#and ended it with a big fat 'i think you would really excell with a dynamo'

[irl-dogboy]

it's bonkers bananas that people are just in your life and then suddenly for whatever reason they aren't anymore and you just have to be okay with carrying them around with you forever. do you carry me??? i'll never know and that doesn't seem fair

[churipu]

96 + 98 , gojo satoru

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cursing, school! au, uses of the word 'pretty' to describe the readers' appearance // 2.9k words

note. i absolutely love the academic rivals to lovers trope, so here's a try on this trope. and i'm so glad requests are coming in :') i'll be getting to them after this one shot <;33

synopsis. gojo and you have never gotten along, maybe it's the fact he's the epitome of perfection. he has a pretty face and a pretty brain, who wouldn't like that? so you made it your job to try and beat him at that brain game of his, which never ends well. until you find yourself 2 points higher than him, with his help. oh, boy.

gojo satoru was everywhere. and by everywhere — i mean everywhere.

it was no longer surprising that everyone in school knows him, whether by his name or personally knowing him. it's a surprise if someone doesn't know him, really.

he has a pretty face, and a pretty brain. who wouldn't like that? he's got girls and guys fawning and bowing down to him like their life depended on it, but really, is that all to him? a pretty face and brain?

unfortunately, not.

just to top it off, like a cherry on top. his friendly and light demeanor has earned a lot of respect from people all around, even ones who were outside of school — and that shit, pisses you off. he's the epitome of perfection that it pisses you off, how does one look like they have no flaws?

you used to think that you were it. people call you smart and how they envy your intelligence. but ever since gojo satoru beats you at the one thing you solely thing you excel in (you think): your brain. you had a personal feud with him; which you were currently losing in, by the way.

pretty was never an adjective that sits well with you. you never thought you were a pretty person. back during middle school, you tried hard, constantly trying to make yourself pretty for the sake of others to like you. but at the end of the day, it's you sitting down in front of the mirror doubting yourself whether this was really you or a person you made for other people to look at.

so you settled down for the one thing you were good at: studying.

"fuck you, gojo." you muttered out, clutching your test paper with a big fat and raging red '92' on it along with a 'nice job!' under it, and the fact that it has a smiley face beside it gave you the ick. you just wanted to pour gasoline on it and set the paper on fire.

"just because i beat you in a calculus test? c'mon y/n, instead of that — why don't we just study together?" he swayed, holding out his paper that had a big '100' on it.

ever since you made it your job to try beating him with your grades, you've never find the pleasure in studying anymore. it felt like a chore, it felt like a chore to beat gojo satoru; and when it doesn't happen, you just kind of drown in failure.

and it fucking sucks.

constantly forcing yourself to study just for the sake of beating him even by a point or two, it didn't feel nice. but the thought of him winning yet again made you a little scared.

a 92 for a calculus test would be a dream come true to other people. it would be yours too if gojo satoru hadn't appear in your life, but reality check, he's here and he's just so good at it that it angers you.

people often called you "ungrateful" or a "try hard", honestly, at this point — you can't really help but to think the same. anyone would want to get a 90 in a calculus test, or any other test. but to you, it felt like defeat.

you won't be satisfied until you beat him.

beat gojo satoru.

"study togeth— are you fucking serious?" you spat out at him angrily, crossing your arms.

gojo leans on the stair railing and hums softly, "yes. one hundred percent serious, wanna do it?" he shot you the sweetest smile.

a smile that would send any other person to the moon and back, but the sight honestly just pisses you off. the anger you felt from him beating you in the most recent calculus test was already too much to bear, and like adding salt to the wound, he hits you with a "why don't we just study together?"

"go to hell." you muttered, walking away.

"hey!" the male calls out to you, as much as you didn't want to stop — you did, glancing back at him, brows furrowed, "we have a statistics test next week, maybe it's your time to shine."

his voice was teasing, and he said that with a big toothy grin. god, you just wanted to run over there and bash his face in, plastering a scowl on your face, you shoved out your tongue and walked away. gojo laughs loudly as you walked away.

the dreaded statistics test came, and for some reason — you were more nervous than usual. maybe it was the fact gojo was taunting you about it the other day? or was it the fact he was sitting right next to you, occasionally stealing glances at you with those striking deep-set blue eyes of his.

you'd be lying if you said the male wasn't attractive. but even the thought of yourself thinking about such makes you angry. honestly, everything about him makes you angry.

you look to the side and the male was leaning his head down, his cheek on his left arm as he scribbled on his answer sheet. noticing your gaze on him, he gives you a big smile, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

upon that, your face contorted into one of disgust and your eyes averted back towards your answer sheet, which somehow looks...empty. it wasn't that you didn't know the answers to it, there was doubt in you, would you be able to finally beat him? what if you lost again?

but as time was ticking, you pushed those thoughts away and wrote down your answers. confidently. as your teacher commanded for everyone to collect their answer sheets, it was no surprise that the male sitting beside you was the first one to stand. trotting over to the teacher's table and collecting his work, he strides back towards his seat, shooting you a (mocking) wink.

a few minutes later, you stood up to collect your own answer sheet. students often wanted time to go in a rush during average lessons, but tests? they hoped time had slow down even just by a few seconds. it was dreadful, groans and aggravated sighs were heaved out as the bell rang, signifying the end of the test.

"so, how did you do?" gojo questions, standing undoubtedly close to you. too close to your liking, but you brushed that part off.

"why does it matter to you?" you uttered back, annoyed.

"woah, shit. somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," you sighed out exasperatedly, standing up to make your way to the school's cafeteria. one of the most atrocious place you could ever walk into — if you hadn't woke up half an hour later this morning, maybe you wouldn't on your way there right now.

but it is what it is.

