over a page on your notepad, ready to write down the group's requests. what a charming bunch they were, with just a glance you could tell they really cared for one another.

“i’ll take a beer,” the green haired man speaks up, and you nod with a smile.

“i’ll take two beers, i normally have three but..” he trails off as the woman at the table speaks up.

“i’ll take a water.”

“and a glass of milk!” the endearing boy with a straw hat adds on, his words are muffled by the bun he was still chewing. when coming to greet them you’d brough over a basket of perfectly warmed buns with butter. nodding at them all, your pen into your apron as you repeat back to them. 

“three beers, milk and water, coming right up you guys.” you step back with a bow, turning towards the kitchen. doing so you notice your best friend is glaring in your direction, and as you walk back you tilt your head at him. when you get closer you realize his glare wasn't directed towards you, but the swordsman you had taken the order from. he doesn’t even seem to pay you any mind as you approach him, too focused on the table you had just walked away from. when you reach him where he stands in front of the doorway, you snap your fingers in his face. it seems to snap him out of it, and he looks down at you with a charming smile.

“hello my love, what can i do for you?” his hand is placed on your shoulder sweetly. the touch warms your body, but you shake it off to cross your arms. 

“what’s up with you, why were you glaring at my table? do you know them?” you gesture back towards your table, and a flush washes over his face when he realizes he’d been caught. he straightens his tie in an attempt to shake off his shame,

“not a clue who they are darling.” your eyebrow raises in suspicion, you’re not buying it. he seems to know you won’t, and he tucks his hand into his pockets as he shrugs.

“you just glare at people you don’t know now sanj?” a pout forms out of frustration. while you were wondering why he was lying to you so blatantly, he was internally swooning at how adorable you looked in that moment, and the sweet way you'd shortend his name. the grip you had over his heart was the strongest in all the seas.

“don’t worry, pretty lady, it’s nothing. now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got my own tables to wait on.” he’s internally scrambling to figure out how to distract you from what he was caught doing, in a moment of boldness (or a crazy attempt to change the subject), he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.

the action causes your eyes to almost bulge out of your head as you begin to blush. a smug smile forms on sanji’s face at the sight, he’d never felt more accomplished than he did in that moment. not only had he distracted you, he’d made your face light up all pretty and embarrassed. he winked at you before brushing past you to do his job, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen behind you.

you’re left in shock trying to wrap your brain around his actions, ‘what had gotten into him?’ as bold and flirtatious as he was, you would have never expected a display like that in front of all the customers.

oh shit, the customers. ‘had anyone seen that? oh gods.’ your hands clench into fists as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality and calm down, and you push past the doors of the kitchen. your eyes are focused on the ground as you collect the drinks needed for your table, placing them all on a tray and balancing them on one hand. you take a moment to breathe in and compose yourself before walking back out into the dining room. 

you eyes scan the room and find your favorite blond waiting on a table on the opposite side of the room of your own. his location makes it easy to return to the table without incident, placing down the three beers before the milk and water. with a smile, you tuck the tray under your arm and pull out your notepad again to continue taking their orders. maybe doing your job could distract from the rapid beating in your chest.

“you guys decided on food yet?” 

“one of everything!” the boy with a straw hat speaks up, and you quirk your eyebrow. they didn't look like the big spenders you were used too, but it wasn’t really your place to mention that. your smile never slips as you nod, writing it down and once again bowing before you leave. by your luck sanji seems to be waiting for you at the doorway of the kitchen. so much for the idea you had to avoid him until you’d calmed down.

he holds his hand out, offering to take your tray from you. his kind offer brings a smile to your lips, and you decide to shove down whatever inner turmoil was happening and act like what he did hadn’t happened. (he sure was.)

“any interesting orders?” he smiles, quirking a brow at you as you offer him your serving tray. you laugh, holding out your notepad to show him where you had written down ‘one of everything’ sanji’s heart squeezes at how cute your handwriting is, and he can’t help the chuckle. “well it looks like you’ll need some help taking out this order then, love.” the pet name causes the usual skip in your heartbeat, and you smile, nodding in acceptance of his offer for help, pushing past him into the kitchen to get your cooks started on the order of everything.

-

the food gets taken out in waves, sanji always accompanying you with an extra plate or two. the table is rather nice about it, they’re always caught up in conversation. even still they thank you for every plate you place down, they seem like genuine people. it warms your heart to see such a close group of friends. 

you can’t help but notice the way sanji doesn’t even pay the girl at the table any mind, too busy glaring at the green haired man, his hands lingering on your shoulder or back longer than they needed to. how he’d managed to add on to his unusual behavior, you wouldnt understand.

not that he really had any reason to be placing a tender hand on your back while you were serving guests. the third time it happens you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he turns to smile down at you sweetly, his hand on your back rubbing up and down. you look at him incredulously, sanji steps back, bowing before walking back towards the kitchen. before he left his gaze lingered on the man longer than should have been acceptable. you have to hold back a frustrated huff, turning back to the table with a plastered smile

“don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything! i hope you enjoy your meal.” you finish off the sentence with a bow, turning to look at the swordsman when he speaks up with a snort. “are you sure, wouldn’t want to make your busboy anymore jealous than he already is?” your eyes widen in confusion, not only at the notion, but the unnecessary insult towards your sanji.

“whatever could you mean.” the whole table turns to you, and the redhead quirks a brow at you, adding on.

“you’re not really that clueless, are you?” your mouth drops open, and a blush begins to cover your cheeks.

“no, i didn’t think i was.”

and then you’re even more confused. what reason would he have to be jealous over you and a random guest? it’s not like the man had even given you the time of day, or you’d even wanted it?  all you’d done was take his orders. 

the thought feels so impossible, even so it has already quickly begun eating away at your brain and heart. it was the only logical explanation for all his odd behaviors tonight.

sanji vinsmoke, was jealous. over you.

taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @scentisterror @shuujin @gcldtom

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:09」 — k.seungmin

» stray kids menu | seungmin menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ fallen angel!Seungmin × fem!Reader wc: 4.5k summary: His fall from grace had been due to his hard headedness and Seungmin’s status as a fallen one never really crossed his mind. At least until he met Y/N. He’d been dejected and grown disillusioned with life but upon meeting her, he started to see some meaning to life again. To put it simply -- Y/N made him feel alive. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: past bodily harm (seungmin had his wings literally cut off), not-so-high-speed collision of person on a bike with an angel (Y/N runs Seungmin over with a bicycle lol), one baseball reference (cause I couldn't help myself), past crime life/criminal activity (glosses over it but its there); sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is closed! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i thought about revisiting vampire!Seungmin for kinktober but I changed my mind for fallen angel Seungmin. I like the direction I went with this and I tried to keep the wordy bits down so it wouldn't be too long. So far I've written a total of 45k for kinktober not including this piece so, words are wordin'. anyway, next piece is Yunho which I am very excited for so stick around! thank you for reading. if you liked this, pls consider reblogging so more people will see it and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), impact play (f receiving; spanking, pussy slapping), begging, unprotected sex (use condoms! ):< ), oral (f receiving, m receiving), fingering (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: kitten, baby, angel; his: Minnie, sir), dom!Seungmin, sub!Reader, and that should be everything but if I missed some, let me know! kinks: Impact play + begging dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Oh no. Not until you beg. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Falling from heaven is not as graceful or as ethereal as one might think.

For Seungmin, it was painful, bloody, and nightmarish. The process is one no one could ever fathom. Being cast down from all you’ve known, thrown into a cruel, dark world with nothing and no one. The only thing more painful was having his wings removed. Even now, years since then, he could still feel the burn of the hot steel as it sliced through tendon and flesh.

When he first arrived on Earth, Seungmin had nothing. He had his name and his memories but a drive to survive and so he did, albeit not by the most legitimate of ways and he did fall into the wrong crowd but it was so much easier to climb the social ladder of the underworld than to try things the proper and legal way. After all, he didn’t even have a social security number, a line of credit, or even a last name.

Seungmin realized he was caught in the wrong crowd when the hideout he was in was raided. He barely managed to get away and broke into a convenience store to hide from the cops. He was confronted by the owner and instead of alerting the authorities to his location, the man took him in, giving him a place to live and a job.

It wasn’t much but it was something and it allowed Seungmin to start over. His old crew were all rounded up and seeing as no one knew who Seungmin actually was, they were never able to turn him in. He was safe. For now.

Seungmin ended up taking the last name of the man who took him in, a man who simply went by Mr. Kim, and came to regard him almost as a father figure. Mr. Kim owned a small convenience shop off the beaten path. Seungmin was given a room in the small apartment above the shop where Mr. Kim lived alone. 

His life had gone quiet but a sort of disquiet had settled over him, not knowing where he was going or what he was going to do with his life. He simply was going through the motions of life.

Until he met you.

You had come crashing into his life. Quite literally.

He’d been walking down the sidewalk on a particularly gray and gloomy day, running errands for Mr. Kim, when he heard a high pitched scream. It wasn’t a scream of terror or fear. It was more like a shriek of excitement. It was playful in nature.

Seungmin didn’t have time to even respond when he heard a voice screaming at him to move out of the way. He turned, finding someone on a pink bicycle hurtling towards him. “BRAKES! HIT THE BRAKES!” someone had cried but despite the brakes being squeezed, you still managed to crash into him.

It wasn’t like you were going all that fast, but it was enough to knock the wind out of him as you toppled off the bike onto him, pinning him to the sidewalk as the bike flipped over without your weight on it. You let out a groan, pushing yourself up and glancing towards the mangled heap that was your bike.

Seungmin stared up at you, blinking as he tried to process exactly what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “I’m so sorry!” You quickly scrambled up, pulling him into a sitting position. You panicked, inspecting him all over, asking a plethora of questions. 

“What hurts?!” Nothing.

“Are you bleeding?” No.

“Did you hit your head?” Yes.

Your introduction to him was as violent as they come but his life completely turned around after meeting you. He finally had someone else to talk to. Someone he could spend time with outside of the convenience store and upon meeting you, Mr. Kim urged him to spend more time with you.

Your friendship grew, blossoming naturally over a short period of time and after knowing you for nearly a year, Seungmin couldn’t imagine his life without you.

You were vibrant, full of life, eccentric, and ecstatic about everything. You never seemed to have a bad day in the entire time Seungmin knew you and he found your optimism a refreshing new outlook that he started to adopt into his own life.

Of course, while you were very bright, bubbly, and vivacious, you were also extremely bratty. Seungmin often had to argue with you about things he thought he’d never have to argue with anyone about. Making sure you took medicine when you were sick was a chore and Seungmin came to realize you were only a brat because it pushed his buttons.

Especially today.

Mr. Kim had given him the day off and so he was at your place, a cute little studio apartment on the 14th floor of your building. It had an exposed brick exterior wall and floor to ceiling windows that spanned almost the entire wall. Outside the window was a fire escape where you had lots of plants as well as smaller potted plants sitting in the window. Your bed was sectioned off with a large cube storage unit and sheer curtains.

The living area was small and cozy with a flat screen television, a cream colored loveseat with lots of blankets and pillows. A coffee table that doubled as a dining table stood between the couch and the media center where you kept your gaming consoles and collection of games and movies.

The kitchen was also small. White cabinets hung on the walls where you kept your dishes. An island with a sink separated the kitchen from the living area and at the bar of the island stood three bar height chairs. Seungmin had arrived early, bringing food and drinks but they had long run out and you were whining at him to get more.

He sat on your couch, feet resting on the coffee table despite your insistence to remove them. You sat on the other cushion, next to him, wrapped up in your favorite blanket. Seungmin had arrived as you were opening your windows, saying it was a nice day out — it wasn’t, it was freezing — and that you and your plants needed the fresh air.

Despite insisting it was a nice day, you had immediately wrapped yourself in your blanket and curled up next to him on the couch, sapping the warmth from his body, not that he exactly minded. You had exhausted your movie library, picking the things you either hadn’t seen in a long time or at all which wasn’t much. 