"why're you following me?"

gojo groans out, "dream on. i'm going to the cafeteria to eat and hang out with my friends, not to follow you," he mumbles out, his hands shoved deep inside his pocket, "why're you always so angry with me? who hurt you?"

"you."

gojo was silent, he looks at you with a surprised look, "wait, really? remind me of what i did again because i don't have any records of picking fights with you...?" confusion.

you casted a disdainful look towards the male, prompting to stay silent to his nonchalant question-answer. gojo didn't pry on, the confusion still written all over his face, but he walked by your side slowly, matching your steps.

"i'm sure you're gonna beat me in statistics." he suddenly prompted, grinning brightly, "i didn't have time to study."

you groan out in annoyance, typical template of words people use when they know damn well they're going to ace the test. his words were answered with complete silence from you as you slipped inside the cafeteria, walking towards a section to buy yourself a meal.

and gojo, like he said — didn't follow you and parted ways right after you both enter the rowdy place.

"so, what's your score?" gojo whistles, leaning back on his chair as he holds onto a paper, looking at it intently.

you clutched onto the statistics test you did last week, blinking hesitantly, "ninety-eight." your reply was short, but at least it answered him.

a few seconds passed by and doubt started surging in you, maybe he had landed yet another perfect mark? maybe he's one point higher? maybe he's thinking of words to make fun of you with. so many thoughts at this point that you felt your head hurt.

"congratulations."

"yeah, yeah i— congratulations?" you turn towards the male, who was holding out his paper with the number '96' on it.

it took you a few seconds to digest the whole scenario. you actually beating him by two points? it might not seem a lot to other people, but to you? two points felt like you'd just won a competition first place with a gold medal.

the corner of your lips twitched upwards, "i did it."

gojo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, he didn't seem too affected by your score, "guess you did. congrats."

the whole thing felt a little too good to be true, you tried doing anything to wake up from this dream. pinching yourself, smacking yourself, but nothing happened — this is real life.

and you finally beat gojo satoru in a brain game.

"oh my god, okay — i am freaking out a bit." you tell him, a small smile plastered on your face. in that moment, you wanted to just scream, shout, and let all your euphoria out.

"hold your horses, we still have economics next week." he chuckles, shaking his head.

but you were too ecstatic to hinder his words, standing up, you ran out of the class with sporadic steps. you jumped down a few steps of stairs and approached a vending machine giddily, inserting a bill and pressing on a big can of pop.

opening it with a slight 'pop!' you chugged down on the contents happily, walking all around the school property with a big smile that brought people into a state of wonder. asking themselves to why you could be this happy.

finding yourself on the rooftop, you inhaled sharply. letting the summer breeze caress your face lightly, you sat down around the corner of the staircase, scrolling through your phone happily. even to commemorate the day — you'd mark it in your phone's calendar, naming the day "the day i finally beat gojo satoru's brain power!"

hugging the device, elated. you look up towards the blue sky, was this it? was everything you sacrificed just for today? could you finally study without the burden of beating him in the future?

you hear the door to the rooftop open with a loud slam, flinching a bit. startled at how loud it was, and to your dismay, it was the deep, agonizing laugh of gojo satoru that made you freeze on your spot.

"y/n got higher in statistics? woah." you recognized that voice as geto suguru, one of gojo's closest friend besides shoko ieiri, "what did you do?"

at the mention of your name and last week's statistic test, your ears perked up a bit. gojo's deep chuckles resounds and he cleared his throat, "i could've beat them if i wanted to."

you bit the inner of your cheek silently, "could've? why didn't you?"

"i felt bad for them."

that was it. those three words were all it took to dissipate the ecstasy you felt for a short while. turns out it was all a fluke? you blinked in confusion, does that mean you beating him was all a planned thing he made?

"what do y'mean feel bad?"

"i don't know suguru, they look like they're trying so hard," gojo mumbles out lightly. even if there were no signs of mockery in his voice, still, you felt as if this was an unfair win for you (not that there was a win-lose from the beginning, you just made it up along the way).

the disappointment seeped in, and you felt a sense of languor washing over you. he was just letting you win, standing up slowly, you brushed your outfit — making your presence known to the two friends.

"you're a fucking prick, you know that?"

gojo looks back at you, his eyes widening the slightest bit, obviously not expecting you to be here, "how long have you been listening to us?" he asks you softly, exhaling slowly as if he had been holding a deep breath.

"it doesn't matter how long i've been listening to you, fuck you."

gojo's face fell as you began leaving the rooftop, he contemplated on chasing after you, but stopped himself from doing so. assuming you wouldn't be in the right mind to be talking to him right now.

or ever.

which was proven by the constant game of cat-and-mouse, he and you were doing.

"y/n, can we talk—" you brushed past him like he didn't matter, and gojo swore he felt his heart break a little when you walk by him, not even sparing a glance. but he didn't chase after you.

for the next couple of weeks, the male has been nothing but desperate. trying to reach out to you both online and offline, but much to his dismay, none of them had the feedback he needed to hear. and it fucking broke him.

"y/n, can we please talk about this?" he asks you as you took a seat on your assigned seat like the usual, but you didn't give him the attention, "please don't ignore me, talk to me."

he sounded so desperate. at this point, it was like the male was at school for you and you only. he just needed to talk to you about everything, get things straight, and live life like the usual. fighting about grades, teasing you about it, even if you return it with simple insults or the language of sarcasm.

he just needed that y/n back.

as you stood up, this time gojo chases after you, grabbing your wrist as you slipped away from the door, "talk to me, please," he mutters out lowly, his grasp so gentle.

you furrowed your brows and pulled your wrist away before turning away, walking further from where he stood.

"why won't you talk to me?" he asks you out, his voice echoing throughout the hallway of the third floor, "why won't you let me explain what i really meant by what i said that day? why won't you give me a chance to talk about it? why won't you talk to me?"

it irked you. he succeeded in stopping your walk, making you glance back at him in annoyance, "i didn't mean it in a way i didn't trust that you could beat me in the test," he said, standing in the same spot, the creases in between his brows deepening and a big frown latched on his lips.

"i see you everyday, ruining yourself to try and beat me. i can't fucking stand it y/n— you're killing yourself slowly. and i don't like that," he tells you, "i didn't even know why this was a competition in the first place, you're a smart person, why do you have to validate that by trying to beat my grades?"

you clenched your fists in annoyance. annoyed that he was somehow right on point. yet again, he was right.

gojo looks at you, waiting for an answer. his eyes profusely blinking as if he was holding back tears, which wasn't the point. you spared him an odd look, trying to walk away yet again. but the male was ready to hold you in your place, gripping your arm.

"why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks you.

"doing what?" you finally answered him.

"this. everything."

i look him dead in the eyes, "because i fucking hate the fact that you're beating me in the only one thing i'm good at. i don't fucking know gojo, the fact that i'm actually not that good at the one thing i assumed i'm good at is pissing me off — you're pissing me off!"

"y/n, what the fuck are you talking about?"

you pulled your arm away, "look at you. you're attractive and you're smart — i don't think i'm attractive, so i just try to be smart, but i'm apparently not doing a fucking good job at it too."

gojo heaves out a sigh, "so you think i'm attractive and smart?"

you look at him in disbelief, "how is that important right now?"

"it is important. the person i like thinks i'm attractive and smart," he tells you.

"okay, so what if i find you attractive and smart— did you just say you like me, gojo? what the fuck?" you asked him, very surprised and he sent you a charming smile.

"how is that important right now?" he questions back, grabbing your hand, giving it a light squeeze, "what matters is that you're not going to ignore me again, because frankly speaking, i fucking hate it when you're ignoring the fuck out of me y/n. i don't care if you insult or talk shit about me, just don't ignore me."

i look at him, mouth slightly agape, "can we talk about the 'the person i like' part, please?" you posed a question, still in disbelief.

"no. that's not important."

"yes it is important, gojo."

"so when it comes to my feelings to you, it's suddenly important? can we talk about your feelings to me after then?" you shook your head and walked away after that sole question, "that's a bit unfair don't you think? and why the hell are you walking away? come back!"

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[alwaysmicado]

smile, baby

5.1k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, drinking, degradation, orgasm denial, masturbation (m), spitting, big fat cumshot Summary: Nathan teaches you a lesson in submission. You hate love it. A/N: Filth with heart. I can't be normal about this man, okay? Can be read alone or as a prequel to in control and predator & prey. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ��

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off.”

– – –

“What are we doing tonight?” You sit down on the couch beside Nathan, a glass of wine in hand. 

“I’m watching TV,” he answers coldly without as much as a glance in your direction.

“Hmm…okay,” you murmur. You take a generous sip from your glass, appreciating Nathan’s excellent taste in wine. It’s your favorite; you discovered it on a trip to France during your college years and haven’t been able to find it since then. 

What an incredible coincidence that he would just have it here, right?

Not right.

Unbeknownst to you, Nathan meticulously arranged every single detail of your living environment before you even crossed the threshold of his mansion for the first time. 

The exquisite wine you now sip, seemingly a stroke of luck, was deliberately stocked to align with your taste. Much like the lavender shampoo that envelops you in its soothing fragrance during each shower, the never-ending supply of fresh strawberries, and the perpetually replenishing KitKats in your minibar, each aspect of your surroundings has been carefully curated to ensure your every comfort is met.

You haven’t really picked up on that fact yet, as you’re still in the process of settling into your new, exciting, but overwhelming environment.

In the two weeks since moving in, you’ve immersed yourself in the intricacies of artificial intelligence, navigating the uncharted waters of innovation under Nathan’s eccentric mentorship.

And eccentric, he is.

It took you five minutes of mostly one-sided conversation to realize that his intellect, an unmatched force of brilliance, is rivaled only by the staggering magnitude of his ego.

And, even more strikingly, it took you just as little time to realize you’ve never craved another human being as badly as you do him. There’s just something about him…beneath all the arrogance and assholery. You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel it’s there.

Nathan sensed your immediate attraction to him, of course, reading your microexpressions and body language. And after a few days of subtle teasing, he decided to give you a small taste of pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of, only to leave you without it for the past week since then.

Beyond lingering glances, the subtle brush of his hand against the small of your back in the kitchen, the knowing smirk when he catches you stealing glances at the bulge in his shorts, or his deliberate choice to work out shirtless—Nathan has been purposefully cold, relishing in your growing desperation.

For him, this is more than a game; he revels in a level of amusement he hasn’t experienced in years.

He could never get the androids to look at him with the same intensity, hunger, and raw need he can see in your eyes, and the control he now holds over your desires is a source of unparalleled satisfaction.

He definitely made the right choice by selecting you.

Nestling your feet under you in an attempt to find comfort on the cushion, you silently study your boss’s profile, observing as he brings the fourth bottle of beer to his lips. Your eyes slowly trace the distinct contours of his nose, the meticulous lines of his beard, the strength evident in his neck and shoulders, until they finally reach the casual sprawl of his naked feet at rest on the coffee table.