Streaming services didn’t provide much of a difference in options so for the last hour, you’d been playing games on your phones, showing each other silly videos while enjoying the other’s presence. You’d finally grown bored of your game and were now pestering Seungmin into leaving to go get more snacks and drinks. 

“Why don’t we get food instead?” he asked as his little avatar died on screen and he shut the game off. “I think we need actual food, Y/N,” he added, locking the screen of his phone and turning his head to look at you. The urge to smile came over him because you looked sort of ridiculous wrapped up in your blanket so only your face was showing.

“But I don’t wanna!” you protested. “That means I have to get up.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, throwing his head back against the back of the couch. “You’re so impossible,” he sighed before getting up with a groan. “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out. You shook your head, pulling your blanket tighter around you.

“Yah,” Seungmin said, giving you a playful but stern glare. “Get up,” he said, moving to stand in front of you, towering over your seated form. You shook your head wordlessly, staring up at him. He grabbed your blanket, tugging at it in an attempt to get you to listen. “No!” you squealed as he tried to pull the blanket harder. “You’re gonna rip it!”

Seungmin tugged harder. “Then let go so it doesn’t rip,” he countered. You glared at him. “It’s my blanket!” you reminded him. Seungmin tugged harder and you could have sworn you heard the material start to rip and so you let out a panicked whine and let go, allowing Seungmin to pull the blanket away.

“Alright,” he said, wading up the blanket and throwing it onto your bed. “Let’s go!”

You shivered, your once warm skin now exposed to the cool air filtering in from outside. “It’s cold!” you whined, curling in on yourself. Seungmin rolled his eyes and walked over. “Then get up and get changed,” he said, holding out his hand. You hesitated before taking his hand and then quickly tugging him towards you.

Unprepared, he lost his balance and fell onto the couch on top of you as you giggled, immediately hugging onto him like a koala. “So warm,” you murmured. Seungmin groaned trying to pull away from you but unsuccessfully. It wasn’t like you were all that strong, he just liked to indulge in some skinship with you from time to time.

“Okay,” Seungmin said. “You warm?” he asked. You nodded, smiling contentedly at him. “Good,” he said softly. “Now get up.” He tried again to pull away but you whined, holding onto him tighter so when he tried to get up, you moved with him.

“Y/N,” he scolded. “I’m not going to ask again. Get up.”

You looked up at him and he could see it before you even replied. A defiance in your eyes. 

“Make me.”

He didn’t know if it was because of your continuance to press his buttons mixed with the obvious tension between the two of you, but your resistance and disobedience made something in him snap. He quickly pulled your arms from around his neck, pinning you under him on the couch.

Your giggles died immediately as he leaned over you. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. This was a side of him you hadn’t seen before nor had he planned on sharing but you really, really liked to push his buttons. 

Seungmin hesitated as he looked down at you, assessing whether or not he’d taken things too far but the look in your eyes, while being one of surprise, was also a look of eagerness and he could tell then that you wanted this as much as he did. 

He leaned in closer, testing your reaction, wondering if he should stop and when your eyes dipped down to look at his lips, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours for the first time. 

Your stomach fluttered as his lips moved against yours. It was entirely new but it felt completely right. Your lips parted at the same time, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You let out a soft moan, muffled by his mouth, as his thigh pressed against your cloth covered crotch.

Seungmin pulled away, lips ghosting over your ear. “Do that again,” he whispered, pressing his thigh against you again. You muffled your moan, biting into your bottom lip. Seungmin scoffed as he reached up, using his thumb to gently pull your lip from between your teeth. “You’re such a brat.”

You opened your mouth to respond and at that exact moment, he grinded his thigh against you, making you whimper. “It’s so much nicer when you listen to me,” he sighed, nuzzling into your neck. He let go of your wrists, moving his hands down to your sides.

“Are you still going to be a brat and fight me or are you gonna let me make you feel good?”

You whined in response as his hands cupped your chest over your shirt. “I take it that’s a yes?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You nodded eagerly. Seungmin let out a low chuckle, hands sliding down your stomach until he could curl his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.

“Then these need to come off,” he murmured, pulling them down slowly past your thighs as you lifted your hips. He discarded them on the floor behind the couch, eyes drinking in your naked lower half. “Lace?” he asked, looking up from the crimson material to meet your gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown as he moved his hands up your thighs towards your hips. “Be honest,” he said as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Did you wear these for me?” You giggled as his tongue traced a line up your skin. “No,” you giggled. Seungmin pulled away with a slight frown.

“You mean you just wear these for no reason other than to wear them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded silently, letting out a gasp when Seungmin delivered a sharp smack to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t lie to me,” he snapped.

“You don’t wear anything uncomfortable for long periods of time without a purpose,” he continued. “You told me so yourself.” A small smile spread across your face as you looked up at him, hands still resting by your head where he left them. “You always listen to everything I say?” you asked as his eyes wandered back down to the red material that barely covered anything.

“Yes,” he said simply, moving his hands up your sides, pushing the hem of your shirt up to just under your breast. He met your gaze once more. “Are you wearing a matching set?” he asked, tilting his head like a curious puppy. You giggled, shaking your head. His eyes narrowed. “If you’re lying to me, there will be consequences, you know that, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I know.”

Seungmin held your gaze as he pushed the shirt up over the swell of your breast, exposing the incriminating evidence of your red lace bralette. He made a tsk sound as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the sight of the red contrasting with your skin, your nipples visible through the sheer material. He looked back up to meet your gaze. “You lied to me, again,” he muttered.

You watched with excited eyes as he sat back on his heels, looking down at you. “I told you there would be consequences,” he added. “I know,” you said softly. Seungmin sighed as he shifted on the couch so he was sitting before holding out a hand for you to take. “Are you going to be good and take your punishment or am I going to have to force you?”

You took his hand, allowing him to pull you up and over his lap so you were lying on your stomach. You felt one of his hands move to your ass, fingers skimming over the lace as he inspected the sight. His other arm held you down. One of his fingers slid under the material of your panties, sliding it over to expose your cheek.

“I want you to count,” he said softly as his hand returned to your bare cheek. “How many?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. Seungmin looked up from your ass, meeting your eyes with his. He had a dark look in them, something that both excited and sent a chill down your spine.

“Until I say so.”

By the time Seungmin finally did tell you to stop counting, your ass was sore. The skin burned and your body was aching, as was your cunt. You needed release and you were practically dripping. “Seungmin,” you whined. “I need release.”

Seungmin scoffed, moving his hand to pull your panties aside while he traced your folds with two fingers, spreading them slowly. The cool air against your hot cunt felt both foreign but oddly wonderful. “So needy,” Seungmin murmured, sliding the tips of his fingers between your lips, gathering your wetness before slowly pushing them into your hole.

You let out a pornographic moan, the sound resonating around the apartment. Seungmin felt his cock twitch in his pants, straining against the material of his underwear and aching to be freed. ‘Not yet,’ he told himself. ‘Not until Y/N proves she can behave.’ 

You moaned loudly as he pumped his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, lightly scissoring them and curling them against your walls. “Seungmin. More,” you gasped, making him chuckle. “More?” he asked. “I have two fingers stuffed in you and that’s not enough?”

You shook your head as he sped up. He delivered a sharp smack to your sore ass. “Words, kitten,” he cooed. “N-no!” you stammered. “No you don’t want to use words?” he asked. “No!” you said quickly. “It’s not enough! I need more!” you clarified. Seungmin shook his head. “Such a greedy little baby.”

He obliged, giving you a third finger, opening you up to take his cock easily but he wasn’t about to give it to you that quickly. Your moans grew in pitch and volume as he fucked you with his fingers. He could feel you start to shake, your walls clenching rhythmically around him. “Don’t you fucking cum yet,” he growled, pulling his fingers from your hole, making you whine in protest.

“But Minnie!” you complained. He nudged you, signaling you to sit up. “Do you want me to fuck you here, on your couch, or over there,” he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards your bed. “Where I’m sure it’s much more comfortable.”

You grumbled softly as he got up, grabbing your hand and all but dragging you over to the bed, stepping up onto the small platform upon which your bed stood.

He turned your back towards the bed, moving his hands to quickly strip you of your shirt and bralette. “Sit,” he instructed but you didn’t listen, instead trying to pull at his clothes. He grabbed your hands, bringing your wrists together to hold with one hand and grabbing your chin with the other.

“If you don’t listen to me, I won’t let you cum at all, understand?” You nodded quickly and as soon as he let go, you sat on the bed, looking up at him. “Good, kitten,” he said, cupping your chin, moving his thumb to brush over your bottom lip. “I need you to do something for me,” he said, moving his hands to undo his buckle. “And then I promise I’ll make you feel really good”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on his as he unzipped his pants. “Do me a favor and put that mouth to good use, yeah?” he asked, pushing his jeans down past his hips. Your eyes roamed down his body, taking in the outline of his hard cock behind the dark blue color of his underwear. 

You could see it was straining against the fabric, begging to be freed. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull the front of his boxer briefs down. Seungmin quickly grabbed your hands, stopping you. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, the dominant persona he’d taken on dissipating for a moment as he gave you a look of concern. You nodded, giving him a smile.

“Just nervous,” you whispered. He caressed your cheek gently. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he said softly. “It’s just me.” You nodded, swallowing thickly as you returned your attention to the task before you.

Your fingers snuck under the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in one swift motion and freeing his cock. You stared at it in awe, saliva starting to pool in your mouth at the sight of it bobbing before you. Wrapping your fingers around the base of the shaft, you looked up at Seungmin for confirmation to keep going. He merely nodded, watching as your lips parted and you gave the tip of his cock a kitten lick. He let out a hiss but was unable to catch his breath as you immediately went back in, tongue swirling around his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut as your mouth enveloped his cock, taking it as far as you could in one go. “You’ve done this before,” he groaned as you pulled back, cheeks hollowing as you sucked. Seungmin let out a sigh as you took him back into your mouth, the tip of his cock barely brushing the back of your throat.

“Keep going, baby,” he murmured, resting his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer. You gagged as the head of his cock tried to push into your throat. “Shit,” he gasped as he let go and you pulled back, coughing. “Sorry,” he murmured. “We can stop if you’d — oh fuck!”

His words were cut off when you took his cock back into your mouth, keeping your hand firmly wrapped around the base as you started to bob your head, taking everything up until you hand. Seungmin let out a choked moan, throwing his head back as you continued to suck him off, now moving your hand as you pulled back.

You let his cock fall from your mouth, continuing to stroke him quickly. Too quickly. He had to stop you before he came. He didn’t want to cum on your face or chest or in your mouth. “S-st-stop,” he stammered, moving his hand to try and grab yours but missing. “Y/N,” he said, a little more firmly. “Baby, stop.” You finally looked up at him, hand stalling but his cock still firmly in your grasp.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked as he pulled your hand off him and slowly knelt down at the edge of your bed. “No,” he murmured, pulling you into a kiss. “You were perfect. I just wasn’t ready to finish,” he added. “Lay back,” he instructed.

As you laid back against the soft material of your comforter, Seungmin took that opportunity to rid himself of his clothes. You started to scoot back towards the middle of the bed but he stopped you. “Here,” he said softly. “I want your ass hanging over the edge of the bed.”

You pouted at him. “But I’ll fall,” you protested. He shook his head as he knelt down. “Just trust me, angel. Do as I say or am I going to have to punish you again?” You shook your head, moving until your hips were hanging off the edge of the bed. You watched as he slipped your panties off before he shrugged your legs over his shoulders, his hands grabbing your hips and holding them in place as he licked his lips.

“Minnie,” you cooed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his dark hair. He looked up at you, his dark gaze meeting yours and making a fresh wave of arousal course through you. “Can’t you just fuck me?” you asked as sweetly as possible. Seungmin chuckled, shaking his head. “No,” he answered. You frowned at him. “Why not? You’ll find I’m more than ready to take it,” you answered.

Seungmin merely chuckled again. “No,” he answered again. “I want a taste first.” 