His lidded eyes remain unwaveringly fixated on the screen as he leisurely surfs through the channels, a deliberate act of indifference that extends to ignoring your presence. You nervously chew on your lip, trying your hardest not to break the silence first, even though you so obviously want to.

Seemingly absorbed in the movie he settled on, Nathan is keenly aware of your eyes repeatedly drifting towards him, lingering for a few seconds before retreating reluctantly back to the indifferent glow of the screen. 

You’re so cute when you’re trying to be coy. 

“Did you think of me?” he asks suddenly, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Did I…huh?” you respond, startled, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He turns his head to look at you, his face revealing no emotion, his dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze drops to your lips for a split second before finding your sparkling eyes again. 

“When you were fucking yourself with that purple dildo last night. Did you think of me?” He peers at you with a straight face, casually taking another sip from his bottle. 

“Wha–”

Your heart skips a beat, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks as his words hang in the air. Shocked and exposed, your eyes widen, and your body tenses. After a few endless seconds, surprise turns into a mixture of anger and humiliation as you figure out how he knows.

Mother. Fucker. There’s a fucking camera in your room.

“No need to act embarrassed, baby,” he scoffs. “You put on quite a show.”

“It’s not technically a show when I’m unaware that my pervy boss is watching me, though, is it?” you snap at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well. It’s all in the NDA you signed.”

“Oh, of course it is,” you chuckle incredulously, looking up at the high ceiling of the living room. 

“Did you think of me?” Nathan asks again, his eyes not leaving you.

“Uh...yeah, I did.” You down the rest of your wine in one go.

“Tell me about it.”

You sigh deeply. “You saw everything, so why don’t you tell me?” you say, unsuccessfully trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance.

Nathan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

When he had you on your knees in front of him a week ago, hands tied behind your back, allowing you a few seconds to catch your breath before going back to fucking your throat, he asked if you’d thought of him while touching yourself. You were flying high at that point, teetering on the edge, so desperate for release that you would have admitted anything he asked.

And so, you blurted out the truth. 

He can tell you regret it now, but that only makes him want to push you further. The thought of forcing you to admit what you want, what you are, has his cock hardening in his sweatpants. 

“Okay, fine,” you murmur, unable to take the deafening silence anymore. You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“I couldn’t fall asleep and thought…you know, an orgasm might help. So I started with my hand, trying to get myself off as fast as possible. But then, um, that wasn’t enough,” you trail off, your gaze avoiding his, and you set the empty wine glass on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Look at me, baby.”

Nathan studies your face, typically adorned with a confident smile, and feels a surge of satisfaction as he takes in your dilated pupils and bashful expression. This is turning you on.

“Continue.”

“My fingers weren’t enough, so I thought I could use the toy I brought. I, um,” you inhale and exhale deeply, “I imagined it was you and I thought of what you…I thought of what you’d do to me.”

Anxiously, you search his eyes for a sign of approval, your heart racing in your chest.

“What did you think I’d do to you?” he asks, taking a swig of his beer without breaking eye contact.

You swallow audibly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks ablaze with heat. The sensation coursing through your body is undeniable—an intoxicating blend of humiliation and arousal.

Under Nathan’s intense scrutiny, you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second, succumbing to the forbidden pleasure of confessing your innermost, shameful desires.

“I thought you’d grab me like last time and kiss me…kiss my neck, bite my lip, hold me down while…” you stop again, too ashamed to go on.

“Hold you down while?” Nathan prompts, making it clear that you’re not done talking.

You tilt your head and furrow your brow as your gaze lingers on the man who has dominated every waking thought since the first time your eyes locked with his.

He’s condescending, self-centered, moody, and so used to playing God in his kingdom of androids that he’s seemingly forgotten how to connect with humans and their emotions. And yet, there’s an inexplicable allure about him that has you longing for his touch, his attention, his…guidance.

What is going on with you?   

“I imagined you’d put your weight on me, keeping me pinned down, making it impossible for me to get away,” you say, peering at him through your lashes. “You’d fuck me, hard, using me in any way you like.”

You bite your lip and shift in your seat, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you catch sight of Nathan’s hard cock twitching beneath the elastic fabric of his sweatpants. He’s still looking at you, his casual demeanor unchanged, beer in hand on his belly. 

“You’d take, um, you’d take control of me, choking me, muffling my screams with your hand, grabbing my tits. I’d beg you to let me come, you’d bring me right to the edge and then you’d stop, denying me over and over again, and using me until I…”

“Until you?”

The subtle arch of Nathan’s eyebrow, the lingering scent of his beard oil, the way his lips press against the glass bottle’s opening—it all ignites an overwhelming surge of arousal within you, urging you to give him what he wants.

“Until I couldn’t take it anymore,” you purr seductively, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

“Is that the thought that made you squirt all over your bed?”

Your jaw drops and your chest tightens, the humiliation intensifying as he talks about this intimate, vulnerable moment with such nonchalance. Like it’s not a complete invasion of your privacy. Like he’s not penetrating the very core of your personal boundaries. 

You feel a flutter in your stomach, and your throat constricts as you struggle to find your words.

“I…no,” you murmur, averting your gaze. Your eyes land on Nathan’s hand gripping the bottle a little harder than before. “What pushed me over the edge was you telling me to come.” 

When your eyes meet his again, you recognize the same dark glint in them that you saw seconds before his lips crashed against yours for the first time. 

“I would beg you to let me come over and over again, and you’d always deny me…until you decided I deserved it. And when you, uh, when you ordered me to come on your cock, I came so hard I lost all control.” 

Nathan can barely hold back a groan as you confess your desire for his dominance. His cock is leaking precum, staining the inside of his pants. He’s this close to ripping your clothes off and taking you right here, right now, burying himself deep inside you and filling you up with his cum. 