The words on the tip of your tongue died as you felt him spread your folds and his tongue run from your hole to your clit. The moment his tongue met the nub, he sucked on it, making your thighs involuntarily try to close around his head but he moved his hands, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold them open and keeping you firmly in place.

You were left to the mercy of his tongue as his mouth ravaged your clit. One of your hands moved to grab the bedding by your head in a tight fist while the other combed through Seungmin’s hair, grabbing a handful of the locks. Each time he flicked his tongue, your body jerked and you cried out. 

“M-Minnie. M’gonna cum!”

Seungmin pulled back and you whined only to receive a slap to your pussy which made you gasp, thighs twitching. “You don’t cum until I say so, understand?” You nodded quickly, your orgasm slowly slipping away. Seungmin’s mouth returned, attacking your clit with quick flicks of his tongue until the sensation started to rise again, tension building in your stomach.

“Minnie, I’m close,” you warned him. “Hold it back,” he retorted. “Don’t make me punish you again.”

You bit your tongue, trying to will away the tension and the building orgasm. “I-I don’t think I can,” you sobbed. Seungmin pulled back, delivering another slap to your sex. “Such an impatient and greedy kitten,” he snapped. “Can’t even wait a minute more.”

“Just fuck me then,” you retorted. Seungmin scoffed, almost mockingly. “Oh no,” he said, landing another slap on your clit. “Not until you beg.” You whimpered. If that was all he needed, you could do that. “You should have just said so,” you gasped. “Please Seungmin. Please give me your cock. I want it. I need it.” 

“You need it, huh?” Seungmin asked, brushing his fingers over your clit languidly. He wasn’t trying to bring you to climax, simply giving you some friction while he listened to you. 

“How bad do you want it?”

“I want it so bad, please,” you sobbed. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do everything you say but please Minnie, please fuck me.” You needed him inside you so bad and you weren’t above begging if that’s what he wanted you to do. “One more time,” he cooed. “What do you want?”

“I want your cock, Seungmin. I want you to fuck me!” you snapped. Seungmin moved quickly, letting your legs fall back as he climbed over you. “Middle of the bed, on your hands and knees, now,” he growled. You scrambled to get up, moving into place and presenting yourself to him. He kneeled behind you, hands grabbing your ass and kneading.

“I’m going to fuck you how I want to,” he started as he leaned over your back, the tip of his cock brushing against the inside of your thigh. “If it’s too much for you, say ‘pitcher’s mound,’ understand?” he asked. You nodded. A smack rang out as he landed a slap to your ass over the same side he’d made sore earlier.

“Words, kitten. We use our words,” he snapped. “Yes, sir!” you gasped out, your backside burning. He gently ran his hand over the spot soothingly. “What do you say if you need me to stop?” he asked, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. “Pitcher’s mound,” you replied softly. You felt him press a tender kiss to your shoulder. “Good,” he cooed.

You felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance and without any resistance, he pushed into you. Once the head was firmly lodged inside you, he snapped his hips, pulling you back to meet his thrust and filling you with one stroke.

You cried out in both pleasure and pain as he buried his cock to the hilt inside you. Seungmin still, thumbs rubbing circular patterns into your skin as he held your hips. He waited for the spasming of your walls to cease before he pulled back, giving you a shallow thrust which made you moan softly.

“Any pain?” he asked quietly. “No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Good,” Seungmin said simply, tightening his hold on your hips. “Remember your safeword,” he reminded you. 

“Cause I’m not stopping until you’re screaming.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[maespri]

like a dog

hi i'm just joesara posting. that's all this is. like. man i love joesara. i can see them both romantically and platonically and either way their relationship is just. so beautifully devastating.

like here is sara, who is always doubting herself. and then joe, who's always countering her self-loathing. sara, who thinks she's too intense and hurts people too much. joe, who tells her that it isn't always a bad thing. sara who can't forgive herself for his death, who blames herself for pointing out that he wasn't the sage, who begged miley to let her switch places with him. and joe, who just tells her she's his best friend and he loves her when he's about to die. who tells everyone they're his friends, that he doesn't blame them.

joe, who carried around a dog keychain sara got him in his pocket for ages, who has accessories with bones on them, who tells sara he will stay loyal to her, "like a dog." who walked back to school after going on a date with her best friend, a date during which he just talked about her, because he knew she was scared of her stalker, who went to the fair with her in her minisode because of the same reason. this guy who sees her "flaws" as her strengths and supports her in whatever she decides to do.

i think the fact that she doesn't realize just how important he was to her until after he's gone is what gets me. he was always telling her she's his best friend, but it's not until she's talking to a robot version of him that she finally gets to reciprocate that, and i just know she'll always be carrying around so many "i wish i told him"s in her heart. but what i think is also so beautiful about her overcoming some of that grief and moving toward acceptance (at least in the emotion route) is that she realizes joe wouldn't blame her.

and i don't think it's entirely because of his AI. it's because she knew him.

sure, it's his AI that tells her that- but sara is well aware that isn't him. what she does finally realize in that moment, however, is that the real joe would forgive her. that he wouldn't be mad at her. that he doesn't blame her because that's not the kind of person he is. she forgives herself because of her own internal strength and memories. she forgives herself because he loved her no matter what.

and she keeps going. she lets go of the blame, but she doesn't lose those good memories she had with him. she lets what she learned from him strengthen her rather than hold her back. she internalizes the same things he always said to her and uses it to become better herself, to uplift the people around her who are still alive. she decides she's going to do everything she can to keep everyone alive because she doesn't want anyone to go through the same thing she did after losing joe. he's carrying her, he's carrying the narrative, long after he dies. spreading goodness.

they're eternally devoted to each other, even beyond the grave.

i Just played her minisode for myself (after watching it some time ago) and i was struck with all these thoughts about them once again. i think what especially gets me is the fact that i think sara did have a crush on him and just. didn't have enough time to sort through her own thoughts, or tell him. there are so many moments, both in her minisode and in the game, where i think it shines through. and that's just another "what-if?" she may not realize for a while, but will always be in the back of her head.

i don't think grief is nearly as... "simple," for lack of a better word, as it's kind of shown in your turn to die. i do love the portrayal of it for what the situation dictates, but if/when sara ends up getting out of the game, and all the survival instinct wanes and she has time to fully process it... i feel so bad for her. there's nothing that won't remind her of him. there's nothing she won't miss. there's nothing she won't wonder about. all of that, it just. god it all makes me so sad.

i don't like when people say "move on" when referring to grief. i think that implies leaving it behind, and if you ever really love something, i don't think it's possible to just put it down and leave it there. but i do hope it gets easier for her to carry it around with her the same way it briefly began to in the death game.

anyway. in the end, it really just comes down to a very simple tragedy; two best friends who would do anything for each other only having the option of doing nothing.

yeah i'll be thinking about them for a while

[newtafterdark]

I’m not sure if it’s a good time to ask this, but after seeing @mrultra100’s post about the matter, what was your history with the Dr. Crafty show? And what kind of history did you have with the creator?

Ah, I see folks are talking about the whole mess on here now too? (As an important sidenote: I talked about it in length on my Twitter, but I privated my account and don't plan on ever using it again.)

For those who don't know, this is in reference to the Youtuber and VTuber that went by the alias "Dr. Crafty", also known as Alexander "Alex" Tansley.

The short of it is that I used to work for him for around two years and thought of him as a friend - until I reached the point of realizing that something was very wrong with having the man close to myself and my friends.

Basically, after making some fanart of some of the characters from his show, Crafty and I got in contact and it became what I thought was a fun friendship that developed throughout the months. Now I know better and I know he has a pattern of "befriending" people to get things out of them.

Around the end of 2018 I brought up that I'd be happy to help out with his show if he ever needed help… and that lead to me creating all of the "Questionable Qloset" tarot cards. (Which he put up on his Red Bubble without asking me. If there was ever money made with them, I never saw a cut.)

I was not doing well mentally at the time at all, hell, I worked on the tarot cards while being in medical rehab and he still was pushy for me to finish them way earlier than we had agreed on. But at this point I am not surprised that he took avantage of my less than great mental state. It seems to be a pattern for him, having read several testimonies.

That work unfortunately also lead to me being one of the absolutely overworked employees during the creation of the "I Need A Hero Academia" finale for his show. I was tasked to colour, shade and add effects to the storyline bits of one full episode of that three-part finale, and some bits in the third episode, along with coloring two short animations. Close to 200 illustrations coloured. 90 bucks for all of that work. And burned out at the end of it all. A nightmare.

I also was responsible for designing the Infinia Relics and big villain at the end of the series, but aside from one glimpse of her, that design mostly remained unused.

Along with that I was also partially responsible for the core idea behind "Shakeup Saloon", as I had the idea for the host character - but Crafty took my idea and warped it into something almost unreconizable. He also never credited the person who gave him the idea for the show itself in the first place, Nero (of "ToonGrin"), one of his editiors at the time.

In general, Crafty hated crediting us for all the work we did to make his shows a reality. I had to beg for myself and my co-worker Zaz (who did the lineart I colored) in the finale to be even credited in the last video of the three parter. We didn't even get credited on the video we did the most work on.

So… in general, looking back it was an exhausting work experience.

My personal gripes with him mirror the behavior you might've heard from a multitude of folks on Twitter last month.

Unwanted pushing to do NSFW rp (and me telling him off multiple times, but he would try again multiple times) and trying to do the same with anyone he perceived as female in my private discord server. If you were AFAB, he'd try to slide into your DMs, basically. Which also goes hand in hand with him completely disreguarding that I am a trans man and drawing me with an hour glass figure and needing to be reminded to not draw me with massive tits. It just felt like if he percieved you as a women, he'd use you for his own entertainment as he saw fit. It just took me too long to realize that. Still, I managed to completely cut contact with him in 2020.

All in all, Crafty was a shitty boss and a creep who pretended to be my friend. And that's all I'll say on that matter on here.

Don't waste your energy on thinking about Crafty. Support his victims and let them heal.

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

From the Keeper of the Tales

CW: Death, mention of alcohol.

Note: This is a long one. Also, I would like to preface something for my own sake. If you are uninterested, you may skip directly to the tale. It's under the keep reading tab.

I am writing this out because I have recently suffered some terrible heartbreak... which you may have guessed from reading my writings featuring one I call, "Señor." Everything finally came to a head earlier this week and now we are no contact. Although it is an answered prayer because the cycle has finally ended, it still hurts. It hurts so much.

As I heal from this, I am going back through the wisdom I have received from the gods and Landvættir, since hindsight is 20/20. I offer this wisdom to you all as well, given to me by a kind spirit some weeks ago. I hope you may find some benefit. And whatever heartbreak, hardships, or suffering you are currently going through, I am praying that you will find relief. If it's any consolation from a stranger on the internet, Daughters, Sons, and Children: I love you. Please keep going.

ᛉ

In Southern Illinois, there is a state park known as Garden of the Gods. It is a beautiful park with amazing views that you would not expect to find in a state like Illinois. Although it is quite a drive for me (about 1.5 hours), I find myself going there often. It reminds me so much of where my family is from in Appalachia. My most popular writing, a hail to the Spirit of the Mountain and Landvættir, was written for that land. The Landvættir there introduced themselves to me as a herd of deer. I offer them incense whenever I can.

A few weeks ago, I went to the Garden of the Gods to present an offering but also just to connect with the spirits some more. I found a cool, shaded rock that was away from the main touristy crowds and sat down to try and connect with the spirits. Using twigs scattered on the rock, I made the rune of Algiz (ᛉ) and offered the incense.

After a few moments of meditating on Algiz, I heard the Landvættir speak: "Go deeper into the woods." I extinguished the incense and did so. I followed the main hiking trail until I found a not-so-trodden path veering to the left. I went off course (what I thought was off course, I should say) going downhill a good way, until I found a dried up ravine. I followed it to the left some more until I realized it was leading back up and around. I was going in a circle. Okay, cool, I guess. I started to trek back uphill (ugh) until I was stopped dead in my tracks as I came across a rock that was shaped as a human ear.