But that’s not the plan for tonight.

“Is that so,” is all he says, turning his head back to the TV, a satisfied, almost unnoticeable smirk playing on his lips. He chugs the rest of his beer, then sets the empty bottle down on the little side table next to him. 

Keeping his eyes on the flickering screen, he purposely ignores you again, reveling in the escalating neediness and desperation he perceives from you. He can sense your fidgeting and squirming beside him, uncertain of your next move. After a brief pause, you lift your hand but retract it hesitantly. Amused, Nathan catches a glimpse of your indecision from the corner of his eye.

You’re such a perfect little slut—beautiful, eager, smart, pliant. And it just tickles him that you could scream at him to fuck your ass harder during sex, but act all shy and flustered when asked to talk about it. 

Another minute of silence, and you’re unable to resist any longer. Your swollen clit is painfully sensitive, your damp panties are clinging to your pussy, and your brain is screaming at you to make a move. You reach out again, this time making contact with Nathan’s clothed chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart becomes palpable under your touch, and feeling his body connected with yours has you pressing your thighs together. 

Your breath quickens as you slowly start trailing your hand down his chest and his belly, but before you get a chance to touch his cock, he stills your hand with his.

“Don’t,” he says without looking at you.

You wince and immediately pull your hand away, clasping it protectively against your chest with your other hand.

“I thought…sorry.” You look at him like he just slapped you.

Nathan sighs, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no scolding, no inquiries, no indication of what he wants you to do—it’s unnerving. You’re fidgeting with your shirt again, clearing your throat, and shifting your legs, trying to find a position that will alleviate at least some of the burning ache in your core. 

“Can I–” you say quietly, but cut yourself off. You’re facing him completely now, feet tucked under you, hands on your thighs, a silent restraint preventing you from reaching out to touch him again.

Satisfied that you’re learning, he decides to reward you with his attention. His eyes find yours again, and he’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. It’s not just lust or neediness; no, you’re lost. Completely, unequivocally lost without his orders.

Nathan’s used to Kyoko looking at him with a blank face, awaiting his commands, reacting to his actions, doing what he programmed her to do. But this is different.

You actually want him to tell you what to do.

He takes his feet off the coffee table and scoots back in his seat, spreading his legs. “Sit on the floor,” he orders, watching with an imperceptible smile as your eyes light up. You quickly get off the couch and kneel on the floor between his legs, your eyes fixated on the outline of his cock inches from your face.

You want to taste it so bad you can feel yourself salivating at the sight. You bite your lip and move a little closer, looking up at Nathan expectantly before gently putting your hands on his thighs. He lifts his hips slightly, groaning at the delicious feeling of his tip rubbing against his pants. You take that as a sign to continue, moving your hands further up to the waistband.

“No,” he says calmly before you can pull it down. 

“Why not?” You don’t pull away your hands this time. “You’re hard. Why won’t you let me–”

“Look.” He leans down to tilt your chin up with his thumb and index finger. “I get that you’re a needy whore and seeing my cock instinctively makes you want to suck it, I really do, baby,” he scoffs, condescension dripping from his words. “But I honestly thought you’d be able to follow a simple instruction even dogs can understand.”

A sharp inhale catches in your throat and your eyes widen at his demeaning words. Your gaze locked onto his, you can feel a surge of frustration coursing through your veins, tinged with a spark of defiance. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

Nathan tilts his head, studying your expression, your reaction. You could have slapped him by now, stormed off, told him to go fuck himself—anything. But no, you’re still kneeling between his legs, lust and determination evident in your eyes.

“Let’s try this again, hm?” His thumb gently traces your bottom lip. The sensation sends a wave of ecstasy through your body and it takes all of your self-control not to start sucking on his finger. He can read in your eyes what you’re thinking, so he repeats the motion with your upper lip just to test your resolve. 

The way you squirm under his touch is mesmerizing and oh so gratifying.

“Sit on the floor.”

He releases his hold on your chin, reclines into the couch, grabs another beer from the side table, and redirects his attention back to the TV. 

You decide to crawl out from between his legs, ensuring he gets a tantalizing view of your shapely ass in those snug yoga shorts. Leaning against the couch with a deep sigh, you position yourself next to his leg. You glance up at him, searching for a sign that he’s happy with your obedience—and also very much hoping for a reward that involves him fucking your brains out again. 

It’s not as if you don’t deserve it for enduring his grandiose monologues and drunken crying sessions every other night. Besides, you’re hot, and he should be so lucky…

To your frustration, though, he’s ignoring you again, absentmindedly tapping the beer bottle with his index finger as his eyes stay focused on the movie. He can feel your annoyance, your anger, and it’s almost enough to get his softening cock hard again.

You sit in silence for a minute before quietly scooting closer and gently leaning against Nathan’s leg. Feeling him, even through fabric, is enough to embolden you to go further. You look up at him, trying to be sneaky. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixated on the TV, one hand cradling his beer, the other casually draped over the backrest. 

You’re not giving up that easily. Your pussy won’t let you. Just one little touch, and you’re convinced you can get him in the mood. Just one little touch, and he won’t be able to resist you. Just one little–

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Then why the fuck am I down here?”

“Because I want you to be.”

“Oh, wow,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “And now what? You think I’m just gonna sit here and watch you get drunk?”

He ignores your pouting.

“I got better stuff to do, you know.”

He turns up the volume of the TV. 

“This is so dumb, Nathan. Why do you want me to sit here if you’re just gonna ignore me?”

“You like it when I tell you what to do,” he says calmly.