"Wait and listen," I heard the Landvættir say. It was a beautiful resting area as the sun was waning in the afternoon sky. I lit the incense and offered it to the rock, introducing myself, and asked permission to sit on the boulder in front. I felt acceptance of the sage and permission to do so. So, I sat. And I waited. For what, I wasn't quite sure. All I could gather was this was a place to sit and wait to hear something.

I saw many beautiful things as I sat and waited. There was a Luna Moth that flew and stopped at every tree. Earthly deer herds were making their way through. Crows and birds were singing their songs. Even if nothing was going to happen, it was nice to take a pause and appreciate the beauty of the area. I'm not quite sure how long I sat there before The Keeper of the Tales approached me.

As I was growing stiff and considering getting up to leave, the presence of... a man, perhaps, sat opposite of me. I sat with my back turned to the ear rock and he sat facing it. Startled, I greeted him(? I'm honestly not sure what gender this spirit was or if he even conformed to a binary, but it felt like a masculine presence so for this recounting, I will refer to the spirit as he/him) and he returned the greeting. I shouldn't have been surprised that he already knew my name.

Without warning, after his greeting, he immediately went into a tale of wisdom. Below is a transcription of the tale written to the best of my memory and as I heard and understood it:

In a herd of deer, a doe gave birth to twin fawns. It was a rare occurrence and unexpected, for this doe was in the line of elders that would oversee the protection and sanctity of the herd. Her son would replace the elders who passed on—but there were two! The elders gathered to discuss how they were to handle this situation because it was unprecedented. After much deliberation and council, they decided on the fate of the twins: when they grew up into manhood and their antlers had come in, they would fight each other to the death. The winner would take their rightful place as leader of the herd. The loser would be gored by the other.

When the mother of the twins heard this, she was greatly displeased. Being wise in her own eyes, she decided that she would not prepare the twins for this upcoming battle. She would work hard to keep them from fighting with each other by teaching them to greatly respect and love each other as brothers should. That way, when the time would come for them to fight, they would not. Their lives were not worth the leadership role.

As the twins grew, so did their tempers. As much as the mother of the twins taught them about love, peace, and brotherhood, she could not keep them from fighting amongst each other. It was in their very nature to quarrel, it seemed. Despite their quarrels, the twin brothers still loved and respected each other very much. They carried this within them to the time of their manhood, when their antlers grew in. Their mother still kept their destiny hidden from them until she could hide it no more.

As their antlers grew full, the elders were crossing over. It was time to pass on the leadership to the next generation. It was time for the twins to face their destiny. The remaining elders approached the twins and told them it was time to face each other in battle. The twins were surprised and therefore unprepared for this. Fight my own brother? To the death? Never. They couldn’t possibly do such a thing. But something stirred within their souls—the call of destiny, perhaps? Or their egos? They knew that this had to be done because the herd could not continue without a leader to guide them. Each brother felt that they were fit to take on the title and were willing to fight the other for the sake of the title. But they cursed their mother for keeping this hidden from them for they were both unprepared to take on such a task.

And so, the twins fought. Because neither had a chance to train, to prepare, to seek council for this tournament, one was not able to overpower the other. Their antlers remained twisted, tangled amongst each other. They were deadlocked. Their power was equal as if of one buck. They remained this way for seven days and seven nights, until, finally, they both collapsed from exhaustion and died. Their mother failed to prepare a winner for their destined encounter and so the herd was leaderless—much to their detriment. The remaining elders were also unprepared, for they expected a leader to rise from the quarrel, but they died without passing their heritage to the next generation. Therefore, the herd was scattered, to each their own and without the protection of all.

Well, that was depressing.

The spirit must have known my questioning of why this tale was spoken and so he turned and asked me, "What is your interpretation of this tale?" I sat there for a moment in silence, processing what I just heard. Immediately, my human mind wanted to question the plot holes, the nihilistic and pessimistic worldview, and why this has anything to do with me.

I replied, "Well, the mother took away the twin's opportunity to prepare for their fated encounter," I began thinking aloud, "The elders could have come up with a different solution–surely, there could be two rulers. I mean, there were multiple elders! And the twins could have chosen not to fight. They could have let the herd break apart while they saved themselves. There were so many different ways to handle this."

"Of course, how can one truly prepare for what they will face in this life?" The spirit asked, "Is wisdom gained through knowledge or experience?"

"Both," I responded. "Right? It has to be both."

"Is what you experience the same as somebody else?" he asked. "Would two people who have the same knowledge but different life experiences be prepared to do the exact same thing with the exact same enthusiasm?"

I didn't respond. It felt as if the spirit took a deep breath in, and then said, "You appear to have a lot of experiences you were not prepared for. You've also encountered people who have judged you harshly for handling the situations the way that you have..." another inhale, "and will. They are aware but not experienced in the same way you are. My dear, knowledge is knowing that alcohol can be deadly, and those who abuse it can wreak great havoc on those around them. Wisdom is understanding why the alcohol is being abused to begin with as you, yourself, stare down the neck of the bottle."

I felt my lip quiver but held back the onslaught of emotions coming through. "Sir, what is your point?"

I couldn't see his physical form, but I could feel his smile as he said, "My point is sometimes, there is no right or wrong answer. Only what is, and we won't know until we're in the moment itself what is right and what is wrong. What is right for you could be wrong for the other person... in the moment."

"So, what we feel is right could change as we gain wisdom?" I asked. I felt a hand grip my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. "Sir, what is your name?"

"You can call me The Keeper of the Tales."

"...Thank you."

And with that, the presence left me. I sat there for a minute longer on my own, digesting the experience. Then, I thanked the rock, the Landvættir for guiding me to that place, and then I continued upward and back toward humanity.

ᛉ

You have made it to the end.

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

He calls me his little hypno pet...

And to be fair, that’s a pretty accurate description for what I am, but before you go and picture me on all fours mindlessly mewling like a cat in heat or barking like a dog with one of those anal tails sticking out my rear, you should know that ‘pet’ doesn’t refer to that at all. That term simply refers to our dynamic.

Just like any regular pet, he owns me, trains me, plays with me and takes care of all my needs. 

Our relationship started out like any other, however, unlike most, we soon discovered that we both enjoyed power play dynamics and that lead us to very interesting things in the bedroom. I already enjoyed feeling submissive and as we got more comfortable, that feeling only blossomed as he allowed himself to be more and more dominant with me.

In the past, whenever I finally confided in my lover that I loved to be submissive, they always tended to dive into a bondage mentality and to be fair, I loved it. With my Owner though, that wasn’t at all what his first instincts told him to do. Not that he didn’t enjoy his authority in the bedroom, but his true desire turned out to be so different and surprising that I couldn’t help but feel excited when we decided to try it.

Like most of you, the first thing that popped into my mind when he said he wanted to turn me into his pet was an imagine of me on all fours like some sort of animal. I didn’t think that was something I could do for him and he actually laughed when I told him as much. When I asked him what was so funny, he calmly told me that I missed the point.

What he wanted from me wasn’t to make me ACT like an animal, but like a loving pet.

I didn’t understand the difference until he suggested we spent an evening as owner and pet. My sole job for the evening was to question myself before I took any sort of action by asking myself: “What would a pet do in this situation?” 

We agreed that it would start the moment he got home from work so, as I asked myself the question, I realized that a typical pet would be joyous about their owner’s return and happily great them at the door. I felt a little foolish to do it, but I went to him as soon as opened the door and showered him with kisses. Thankfully, my joy was actually very real so it wasn’t hard to play the part.

All evening, I found myself asking that question again and again before I did anything and slowly but surely, I realized that pets acted on emotion and more specifically, they lived IN the moment. I didn’t have hypnosis back then to help me get into that mind set, but I strove to push out any thoughts that didn’t concern the immediate present.

As for my man, he acted out his role perfectly and treated me as if I was his beloved pet. He played with me... Petted me... Snuggled with me... Washed me from head to toe... Dried and combed my hair... Commanded me when he needed me to follow him... Everything he did made me feel like I was his dog or cat without actually being one.

Because even if he acted as if I was his animal companion, he didn’t consider me less of a human and talked with me as if nothing about our night was different. It was a strange thing to experience for sure, but through it I felt cherished and loved in a way I had never felt before with others that dominated me.

I had experienced what being a submissive ‘slave’ was and as we enjoyed a very carnal end to our little experimental evening, I couldn’t help but think that being a pet felt a lot better...

Not that I had bad Doms before, but the power dynamic, which was basically the same, felt completely different.

Since our night had been a positive success, we repeated it a few times and eventually, he told me about his kink for hypnosis. We had long talks about how it could help me get into a better mindset, but also about the different ‘tricks’ he could slowly train into me.

I have to say that I was more than a little skeptical, but thankfully, I was willing to try.

I turned out to be a rather receptive subject and after a few weeks of getting me used to how it felt to be in a trance, he began to help me become the pet we both wanted me to be. Things were slow going at first, but as I got more comfortable and my mind reacted more readily to his different triggers and suggestion, I quickly realized that being hypnotically played with turned me on just as much as it did him. 

Eventually, he told me that if I was willing, he wanted to push things further and use hypnosis to ‘force’ my mind into a pet mind that would feel so natural to me that I wouldn’t need to constantly ask myself ‘what would a pet do?’. It was a big step and after a lot of talks on how that could work, we decided that my collar would act like as the trigger my mind needed to block out the rest of the world and plunge my mind into the present.

It took a LONG while, but little by little, I felt my mind shrink down more and more when ever I wore my special collar. Honestly, it was a little worrisome the first time I completely found myself reduce to a bundle of emotions and wants, but it was also incredibly liberating to just BE in the moment.

When I wear my collar, my whole universe boils down to 2 things: My Owner and my physical needs.

I don’t think about my job, the rent, up coming events or the news. All my mind can focus on is the moment I’m in. I don’t think about how i got there and I certainly don’t think too much about what comes later on. My mind can only remember the last 10 minutes and will only allowed itself to wonder about the next 5. Everything else simply doesn’t exist for me when I’m able to dive down into that state of mind.

Unless I was trained to restrain myself, every single want or desire I have becomes the main motivation of my moment. 

I feel hungry? I go to my Owner and ask him to feed me. 

I feel tired? I go to my Owner and cuddle up to him for a nap.

I feel playful? I go to my Owner and prank him with little things until he turns his attention to me and plays with me.

I feel sad? I go to my Owner for comfort.

I feel aroused? I go to my Owner and mold my body to his until he either orders me to stop or makes use of my heated body.

Sometimes my desires don’t sit well with my Owner and he punishes me when I’m too insistant. Other times, I’m not quite in the mood for his plans, but obeying my Owner as he trains or starts to play with me always ends up changing my mood for the better because he is my Owner and his attention is what I want most out of my simple life.

I’m his cherished pet in every sense of the word except the obvious and truthfully, I’ve never been happier!

[caffinedragon]

Razzikel(My Tav) and Halsin's first meeting pre game.

This takes place about 50 ish or so years before the shadow curse. If my math is correct.

Before he is an Archdruid but after the events in the Underdark Halsin runs across a large pitch black dire wolf caught in a bear trap.

However, when he tries to approach and speak to it in wolf form, it doesnt seem to understand him, even with beast speech active.

Upon closer inspection he noticed the 1000 yard stare in its amber gold eyes, almost like it was lost inside of its own mind or severly ill.

After Changing out of wild shape to further inspect the beast, he begins to talk to himself in druidic and notices the wolf turning its attention to him like it understands or at least recognizes his speech.

Curious he begins to cycle through all the languages he knows until he gets to Undercommon where the wolfs eyes snap to him and begin to focus.

As they focus, he sees the eyes change color from the amber gold they were, to a deep twilight amethyst.

Worried that he came across one of the apprentices stuck in wild shape, he frees the wolf and takes it back to the grove for healing.

Only, all the spells that should have changed him back dont work and not only that, but his wounded leg seemed to not be healing right.

Over the next fortnight he works tirelessly to help his new friend, bringing all of his healing knowledge to bear but to no avail.

Then one day, nearly a month from when he first found the wolf, while he is preparing the salve to help keep the wound from infection, he turns around to check on them and is startled to find a very handsome but very naked and confused drow man where the wolf had been only a moment ago.

He yells out in surprise, gaining the attention of some of the younger druids nearby who imedietly grab their weapons upon seeing the intruder to their home.

Upon seeing them grab weapons, the drow man snatches a knife off a nearby table and jumps in front of halsin on all fours, growling and snarling at the druids like the wolf did before.

Halsin took no time to realize that the man and the wolf were the same being but was having a heck of a time trying to get the others to believe him.

The commotion eventually attracted the attention of the Archdruid whom was able to calm the situation enough for Halsin to explain what had happened.

Once the Archdruid confirms it by noticing the injury on the mans leg is identical to the injury on the wolf he shoos the others away so Halsin could calm the man down.

Once Halsin is able to calm him and take the knife away he is able to learn four things.

The mans name was Razzikel, he was an escaped slave Ranger from the Underdark, that he was Lythari...

And he had been stuck in that form for close to 15 years.

With this knowledge he knew that his new friend would have no where to go so he asks the Archdruid if he could stay. "The grove could always use a good ranger, don't you agree?"

Once given the okay Halsin rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and got to work helping the man begin the long road to becoming a person again.

A journy that would ultimately change a lot of things for the both of them.

This is the cliff notes version of events i am sharing as a reference for myself should i get around to writing again.

For those of you who dont know what a Lythari is, they are elves that went through a ritual to be able to turn into a wolf, similar in nature to a druids wildshape but limited only to the one form.

Razzikel had it done to save his life from a disease that would have killed him by age 50. He is about 150-160 at the time of these events making Halsin about...185-195. So about...early to mid 20's in comparison for both.

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 25

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide

Summary: YN is taken by the killers and finally meets the doctor

Jason walked over to the Pyg mask, slamming in on the ground over and over, letting it take the anger he was feeling. Then he sat once he was sure that no one was watching anymore, waiting. He saw Tim slowly coming back, looking terrified that Jason might hurt him. Jason stood up and marched over to the teenager and grabbed his shoulders. Tim froze, Dick taking a few steps closer in case he needed to stop Jason from hurting him.

“Is she gone?” Jason asked, voice and face unreadable. Tim nodded slowly. “Did she take the tracking bug with her? And it was functional?” Tim nodded again. Jason nodded back and then stood straight. “Alright, time for part 2.” He seemed fine. They had all just watched the one person who seemed to make Jason be like the old pre-dead Jason again throw her ring at him and walk out, with Tim of all people, and he seemed.

“OK, what the fuck Jason, I need an explanation now,” Dick said. Jason looked around confused before realizing that they all thought it was real. To be fair Jason had thought it was real at first too, until she mentioned Black Mask. That wasn’t his fault, he knew that, and she knew that. YN was many wonderful and sometimes annoying things, but she wasn’t going to throw something in his face that wasn’t his fault. That was when he realized that this had been a plan. They wanted to break her, they break her and then she would break him. It had to look real and after her friends had been killed like that, she had used all that anger and thrown it at him like any normal person would.

“She faked it,” he said. The others looked between each other and then back at him. “Black Mask wasn’t my fault, a dirty cop sold her out to him. But she knows that, I know that, this doctor may not. So she took matters into her own hands because I definitely wouldn’t let her do what she is doing. Too late now though.”

“She pretended to blame you because they were watching,” Bruce said. Jason nodded.

“Hugging me was because they were watching?” Tim said.

“Right again Robin,” Jason said. “All the times I ever said something was my fault, right down to not pulling an alarm to evacuate the lounge before Ivy got there, she threw it back at me, whoever was watching would know that if she said that to me, if she went to my half-ass replacement, I would be broken, would throw myself right into the line of fire for them. But they’re not stupid, they won’t want her changing her mind and coming back to me, so they’ll take YN to wherever they are holed up until they’re ready for their next move.” Tim was already looking at his tablet.

“Transmitter is moving,” he said. Jason nodded. “So she used herself as bait for us to try and get the upper hand on these assholes?”

“Ya, I hate what we’ve done to her,” Jason whispered. “I can’t wait for that vacation.” He went to double check his guns and added a couple blades to his gear as they waited for the tracker to stop moving.

YN really hoped Jason knew that you did not mean a word of what you said. He was smart, he would hopefully catch onto the Black Mask reference, he would know that you were just yelling anything that he could be hurt by. You walked briskly down the driveway of the manor, taking side streets, staying towards lit areas, not wanting whoever was following you to realize that you were onto them. You wanted caught. Huh, you really were becoming more reckless. Maybe Jason was a bad influence.

You almost ignored the sound of footsteps behind you, but that would be suspicious, so you stopped. And the steps stopped. You turned, seeing nothing under the nearby lamplight, yet you could feel them there.

“Just come out already,” you called, gripping the switchblade in your pocket. You took it out, not wanting to make this too easy for them. Finally, the man in the pink suit walked into the light. “That really is a look, not sure what kind, but it’s a look,” you said. You heard a deep, dark chuckle behind you and turned, seeing a very bald man with a knife. You swallowed.

“Don’t worry Lady Red, we’ve been told to take you to your appointment alive,” said the bald man, a sickening smile coming to his face. You took a breath.

“Which one of you cut out their hearts?” you asked. A whisper behind you:

“That would be me.” You turned, slashing and managed to catch the man across the face with your blade. He seethed a little but then laughed as the other two grabbed your arms, forcing the knife from your hands. You kicked and screamed, wanting to tear out his heart, finding the doctor be damned. He just laughed more before injecting you with what you assumed was a sedative. You let darkness take you.

“Come now YN, wake up,” you heard, your eyes still heavy, mind still foggy from whatever that asshole gave you. You shook her head a little, trying to wipe your eyes but finding you hands strapped to the chair. You looked around, four men before you. Pink suit, bald guy, heart cutter, the doctor, and you, the partridge in a pear tree. You were in a doctor’s office, or what once was a doctor’s office. It was in shambles, chairs toppled, lights flickering, papers strewn everywhere. The only thing in order was the old desk, pristine against the dust surrounding it.

“Who are you?” you asked, trying to yank one more time on the straps. The doctor smiled at her, fixing his glasses.

“My name is Dr Hugo Strange,” he said. “And I’ve been following the Batman, or Bruce Wayne, as you know him, for many years now. I’ve been working very hard to understand his drive and the drive of his young followers, find out exactly how far they will go, its been fairly easy, send Flamingo out to assassinate someone, Mr Zsasz could maybe place some false evidence, suggesting Fries or Bane responsible. Then you watch them fight, see what they do, how they solve the case. Nothing was ever enough to break their spirit, their moral code. Not even telling Joker who Batgirl was and watching him paralyze her. The only thing that came close was the death of young Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson almost did it. They beat Joker so much I did think he was going to die, but they stopped. It was disappointing you see, because Pyg of all people had been right. The familial bonds are extraordinary in humans, but the true bond, the only one that really could cause the kind of mental anguish required to destroy these so-called heroes is the soulmate bond.”

You listened, understanding more about these men. They were the catalysts in Gotham, trying to torture the Bats until they either killed everyone around them or themselves. It was disgusting. You swallowed hard but didn’t say anything, refused to make a noise while this ‘doctor’ monologued how amazing he was, how smart, how much he knew about the hero’s psyche.

“So, you see, now that we have you, we will prepare a place for you, make you nice and pretty, and then kill you so that Jason Todd finds you, his precious soulmate. Imagine the carnage that will ensue when that rage he is barely suppressing takes over. No one will survive,” Strange whispered, a sick smile on his face. “Mr Stirk, please take her to the other office, she will need to get dressed for her final gala.”

[spirallingintothevoid71]

For a friend

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

I'd known her since I was young. A family friend so close that used to refer to her as my second mom.

She was always impeccably dressed. Always in heels and hose of some type, unless circumstances didn't allow. Even then, she dressed to impress.

And she always referred to me as her good boy.

As I got older, I started... noticing her more. The first real erection I had was thinking of her.

The first time I masturbated was also her. And though I'd felt terribly ashamed and dirty, I couldn't stop. Couldn't help myself. In fact, it seemed to fuel it.

The more thoughts of her I had, the shyer I became around her. She didn't seem to notice, at least to me, but she seemed to only become kinder, giving me more attention. Sometimes she would ask me about my girlfriends. I wanted to tell her how none compared to her.

Once at dinner I mentioned how Imy current girlfriend had broken up with me. She'd turned and placed a hand on my thigh sympathetically. And I'd become instantly hard.

There was no way she couldn't have noticed, but she just smiled at me and, after a moment, cupped my cheek with her hand.

"It's her loss," she'd said. "I'm sure my good boy will find someone better." My cheeks had burned red with embarrassment.

And I'd throbbed at her touch.

At her words.

Sometimes, she would jokingly flirt with me. And as time went by, I would flirt back.

Once, when she broke up with a beau, I'd commented that any man would be insane to leave such a sexy woman, especially with those legs. The word were out of my mouth before I realized it.

I flushed red instantly, but she'd just smiled and did a little pose, extending one leg with a smile and a thank you.

That had fueled my alone time for weeks.

She couldn't make it when I celebrated my 21st birthday. So she invited me out to dinner a few days later.

I went, telling myself to expect nothing, and be on my best behavior. She looked impeccable as always. A long black dress, heels, hose. I found myself wondering if they were stockings or pantyhose.

We had a lovely dinner. Lots of talk. Lots of jokes. A few drinks. I was inexperienced and a bit tipsy.

At one point, she'd laid her hand on mine, and I'd visibly shivered, but she just went on.

I knew every man in the restaurant was staring at her. And I couldn't help but feel a little pride, even though it was silly.

She drove us home, and asked if I'd like to come in, just until I wasn't tipsy. It seemed like a good idea.

We walked inside, and she closed the door. Then she turned and sat on the stairs, letting her coat fall open.

I stared at her. At her amazing legs. I couldn't seem to look away.

She told me to come sit by her, pointing at the floor by her feet. There was something... different in her voice. Something more... commanding.

I went and knelt in front of her without thinking.

She smiled.

She olaced her hand under my chin, raising my head so I had to look at her. "I know how you think about me," she said. "It's okay," she said at my look of embarrassment. "I think about you, too."

She laughed a little at the look of surprise on my face, as she moved one leg in between mine.

"You've always been such a good boy for me," she said, as her heel slowly moved up and down. I nodded. I couldn't speak.

I was harder than I'd ever been.

"I want you to be more," she said. "I want you to be my good boy. Would you like that?"

I nodded. I could barely think. Years of want, desire, need, poured out of me, a dam breaking.

I didn't even realize my hips were moving in time to her leg.

"Good boy," she said. I whimpered a little. "Two things," she went on. "First, you have to ask. I need to know this is what you want."

There was no pause as the words tumbled out of my mouth. "Please, Miss Angie," I said "Pleae let me be your good boy."

She smiled and nodded, her leg pressing a bit harder against me.

I moaned. I couldn't help it. Nothing had ever felt this good before. I could feel myself changing, could feel my mind being rewritten somehow. And didn't seem to care.

"And second," she whispered as she gently pulled me down toward her heel, "when we're alone, no more Miss Angie."

I looked at her questioningly as she moved me farther down.

"Call me mommy,"

Something in my mind snapped at that. I throbbed, twitched beneath her.

"Mommy..." I moaned. In that moment, I became hers.

She smiled.

"Good boy."

I spiraled into the Void.

[sisterwolfsbane]

MINORS GO AWAY, THIS IS A KINK BLOG

I'm awake, reminiscing on when I realized that I had caught feelings, then shortly after fell in love with my boyfriend. I know he's gonna see this and come up in our Discord server or even this ask box like 'WHAT?' 🤣 I'm sorry, love, bear with me lol.