You’re taken aback by his statement and furrow your brow. “Well, yeah…but this isn’t…I–”

He looks down at you, effectively shutting you up.

It’s absolutely amazing how he can watch in real time as the defiant fire in your eyes fizzles out. The small, self-satisfied smile creeping across his arrogant face stings.

He’s such a cocky bastard.

You huff agitatedly, cross your arms in front of your chest, demonstratively turn away from him, and kick your legs out from under you. Nathan, on the other hand, relaxes in his seat. He’s thoroughly enjoying your little show, and your pouting doesn’t bother him. Not as long as you’re doing what you’re told. 

After a few minutes of listening to the blood rushing in your ears and the occasional gulping sound coming from Nathan working on his beer, you can’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m not just gonna stay down here,” you hiss at him. 

“Yes, you are.”

Unbelievable. 

You stare at him incredulously. “And what makes you so sure of that, huh? I could just walk away and leave you here to sulk. I don’t need this, okay? And you–you can’t just–”

Nathan says your name sharply. “Stop your whining. You’re sitting on the floor because I told you to. That’s it.”

He looks at you, his eyebrow arched, daring you to defy him.

“That’s it?” you repeat, your eyes narrowed. 

Nathan smirks and turns towards the TV again, slowly sipping his beer.

“Yup. That’s it.”

You glower at him, and, for a brief moment, he half-expects you to finally get up and storm out in frustration. He wouldn’t mind, really. But there seems to be a subtle shift within you, and after a few tense seconds, you release a long, aggravated breath. Turning away from him, you cross your arms with annoyance, and firmly plant your back against the couch.

Nathan keeps an eye on you, observing how your tense posture relaxes and how you make yourself comfortable after a few more minutes of sitting at his feet. 

It’s an image he wants to savor.

You’ve been good for some time now, doing what he told you to do, submitting to him nicely. He decides to reward your obedience, reaching out to pet the back of your head. You’re startled and your body stiffens at his touch, but he can feel you relax more and more with each gentle stroke of his palm up and down the nape of your neck. He gives you a soothing massage, soft scratches, allows you to lean into his touch. 

He’s stroking you for some time, relishing the feeling of dominance, of control, until a quiet moan escapes your lips. 

Nathan smiles to himself and tightens his grip on your neck for a few seconds, intensifying the sensation. You sigh in pleasure and close your eyes, getting lost in his forceful touch. He then loosens his grip, and you release a contented sigh as you rest your head against his leg. He lets you, gently scratching your scalp, your soft moans music to his ears.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s so much better when you do what I say, hm?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your brow furrowed.

Seeing you look up at him with those pretty, lust-filled eyes of yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

“You can just do what you’re told,” he says, his fingers gently tracing your neck. “You don’t have to think, or ask questions. You can just let yourself fall and give up control.”

Your eyes widen, and he caresses your cheek. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off. Not having to think for yourself, not having to make decisions.”

You don’t respond, mesmerized by his dark eyes and calm voice. There’s a hint of surprise in your expression, but that doesn’t surprise him. You’ve been suppressing your desire for submission for a long time, and now, he’s presenting you with the chance to finally embrace it.

“If I want you to sit on the floor because that’s where I feel you belong, you don’t ask why. You just do it,” he says, running his thumb over your lips again. “Right?”

You nod slowly and press your thighs together with a little whine. Your panties are drenched and it physically hurts you how empty you feel.

“Very good,” Nathan murmurs, pressing his thumb against your lips, and giving you a quick nod when you look at him questioningly. You open your mouth for him to slide his finger inside, your eyes going even wider at the sensation.

Nathan’s cock twitches at your total submission.

He gently thrusts his thumb in and out of your mouth, sliding it along your warm tongue. You suck and lick it seductively, eyes half-closed as you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as if to show him what his cock is missing.

He sucks in a sharp breath and takes his thumb back out of your mouth, pulling down your bottom lip slowly before bringing his face close to yours.

You half-expect him to kiss you, but instead he murmurs, “Clothes off, hands on your thighs.”

He watches contentedly as your eyes light up, and you eagerly follow his orders, pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, pulling down your shorts and panties in one swift motion.

“Kneel over there,” he says, directing you to a spot away from the couch.

He gets up and pulls down his sweatpants, letting them fall onto the floor. You stare at his cock with need, awe, and a tinge of fear—your holes were sore for days after your last encounter. He smiles to himself, crossing the distance between you two, and positioning himself in front of you. 

You’re sitting back on your heels, thighs spread, your hands firmly placed on them, your glistening pussy on display. There’s a smooth arch in your back and your head is tilted upwards as you wait for further instructions.

Nathan looks down at you, his eyes scanning your naked body, spits in his hand and starts stroking his cock. He groans at the delicious feeling of finally getting some relief. He hasn’t jerked off all day, despite watching the tape of you fucking yourself after he got up this morning. And after lunch. And again this afternoon.

To say he’s pent up would be an understatement.

“That’s it,” he moans, wasting no time to tease himself. His right hand sets a steady pace, sliding up and down his length with honed efficiency.

“I’m gonna come all over your pretty face, baby. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

The thought of it, of Nathan marking you that way, dirty and wrong and everything you’re not supposed to desire, it sends a surge of heat through your body, settling in your clit with a throb.

You whimper an unintelligible response, your eyes fixated on his hand moving in practiced motions around his thick cock. Nathan chuckles above you, and you manage to tear your eyes away from his cock to catch the look of dark amusement on his face.

“You gotta speak up, baby. Or are you too cock-drunk to use your words already?”