So, I think it was November or December of 2023, when I first felt something stir. I quickly dismissed it for a few reasons:

One, I was stoned off my ass, and two, it had only been a month or two, since I broke up with my ex of nearly half a decade. It was too soon.

"Huh... Am I feeling attracted to him? ....No, Wolfsbane, you're stoned, go listen to Uncle Acid and The Deadbeats."

Except the feelings didn't fade the next day I was sober. They were still there, even after I took a tolerance break for a good while. And then when I realized I had in fact fallen for him, there would be periods where I'd feel this deep sadness. A longing.

Now, I hear you going, "Sister, why didn't you tell him??"

Because at that time, he still saw me as the sibling friend. (We're not related, at one point in our friendship we referred to each other as siblings)

And I didn't want him to think I was weird or some shit, I didn't want to cross that boundary from friendship to romance. I didn't want to be so quick to confess my feelings. So, I did what I normally do with scary emotions- that I'm now working with my therapist on- bottled it up.

I never said anything for a long time. I thought keeping it inside was the best course of action until, maybe, just maybe, he'd feel the same way, one day.

This didn't exactly work because so many times, the emotion 'leaked out' so to speak. By that I mean, I caught myself staring at any selfies or pics he sent for longer, complimenting what I found the most pretty in said selfie.

And then I did a very millennial thing lol. I know people my age did this on MySpace- and still do it on some platforms.

I started posting bits and pieces of song lyrics to express the now storm of emotions on my old side Tumblr lol. Mainly Sleep Token. (Yes, sweetface, that's what that was >///<)

I started listening to bands like Death Cab For Cutie, and my dramatic, musical theatre ass listened to 'On My Own,' God knows how many times, feeling like Eponine, even though he wasn't in love with someone else sdgffgdfgfg I was an absolute disaster and nobody knew it lol.

Cut to April this year. Around January or February we decided on being platonic partners because we were so close. I still hadn't said anything yet but oh man, it was building.

Around April, we were having another one of our deep talks like we do every so often. It was mainly how we couldn't believe we'd been friends for three years now, and how much the both of us have changed.

At one point, he said he saw myself as more to him than just a platonic or even romantic partner. That his love for me went deeper than that. He saw me as more than just a soulmate too.

(Note at the time, we came into the belief that we were each other's soulmate, due to the circumstances of our friendship. It is not my place to talk about his personal stuff but we believe there was a reason we met for sure.)

I told him, I did too. And that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life without him.

And now we're here. Planning a marriage for when we meet, move in together, and spend more time with each other. We're not going to rush! I don't think I've ever been this happy and nor have I ever felt this way about another person. Not even my ex.

I love him to the moon, back and beyond the farthest reaches.

[ifeeleverythingiwrite]

"Hello, darling." The voice was smooth, intoxicating, and oddly familiar. My eyebrows pulled together as I wracked my brain for the source. No images came to me.

"Hi, sorry I-" I waved my hands in front of my eyes. It still felt strange explaining that I was blind. It still felt new. Like at any moment my sight would come back if I only didn't acknowledge my loss. But I knew that was only a fantasy.

"I'm blind. You know like a new phone who dis? But new eyes or I guess old eyes just damaged." I laughed awkwardly. Then cleared my throat. The voice didn't say anything. With my sight gone silence had only felt more daunting. I cleared my throat again. "Those smell good," I said. The floral aroma was the first thing I noticed when I opened the front door but I figured it would be rude to mention, like opening a gift before the card.

"They're Tulips." The voice replied, softer this time. I heard the guilt that laced his tone. I fought the urge to slam the door in his face. The collective pity that had followed the accident had been unbearable.

"Who are you?" I finally said.

"A secret admirer, can I come in?" The voice asked.

I paused. My lips pursed. It probably wasn't the best idea, at least not so soon. He could rob me...blind.

But the voice sounded so familiar. And I was almost sure the man at the door was, who my mom and I had been referring to as "The Sponsor"; the person who'd been paying my bills, and buying me groceries, and flowers. While I've been unable to work. He'd been so kind with the gifts. And I've been so... lonely since the accident. I stepped away from the door frame.

"Yeah come in," I said gesturing for him to enter.

His footsteps stopped prematurely in the entryway.

"Your art it's-" His voice was filled with awe.

"Beautiful." He finished with a slight crack of emotion.

"It was," I agree.

I walked forward until my feet touched the couch then I placed my finger on the bumpy ridge of the couch letting it point me toward the kitchen. I could clearly feel the stranger's eyes watching me go about my motions.

"The support group said I should be able to have like a sort of map downloaded in my brain of the house. So I won't need to be so careful, soon." I say. I smile trying to seem optimistic. Steps pattered beside me. Gently my hand was placed in the nook of the voice's arm. His skin was a bit bumpy but soft and clearly muscled.

"You don't have to-"

"Where to?" He interrupted.

A small smile painted my lips.

"The kitchen. I was gonna offer you some lemonade."

"I can help with that too."

I frown. "No, I'm trying to get used to the whole being blind thing, so."

We stopped. He gently touched his hand to mine. His fingers were calloused and his hand enveloped mine easily sending a warmth up my arm. I blushed. He placed my hand on a slightly colder surface. With his hand over me, he slid my hand down the metal surface. I immediately recognized the shape of the fridge.

"Thanks." I breathed out. I opened the fridge. Thankful for the gust of cold that cooled me.

"Lemonade?" I asked as if I'd never mentioned it before. He chuckled. The sound of laughter was cleansing to my weary soul.

"I suppose, I could have a glass," He said.

I smiled. My hand found its way over the interior fridge door. I pulled out the correctly shaped bottle and I went to set it on the counter. The heavy weight of the lemonade bottle fell further than the porcelain surface. I braced myself for a crash that never happened. I felt my secret admirer's warmth before he spoke.

"You almost drop this." He whispered. I blushed. "My hero." I joked

I tilted my head. "How did you-"

I was almost certain he was on the other side of the fridge. I hadn't heard his footsteps. I swore he was.

The realization came like the second red line of a pregnancy test.

"No." I say in disbelief.

"No, it can't-" I recognized the voice. From the moment he stood in the doorway, I knew I had.

"Maya I-"

My name coming from his mouth was confusing. When I thought of him as his voice and his presence and the gentle way he touched my arm, I wanted him to keep talking. But when I thought of him for what he really was, the reason why I'm blind, I wanted him to burn alive.

"No- No! Oh my- This can't be happening." I swallowed.

I took a step backward my hands coming to my temples.

"It's you. You ruined everything!" I ground out.

"Maya, I never meant for you- for anybody, to get hurt. Not the innocents. It was never meant to go that far. You don't understand I-"

"Oh I don't understand? I don't understand that you ruined my entire fucking life? I don't understand that you stole my art from me. You stole my art. You stole my fucking life. You fucking ruined my life!"

"It wasn't meant to go that far Maya I didn't mean to. Please forgive me. Maya, I am truly sorry."

His gentle hands cupped my forearms. I violently yanked them away. I stumbled backward and fell hard onto the tiled floor. I felt him reaching for me again. "Don't touch me!' I yelled. My breaths came in rapidly tears pricked my eyes. And suddenly I was back, unable to move under a pile of rubble and I was trying to open my eyes, and no matter how many times I blinked I couldn't see. "Don't touch me." I sob. But he hadn't tried to touch me again. It's all I could say. I brought my legs into my chest and curled into myself.

"Please, just don't, don't touch me." I sniffled.

The terror you had felt when you’d accidentally gotten caught in the middle of a battle between a hero and villain, had been nothing compared to the terror you’d felt when you had woken up in the hospital to a world completely void of light. 

Finding out that the damage had scarred you so badly, that the loss of vision would be permanent, had completely crushed you.

With the birth of the age of heroes and villains, the government had ended up setting in place a new system to support civilians who were caught in the crossfire. As an artist with no other income, and no one to help support you, you’d been certain that you were destined to rely entirely on that funding for the rest of your life, or until you could find another way to care for yourself, however unlikely it may be.

The agency the hero worked for, had offered some compensation for your injury and ended up paying all of your hospital fees, but in the grand scheme of things, it still left you living a rather meagre life. 

Or at least that’s how it would have been, had the gifts not started showing up.

The first time there had been a delivery of fresh groceries, you’d been completely baffled, but grateful. But the second time, you’d been a little more hesitant, as, despite having no real close friends or family who would know your tastes, each delivery seemed to have been perfectly catered to them.

It was more than a little unsettling, and soon enough it started to get even more bizarre and worrisome.

The moment you needed something replaced, a replacement would be delivered. If something broke, a handyman would show up to fix it before you could call them. Even when it came time to pay bills, you found them already paid, and your bank account completely untouched.

It was unnerving, but slowly and surely, you started to get use to it and appreciate it.

When someone had knocked on your door early one morning, you hadn’t thought much of it when you’d answered, having gotten use to random deliveries. A small smile slipped onto your lips when you caught the scent of fresh flowers, another thing you’d been receiving ever since you were hospitalised, and had slowly come to adore.

What you hadn’t been expecting, was to hear a very very familiar voice, when the person finally spoke. The voice you’d heard mere moments before you’d passed out from the pain of the injury that had permanently blinded you for life. 

Nor had you expected them to sound so utterly filled with remorse.

[likelycatherinemay]

Diary 11/?

What makes nostalgia so powerful? That question came to me today during class at university.

I remember the first time I heard about a transgender person. It was on E! News. If we are using the term 'news,' the dictionary may fold in on itself from the paradox resulting from the content being produced by E! 'News'. The story was about how a transgender man was going to give birth because he still had sufficient reproductive organs. It was like the story was, "Hey, look at how WEIRD this is. Look out how STRANGE this is." And that's what my mom said when she watched the story. Eight-year-old me was simply baffled. There was simply no frame of reference before this moment.

Of course, I grew older, and I learned more. I earnestly want to believe that there was no hostility on my part toward trans people. Of course, that's not true. I grew up in West Virginia, and I still return there to this day. So, when I realized I wasn't exactly on the 'straight' and narrow of sexual and gender identity, the undercurrent of self-hatred had already been sewn. That if I could just put the genie back in the bottle, that if I could push it down far enough, that if I could prove my masculinity, everything could sort itself.

When that is swirling around in your psyche, it's hard to be happy to wake up. It's hard to drag yourself to class, to the gym, to your books. It's hard to open your eyes. You hate yourself for the qualities you want. And it's not like the world stops turning. Your body atrophies from neglect. Your mind spins from potential threats, and injuries you haven't suffered. When you've been on one side of side of the looking glass, it is impossible to not know how the people gazing through feel. They told you when you both stared through. When you were both so confident you would stand where you were eternally, they told you how different and strange it is. How different and strange the 'other' group is. How normal we are.

Nostalgia is the feeling of warmth and safety. It is the feeling of being far enough away to look at an imaginary past with reverence. There are no questions for the specter of the past to answer. Your warped mind fudges all the answers. It makes the monsters horrific and the summer idyllic and wonderous, and it makes the problems seem small. For someone who rubbed the lamp and wished for the genie to go away, nostalgia has a complex relationship in my mind.

Sometimes, I think about Christmas. I think about my grandmother making pepperoni rolls. If you aren't from West Virginia, pepperoni rolls are bread, cheese, and pepperoni. That's it. It is almost heaven. It is something insultingly simple by design. The wives of coal miners made them in Fairmont, West Virginia before the husbands went to work. Before they went to break their bodies in service of unfeeling, unthinking corporate hunger. It was an act of unquestioning love, repeated every day until the mines went dry and the land forgotten. The act now repeats in the shattered lives and bitter people forgotten by God.

Those people did not love me, and they do not love me now. The state motto for West Virginia is, "Mountaineers are always free." My home was a prison, and thank goodness I found the other inmates plotting their escape. But, I think about the uniting myth between myself and those demanding my eradication. We all believe in the warm embrace of a simple meal. Fresh out of the oven, safe and simple. The bread smells just like my grandmother's apartment, and I can still smell it on a cold December day. But the shock of being called a ------ is also a memory of the past.

The looking glass is a funny thing. Once you've fallen through, you don't forget what you thought you were before you accepted what you are. You don't forget what people told you when you were one of 'them.' When they slip and forget you aren't one of 'them,' you don't forget. Maybe time will make the fear only a reflex, and maybe the deep scar will fade into discolored skin. Nostalgia is the wonderous, foolish memory of a time that never quite came to be. It is funny how agony can permit that hypnotic sensation through its iron gates. Perhaps agony wants to twist the knife by mocking us with the past. Perhaps it serves the crueler master of despair. One day, I hope it is not those emotions that run roughshod over the pleasant meadows of introspection. But alas, the prison needs more inmates to consume.

It's been a minute. I finished Black Boy by Richard Wright. Solid book, A+ first three-quarters, then C- finale. That's okay, and I might have mentioned this in my last entry, but I finished Dreadnought and Wake of Vultures. Dreadnought is outstanding and unsurprisingly gut-wrenching. Of course, I will be getting the sequels to Dreadnought and Wake of Vultures, but if there is any more trans fiction (preferably fantasy), please let me know. There is no one reading this but thank you anyway.

"I want to believe that you've got a good heart

Oh I want to believe in some things

I happen to read on the inside of fortune cookies

I want to say no but when I'm offered a hit and it ruins my weekend

I'm nothing but trouble watching you sleep

Brushing your teeth and laughing at me

I'm nothing but trouble, baby believe in me."

[casspurrjoybell-22]

The Art of Sin - Chapter 8 - Part 2

•Ire Byakko (Kitsune)

*Warning Adult Content*

"It's called love."

I looked into Lord Nikoli's eyes, which were washed in the same warm and joyous emotion as the rest.

Somehow I knew he wasn't trying to trick me, to lie to me.

He was just stating a fact.

The idea that I was feeling love was so  foreign.

I'd thought I had felt it before but this wasn't anything like that.

This was warm and happy not heavy and anxious.

Had I never felt love before?

Real love?

It didn't matter.

The realization calmed me.

I had love now, at this moment and I felt happy.

I smiled up at lord Nikoli, a true smile without any reservations.

"Was this what you were trying to teach me?"

"In a way, yes. Though I didn't intend for it to happen this way."

He reached up, caressing my cheek.

"I am truly sorry that that happened to you."

I shook my head, smile still in place.

"It's not your fault. I should have handled it better though."

"No. That dirty scum-bag deserved what he got," Ire interrupted, eyes suddenly ablaze.

"I only wish I could've been the one to do it."

Bain chuckled darkly.

"Yeah, it'd be fun to have a new play-mate. I'd introduce all my toys to him."

I looked at Bain, surprised and slightly disturbed by his sudden dark turn.

I suppose you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

I did wonder what 'toys' he was referring to.

"Hmm, don't know if you're ready to open that door," Lord Nikoli said under his breath.

After that, dinner went on as normal.

I was actually able to enjoy myself.

For the first time, worry wasn't constantly in the back of my mind.

I went to bed happy, content with the outcome.

I was even slightly grateful that that man had tried to do something.

Without him, I wouldn't have figured out my feelings.

********

I woke up hot.

Sweat poured off my body as I wound myself in the sheets, gasping for air.

I couldn't think.

My mind, my body, screaming in need even though I couldn't utter a sound.

I stumbled out of bed and into the hallway.

I didn't know where I was going or what I needed, only that I had to go.

Time blurred as I made my way through the house, using the wall as a support.

I couldn't see very well, not noticing the figure until I was falling back.

Strong arms wrapped around me, stopping my fall.

I blinked, looking up to see Bain, a panicked expression on his face.

"Fuck, Winter are you okay? What wrong with...?" he couldn't finish, suddenly finding me on top of him, my lips silencing him.

I ground against him, drawing out a moan from both of us.

Our tongues rubbed together, exploring each other's mouth.

I broke away, my hand reaching for his pants and pulling them down.

His cock twitched under my stare.

I looked to Bain as I took him in my hand, slowly stroking him.

His gaze was pinned to my hand, mouth parted slightly as he panted.

"I want you Bain."

I felt him harden at my words, egging my movements to quicken.

Before he could say anything, my head dipped, my tongue slipping out to run down his length.

I felt him shudder as I sucked his sack, my hand replacing my mouth for the moment.

His hand tangled in my hair, jerking me up.

Bain gazed at me hungrily before shoving his cock between my lips.

I quickly relaxed, making sure to breathe through my nose as he pulled me down to the hilt.

"Fuck yes," his reaction caused me to moan, the vibrations making him grow harder.

I felt him tense, not moving away as he came, swallowing all his hot semen and lapping up what spilled over.

Suddenly I was up, my legs automatically locking around his waist as I got carried down the hallway.

I didn't know where he was taking me, too busy tasting him.

I wined as he through me on a bed but it was short.

He followed right after me, taking charge as he pulled out a sash, tying my hand to the bed.

A cry of both pleasure and pain escaped from between my lips as Bain bit into my neck.

It wasn't enough to break the skin but it'd definitely leave a mark.

I arched my back when he lapped at the mark, moaning as he soothed the skin.

I felt his lips curl into a smirk as he trailed kisses along my collarbone, making his way ever so slowly to my nipple.

His tongue teased my erect nipple, moving to the other after giving it a pinch.

I cried out as he suddenly put clamps on them, pulling at the chain that connected them.

He looked at me with mischief and lust.

"I bet you'd like to feel my mouth on your cock?"

I nodded quickly, sucking in a breath as I watched him move down with hooded eyes, the anticipation making me become hotter.

He pulled down my boxers, exposing my throbbing cock, growing harder the longer he looked at it.

Slowly, his mouth moved towards my tip.

He stopped a breath away, meeting my eyes.

"What do you say?"

"Please," I whispered, my voice low with lust.

"Please what...?"

I growled at his game.

"Please take my cock in your mouth. Please make me cum, Bain," I cried as he immediately did as I said.

My back arched as his tongue slid on my member, coating it in saliva.

His tongue flicked my tip, making me moan.

"F-fuck..."

His head bobbed as he deepthroated me.

Faster and faster he went, drawing out cries each time I hit the back of his throat.

When he pulled at the clamps, it was too much.

I pulled at my restraints as I came.

Bain moved away as cum shot out of my cock, splattering my abdomen, leaving my body a trembling mess.

My sight darkened and my mind became a fog, not able to process what happened.

Something damp rubbed against my body.

I felt my hands become free as someone spoke.

"Sleep well, Winter..."

I tried to respond, my mouth opening but no sound came out.

I didn't think much of it, sighing as I sunk into the blackness.

[someguynamedzoom]

Valhalla in Vogue (Short Story)

(CW: Violence, Death, Religion, Suicide)

I believe myself to be a good, God-loving American like anybody else. I pray, I follow the rules, and I respect dueling. As everyone knows, only those who are brave and honorable are permitted into Heaven. And of course, the most respectable way to go is to be courteously slain over a disagreement. Indeed, formal combat is God’s favorite, and any other method shall burn you in Hell. A fate unlikely for an American, as we have no such cowards. If someone here were to not die by another’s hands, then they must’ve never been American in the first place. Although… Something happened to make me question some things. Allow me to tell a story.

I had just turned eighteen, the appropriate age for combat, along with a few of my peers. We believed our shared births to be a wonderful miracle and decided to throw a combined celebration. After all it wasn’t only a day for us, but also for those old school-issued Makarovs finally leaving the classroom to relive their forgotten battles. So, our grade met at a popular bar that neglected identification. Because of that, the following evening was quite merry and the refreshments influenced us greatly. Joey, who was obsessed with the classics, only allowed the speakers to blare Billy Joel and Tim, who declared himself a clown, had an amusing lip-syncing for Movin’ Out. These lives of the party were juxtaposed by my lonesome nursing of a bottle. Though I did enjoy watching them, opposed to another individual.

            I locked eyes with a classmate named Bruce, who seemed apathetic toward the event. I didn’t know much about the fellow, other than him being another church-going American. And I’m sure he knew little regarding me, yet that did not decrease his heavy gaze. Followed by the formation of an odd grin. It took me a moment to understand what he was implying until I met with the notion that was probably in the back of all our minds. He wanted to duel me. Now, I had no reason to but once I was reminded that I was now allowed, I found the same urge to participate in God’s plan. I returned his leer and he approached.

            The beat of my heart intensified with each step he took. The excitement to finally use my skill caused me to feel up my holstered gun. However, a sudden thought brought an unfamiliar sentiment. What if I were to lose the duel and die? The question made me tense and cease all movement. I don’t know why; death is a common result so there was no need for adverse reactions. Despite that, I was frozen. Forced to watch Bruce come with a widening smile. I apologized to God for whatever I did, pleading to cease this punishment. Because the look in Bruce’s eyes haunted me, I worried that I wasn’t even going to be challenged before shot dead. Then he came.

            An oblivious man poorly timed a collision with Bruce. While he teetered, Bruce shouted at him to watch his path. A fair reaction, as half his vision was covered by the collar of his coat along with the brim of his hat. The outfit was unique, making the man appear as a battler of an old America. A time of expanding west, when bloodshed was a means rather than the meaning. In that sense, the man’s attire was offensive, like he was parodying the ghosts God had banished from America. Upon realizing what the man was wearing, Bruce began a disgusted rant. That made me feel ashamed since my curse ended once Bruce’s attention went to someone else. The man who dredged up shameful history was disinterested in the scolding but remained to take it. Then, the grin returned to Bruce’s face. In a mocking tone, he said another reason to consider the man’s clothes is how it may motivate someone to duel. To punctuate the threat, Bruce referred to the man by his caricature. He called him a cowboy.

            Finally, the man– The cowboy turned to Bruce. His duster swung in the air, grabbing the attention of a few bystanders. He then told Bruce that he should be clear when making a challenge and dubbed him a kid. The description flustered Bruce, understandably as this night was meant to toast our maturity. It warranted a complaint that could not be delivered for the room was hushed by the cowboy taking out his weapon: A black handgun with a long barrel and wooden grips. It was an older piece, though better kept than our Russian leftovers. Another notable trait was the make, denouncing any semblance for self-defense. The gun’s aura screamed to kill and kill alone.

            Usually, drawing a weapon, especially one as dramatic as this, would result in everyone else doing the same. No unrighteous murder would be tolerated by God’s favorite children. However, while he gained the whole room’s perception, no one else produced their firearm. Any dark intention was dissuaded by the cowboy pointing the barrel at himself. Additionally, any concern of him performing the most craven sin, suicide, was eliminated by his monologue. He informed us that his gun was a Thompson/Center Contender, a break-action hunting pistol made to only hold a single bullet at a time. This was confirmed by exposing the gun’s empty chamber. He continued by showing us his belt adorned in ammunition, their and the gun’s required caliber being .40-70. The cowboy admitted to the power possibly being overkill for a duel, but then commented on how often guns are in general. Finally, he explained his policy of never loading his gun before drawing and how he would only shoot it once. An audacious claim that elicited murmur from the crowd and sweat from Bruce.

            Despite his nerves, Bruce clarified he still wanted to duel and kept that way even when the cowboy said they would draw in ten seconds. The abrupt decision silenced the room, and we viewed them with the respect properly given to duelers. The lengthy sixth of a minute passed and ended with a bang. Bruce’s gun flew across the bar with the cause smoking in the cowboy’s hand. True to the word, the cowboy only loaded after the time and did so in a blur. The amazing feat and Bruce’s loss by disarming called our applause. Although, our cheers were not as loud compared to if Bruce was granted the glory of death, something that upset him verily. Knowing this, the cowboy claimed he fumbled his shot. Bruce was about to confront him again before an older gentleman came over and enlightened Bruce. He told Bruce that he just dueled Harold Grace of The One Round, a walking legend who has dropped fighters far more experienced than us students. After that, Bruce dropped the matter.