You swallow hard and dig your nails into the flesh of your thighs. “Y-yes,” you manage to choke out. Your face burns with humiliation, intensifying your desperation as you plead, “Please come on my face, Nathan. I want you to mark me. Please give me your cum. Please.”

Shocked at your unexpectedly bold words, Nathan’s hand momentarily falters in its movement, before picking up again with increased speed.

A strangled groan bubbles out of his throat, followed by your name and a swipe of his thumb over the tip of his cock. His dark eyes meet yours for a split second, looking down at you as you’re patiently waiting for your reward with an opened mouth.

You writhe and squirm at the sound of Nathan’s groans and the intense sight of him pleasuring himself. You’ve never seen anything hotter. You want to touch yourself, to rub your clit or slip your fingers into your wet core—to finally get some release—but you resist the urge, clenching your hands into fists.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” Nathan pants, his words coming ragged and tight. He’s so close.

You look up into his lidded eyes and whisper, “Please.”

“You want that, huh? Oh fuck. Such a filthy little cumslut.”

You moan at his words and feel your walls clench in desperation. Your arousal is dripping out of your pussy onto the floor below, an obscene sight that confirms what Nathan already knew. 

You’re loving this.

Nathan’s hand is jerking his leaking cock, fast and firm, as he races toward his orgasm. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel��the wet squelching sound of his hand around his slick cock, his grunts and moans, the mumbled curses, the heat radiating off his imposing body.

You see him twitch in his hand and your swollen clit pulsates in response. He increases the speed of his hand and reaches to fondle his balls with his left hand. It takes a harsh squeeze and a “Holy shit, fuck!” before he’s coming with a long, low moan.

Your eyes shut instinctively but you don’t flinch as you can feel it hitting your face and tits in hot, wet spurts. You stay still, like the good girl that you are, moaning as another thick rope of Nathan’s cum lands across your lips, dripping into your mouth, salty and bitter on your tongue. 

You don’t get to see his face as he comes, but the explicit sounds that reach your ears are enough to make you twitch and moan in pleasure, expanding the puddle beneath you.

Nathan strokes himself through his orgasm until his balls are empty and he’s milked every last drop out of his cock and onto your face—until he’s painted you with it, until he’s marked you as his. 

“Goddamnit.”

Spent, he lets go of his pulsating cock, putting his hands on his hips, taking a step back to take a good, long look at his work of art.

Your face is painted white with cum, spread all over your cheeks, chin, and dripping down to your tits. You put on a little show, gathering up the drops with your finger and sensually putting them on your tongue while keeping unwavering eye contact.

“You can swallow,” Nathan says, pleased with your conduct. 

You do as he says, happily adding some more cum from your lips, and swallowing it all down with a blissed-out smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” you coo.

“Such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, stepping closer. He bends down, grabs the back of your neck forcefully, and tilts your head up.

“Open your mouth, slut. Tongue out.”

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for him to see. He leans in to let a big glob of his spit fall directly into your open mouth. He hums in satisfaction as he watches you swallow it eagerly, and then he finally kisses you, dirty and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, bucking your hips, desperate for him to finally touch your neglected pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, making you moan. “Now, go get cleaned up.”

Oh no, he wouldn’t.  

You stare at him with wide eyes. “But I–”

“Go. Get. Cleaned. Up.”

“But I haven’t…what about me?” you stammer, your voice trembling. 

“What about you?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your face falls and his cock pulsates at your expression. You look like you’re close to crying, your thighs pressed together to alleviate your aching clit, your nails painfully digging into your palms. You’re shaking with anger and frustration.

Nathan’s never been as turned on as he is from seeing you suffer—you’re just so pretty when you’re denied.

He can already picture himself playing with every part of you for hours on end, denying you over and over again until your body is ablaze with burning anticipation. And then, once he’s finally reduced you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, he’ll wrap his hand around your throat and make you take him until you beg him to stop.

But that’s for another day. 

“Smile, baby,” he smirks, tapping your cum-stained cheek and straightening up to get himself another beer from the kitchen. “You’re on camera.”

– – –

Thank you for reading! 🤍

in control || predator & prey || main masterlist

tagging: @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute let me know if you want me to add you!

[heysawbones]

Earlier today, I asked Google about removing the ink from a gel pen cartridge. Google thought I meant, “how do you revive a dead gel pen?” No. See. Sometimes, when you’re using gel pens in ways they were never meant to be used, you find the ballpoint inadequate. In my case, it was too big to get into tight spots on the doll shoe I was detailing. Gel ink is water soluble. You should be able to paint with it. Right?

But how do you get it out? Is the coverage okay? Folks,

the coverage is excellent.

You can learn how to free the gel ink from its tiny prison, plus the pros and cons below the cut.

Here’s the tools I used, except the hobby/model drill. That turned out to be unnecessary. A syringe, some kind of needle OR stiff catheter of similar dimensions, and scissors will do the trick.

I cut the pen above the stopper and below the ink/air bubble. If a gel pen is old enough or you have enough patience, sometimes you can wiggle the stopper out of the bottom of a gel pen instead. If that’s an option, I’d recommend it for reasons I’ll touch on later.

The tip of a Sakura Gellyroll has two notches in the plastic where the ballpoint head is seated in the grip. I used the eye end of a fat yarn needle to wedge into that notch and loosen the tip and cartridge until I could remove them from the grip. I think you could get away without removing the tip and cartridge, but I found it easier/neater to do it this way.

This shows where I cut into the cartridge: between the end of the air bubble, and the end of the ink. The more ink your pen has, the smaller - and possibly harder to identify - this area is.