            The birthday ceremony resumed, now with everyone aware of Grace in the room. The off-putting attitude he held made most avoid him. Yet I, already feeling unlike myself, was attracted to the table he sat at. I inquired what he was doing there that night, and he begrudgingly told me that he intended to meet a woman– To duel, he established as if there could be any other reason. They both arranged to meet here, unaware of the ongoing party which caused him to regret his choice. I know his hint of disdain should’ve forced my leave, but I became persistent to stay. After seeing him handle that gun without hesitation, I believed he may hold a cure for my mental affliction. I explained what I just experienced with Bruce and asked if he had any tips for gunslinging. He gave me a once-over and declined by leaving the table.

            I was disheartened for sure, but my goal lasted. I considered how if the man himself wouldn’t give me advice, then maybe his rumors would. This idea led me to the bartender who I knew had gossip as all good bartenders do. They pondered and told me the little that they knew. Grace adopted his policy of loading late early on and established himself with the One Round moniker. Although, he never explained why he did it. Sure, it’s impressive. But any sensible type can see how dangerous and absurd the fighting style is. The bartender then told me of a duel a few months prior. He was challenged by Prawn of The Swift, who was aptly named with a record-breaking draw time. Grace accepted, supposedly he always did, and they held it on a public street famous as a go-to impromptu arena. They waited for Grace’s preferred ten seconds before they both fired. When time, Prawn moved inhumanly to get the first shot off with his Beretta. It was an attack that should’ve went straight between Grace’s eyes. But while he drew, Grace went down on one knee and loaded his pistol while leaning back. It was indeed a position cruel for the posture, but it allowed Grace to steal Prawn’s intent including his life and the bridge of his nose.

            I told the bartender how remarkable I found the story and let my tone prove it genuine. The bartender didn’t need any reassurance since they enjoyed the story themselves. Grace on the other hand wasn’t as convinced so he asked me if I meant it. I told him I did and paused briefly before letting out a yipe in shock of his sudden materialization. He didn’t react to my noise, thankfully, as he was too busy brooding over how to treat his newly acquired fan. He seemed upset, oddly enough, that someone would hold him in such high regard. I couldn’t see as to why since he was a prime example of how God’s warriors should be. Though he was ridiculously insistent on the clarification of my wanting to be a gunslinger. And even after I confirmed this, he seemed unable to conjure up any solution for me. Like he had a reason to hold back on educating me. Tragically, I didn’t get the chance to learn why.

            Our conversation was interrupted by a man that I recognized as the one who convinced Bruce to leave. He said he had witnessed a fight from Grace’s youth and wished to be given a clarification. Grace didn’t respond but remained to hear the man give his tale. In the setting, Grace was a student proven by the school labeled semi-automatic he used instead of the Contender. While he was out and about one day, some of his peers showed with their own guns drawn. What issue they had; the man didn’t know. But he was there to witness Grace’s defense of unloading precise shots with a flurry. The man described the scene like a story from myth and I was entranced from hearing another exploit by The One Round. Then he came to the conclusion. After Grace had felled his foes, he supposedly dropped down and wept. This is what the man wanted to ask about. He, and now I, wondered why Grace would cry over someone’s death, let alone the deaths of his enemies. Grace did not answer. He simply left the counter and I curiously followed suit.

            We traveled across the room. I didn’t probe him about the story, but I did ask where he was going. With a flat emotion he said that he realized it was time. Before I could ask for what, I was reminded of his purpose when he stopped to stand in front of a woman. She had just entered the building, standing tall and surveying the environment with a stern expression. People took note of the sheathed side-sword buckled to her regal jacket and sent around gossip fitting for the eccentric. She was identified to be Ann of The Blade, a swordswoman obsessed with dueling the skilled. This one confirmed to be at her request while she greeted Grace courteously. As the reason for her visit spread, the onlookers became eager to see someone fight with a sword. The tool was irregular with the current score for gunpowder beating steel. Yet her ability with it was proven long ago and to see it against another unusual choice was unquestionably intriguing.

            After introductions, the two strutted to the center of the room. While walking, Ann asked if Grace would kindly not use the handicap he had given everyone else. Grace politely refused and said it was for himself. She seemed dissatisfied with that answer. Grace figured she would’ve understood, carrying an unconventional weapon herself. Ann stated that it was for character. Grace then offered to justify himself by asking her to see his policy as the same while not revealing if it actually was. Ann was silent to that, ending the conversation. The two took their positions and hovered their hands above their arms.

            The tension summoned was a far cry to what we witnessed with Bruce. Opposing each other were two genuine professionals. Killers who made their own names and vanished the disbelief for their equipment. A blade slashing before a gun fired. An unloaded weapon that still assured triumph. We were in awe while watching and shaken at the end of ten seconds. It was quick, untraceable. Ann’s blade pierced Grace and extended out of his back. Grace reacted by giving his signature single shot into her chest. The force of the blast sent them apart. Ann’s firm grasp of her sword pulled it from Grace to leave a hole in his heart. He clumsily stumbled backward, accidentally seating himself in a chair. Ann slammed into the bar which she then leaned on to prevent herself from falling. A red stream ran down her jacket while the exit wound gaped her back. Nonetheless, she was breathing and compared to Grace’s limp body it appeared that she would live.

            The crowd erupted. In the name of God, a victor had been chosen. The party gathered around Ann who seemed more concerned with her gunshot than her glory. While I watched her be praised for her skill and honor, I couldn’t bring myself to join them. Ann impressed me, of course, but I was still saddened that Grace would now be unable to help me. While brainstorming for a new solution, I went over to his body. I knew I could no longer gain anything but figured that I should at least get an early start on paying my respects. However, my plan was cancelled by his voice. Grace was not dead, but dying, and in his final moments he was speaking to himself. The way he spoke was happy, as expected of a dying man. Yet what he said was strange. He was glad that people were applauding his death. This made me curious enough to ignore the common reaction to finding a corpse still alive and I told him they weren’t applauding just that. I corrected him that Ann’s win was also a part of it. He noticed me and asked what point that changed. I wasn’t sure what he meant and got to say nothing while he then stood with a vigor unfitting for his condition. As he did so, the chair he was on scratched against the floor causing a few celebrators to turn and see him. They then got the rest to look at him while he reclaimed the gun he dropped in the fight. We were confused as to why Grace was still here and not yet in Heaven but knew it would be rude to interrupt the final actions of the warrior. With his gun returned, he replaced the spent round in his gun with a fresh bullet from his belt. After doing so, he pointed the weapon at me, returning me to the unusual sorrow Bruce had introduced. I couldn’t fathom what I did to bring out Grace’s hostility, but then realized by his smile that he wasn’t upset with me. He did not shoot me, nor did he want to. Harold Grace just wanted to ensure that I paid attention to the advice he finally came up with:

            “Kid, live a little.”

            He then placed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger.

No one speaks of The One Round anymore. His last act tarnished any memory of him. Yet, why? Why does what he said still stick with me and what does it mean? How come I, unlike everyone else, am unable to forget him? Why do I still fear the possibility of dying? Why am I different? I shall continue to ask God for answers, but in case someone who listened has one, please share.

[c-o-r-r-u-p-t]

trigger warning. Sexual assault.

Dear Shane,

i know i shouldnt take what you did to me personally. You were a scared little boy. But you fucked me up. I am still dealing with issues you left me. Thoughts and ideas I have about myself that are rooted in how you treated me. You didn't do it on purpose but you wounded me. You were the first one to teach me that someone saying they love me doesn't mean they are willing to make me feel loved.

Dear Mark,

You definitely know what you did. If you didn't figure it out yourself, you knew because I explicitly told you. You forced me into sexual acts every day for a year and a half. I would be crying that I didn't want to. I would tell you I was still bleeding from the sex the day before. You said if i care about you, I would still do it for you. you manipulated me. You kept me prisoner. You hid me from my friends and family. you wanted me as your slave. Even made me call you master. i told you i felt like you were raping me and you said i was crazy. Even after you fucked my lifeless body all passed out on the xanax you fed me. got me hooked on. Took my virginity while my tears were still drying on my face about how i didnt want to lose my virginity. I was a pushover and you were a rapist. Yet you loved me some how. You wanted me to have the best life you could give me, as long as you were the one giving it to me. would plan dates around what i wanted. would do little things to make me happy every day. go out of your way to make me smile. I wish you didn't do that. I wish you were just evil. you tried to make me happy with the little things and maybe if you didnt force your dick into my mouth every day then refer to me as nothing but a hole for guys to fuck we would have worked out. But you solidified that loving someone doesn't mean that they're good for you and someone saying they love me doesn't mean theyre willing to make me feel loved.

Dear Louie,

you did nothing wrong im just pretty sure im never going to like men again sorry

Dear Patricia,

Im never going to not be in love with you. That being said, I don't even really know who you are, so really this is saying that I am delusional. But we had something special for those few months we could be together. Short and sweet. I'm sorry I made it so intense. You said you loved me and i went all in. but you were my first queer relationship (kinda - you said no to being my gf and now neither of us identify as being a girl anymore but whatever lmao) and I had finally realized what it was like to be attracted to someone mentally and physically and man did I love you right back. Maybe a little too much. They way I would have moved across the country to you the second you asked me to up until about a year ago. Fuck i still might. I still think of you from time to time. Not like how I used to, but i still do. Every once in a while I'll fantasize about you moving to nyc and us finally getting to be together. I think we would have been beautiful. but i'm also pretty sure we're not meant to be together in this lifetime. Maybe the next. I've never felt like anyone was my soul mate before you, and still haven't since. Probably was just the first queer experience getting to me but thats also why I'll never stop thinking of you. I knew ph and mikayla werent the ones because they had nothing on what you made me feel like. I hope i get to feel like that again one day. You were perfectly my type, everything i could dream of. Maybe we'll get to get to know eachother again in the future. Maybe not. I hope you have a great life.

Dear ph,

My feelings about you are complicated. I'm still angry at you a lot of the time. But I also am not skipping over the part where you did try to break up with me at one point in our almost 3 years because you didn't think you had enough time for me and become a model. I said I could be patient and that you were worth it. I chose to stay. But when we were talking about that you made it seem like you still wanted to be with me you just wanted to be fair to me. The end of our relationship wasn't even a relationship. Its not that you didn't have time for me, its that you didn't even want to see me at all. like literally didnt even try to see me for over a month and wouldn't have if i kept on trying. You probably wouldn't have even broken up with me you would have just never spoken to me again. You were my girlfriend and you would only respond to me once every few days. It made no fucking sense. Especially after the fact where there was a point where I broke up with you after you told me my love was exhausting and that i didn't try hard enough (lol) and you begged for me back. Literally begged. Would drive to my house and sit in your car down the street just to feel close to me. Told me we were soul mates. Begged to not even be my girlfriend but just my fuck buddy if thats all i wanted because you were so desperate to stay in my life. But then i took you back and you wouldnt even let me touch you without flinching. Even when it was just to hold your hand or play with your hair. You were revolted by me. I'm never going to forget the night i put my arm around you and tried to fall asleep. You thought i was asleep already and literally picked up my hand off your waist and dropped it on the bed in disgust and shood it away from you. The fact that I was holding you was just something you let happen to be nice. You fell out of love with me and couldn't tell me. You didn't even like me anymore yet you kept me around for so long, letting me try so fucking hard to get you to love me again when you were the one that begged for me back in the first place. I was doing fine without you then you begged for me back just to make me bitter and sad and angry and not give me anything i wanted or deserved and made me feel crazy and needy for wanting even the bare fucking minimum. You fucked up so much of the ideas i had around love. You taught me that love will fade. that people will lose interest in me. You taught me that no matter how hard i try it will never be enough. You taught me that me constantly putting in effort and getting nothing in return is what love is. You taught me that I have no fucking idea what love is really like. And i will never forgive you for telling me my love is a burden because i still hear those words in my head every goddamn day. I was a burden for trying to love you. And I will always be a burden.