Unfortunately, my syringe was not made to be used with a needle. To compensate, I used sticky-tac to cover any air gaps - vacuum is essential to a syringe. I used artist’s tape on top of that to stabilize the connection. You probably don’t need to do this, but if you do, there you go. I bet heavily chewed bubblegum would work, too. Or clay. Or lots of things.

I really didn’t think this would work, due to bad luck with past attempts. It does work.

Here, I’m using a kolinsky sable to pick up the ink but any pointed brush meant for acrylic, watercolor, or ink should do the trick.

THE OPACITY. THE PIGMENT LOAD. THE ABILITY TO DETAIL TINY AREAS

—

PROS.

-Incredibly opaque for something water-soluble and relatively low viscosity

-high pigment load

-very smooth finish

-accessible

CONS.

-If you bought gel pens with the intent of breaking them open for the beautiful ink inside, it would be expensive - especially for decent ink like Gellyroll

-Coverage is not as even with brush as it is with rollerball. This is easy to get around, but noticeable. Build up the coat until it’s opaque and smooth. Do not allow it to dry between coats. Once you’re done, put the item away to dry for as long as you can stand. DO NOT APPLY TOP COAT BY BRUSH

-Slow-drying on many surfaces if applied heavily enough for a smooth finish, but concerningly fast-drying in the syringe. It’s also unclear if recapping the original pen and sealing the cut end will preserve the ink, or if gel ink harvesting is a one-and-done where you will need to take all you can at one time, then store it in an airtight container. I’ve stuffed the cut end of my cartridge with sticky tac and put the cartridge back in the grip/recapped the pen, but it remains to be seen if this is sufficient for storage.

-Your gel pen will never be the same again: even if the ink can be preserved in the original cartridge, breaking the vacuum causes the ink to blob out of the roller ball. There’s a real possibility that this will just leak everywhere out both ends, which is why I recommend preserving the stopper at the bottom of the grip if plausible.

CONS 2,

continued (of detailing models, etc. with gel ink generally, not specifically the brush application thereof)

- Gel ink requires a porous surface. Do not expect to put pen to plastic without primer or Mr. Super Clear. The ink will consolidate centrally (proximal to heaviest application), gapping away from edges.

-Slow-drying: this takes forever, and it is easy to ruin a finish in the meantime.

—Durability: essentially none. Wait at least a few hours after you think the gel is dry, then apply a clear coat. SPRAY ONLY. Do NOT go back over it with a wet brush, as you risk reactivating the ink and ruining all your hard work. Spray works because it is ruining the finish evenly, and therefore, not at all. Wait and then apply the top coat again. These top coats will be your durability.

[gojowh0rcs]

I’m on my period and I’m just picturing what thatd be like with Gojo as a bf. He definitely believes in PMSing. The whole shebang. He’s def annoying about it too so if you do end up snappin at him (cuz ur bleedin out ur coochie and maybe crampin so his usual teasing just feels sm more grating than normal) it doesn’t do much to refute his belief in PMS and the women being emotional and downright erratic during that time of the month (stupid man moment). he definitely picks up based on behavior when his girl is on her period too (or even before it comes if there’s a sudden mood change a week before). because even if he’d be a shit bf in terms of presence, he definitely studies his girl and notices all her little mannerisms and behaviors. he’s a highly observant individual and the six eyes just heightens everything too. notices the little twitch in ur finger or the way ur wrist flexes when your nervous type shit, but he never really says anything to allude to it or brags about it v much (unless he’s deliberately being an asshole and you think you could hide smth from him and he just feels like not giving it to you this one time so he throws it in ur face in a humorous but still very blunt and harsh way). and he doesn’t always help out with his s/o’s anxieties or just things she’s not willing to mention first neither. I think most of the time he’ll give his s/o their space to figure out things themselves and tends to mind his business unless they ask for help. That’s mostly a testament to how bad he is at comforting though. Unlike someone like Yuji, who I picture is probably just as confused on how to comfort his girl (specifically), he’d still try and it’s in his earnest sincerity at wanting to alleviate whatever she’s dealing with (and probably shoulder the weight entirely if he was allowed that opportunity), that he usually puts a smile on his girls face. Yuji is just a sweetheart, but he’s clumsy and he probably fucks up all the time. However it’s in the intention and his honest heart that a s/o could overlook any mishaps (most of the time).

GOJO on the other hand is not nearly that honest or earnest. He’s calm cool and collected. And he’s naturally a little mean too. Like he probably thinks at first his s/o could suck it up. Like shouldn’t you be used to this already? Just seems like a woman thing he doesn’t particularly understand so maybe he should stay away if he irks her nerves more than usual. But when it’s actually weighing on her or if she’s particularly uncomfortable and it’s out of her realm of control, Gojo does take pity. And he is still protective, even tho he’s detached. If he could take away her pain or switch roles he would without a second thought. But he can’t. And asking if she needs anything might feel a little embarrassing because that means he doesn’t already know what to do. (That and he doesn’t really have that nurturing of a personality so it feels a lil odd comin from his mouth). But Satoru Gojo failing at something??? Unthinkable. Unheard of. Fake news. He ends up googling how to help period pains and ends up finding some forum or subreddit of equally confused husbands and boyfriends. He ends up reading everything he could find and educating himself on the horrors and facts of menstruation and ends up learning more than he bargains for. But now he’s excelling most of the male population again and it’s just another notch in his belt, proof of not only being the strongest but the most knowledgeable 😎✨. (ends up braggin to some of his male students or colleagues like WOW how can YOU NOT know the strength of a period cramp could crush a can cmon megumi ur lackin). He also half thinks he should get some points for being so considerate and sweet. So he’s half expecting a big fat kiss and some praise when he suddenly strolls in with a bunch of bags of supplies and chocolate since he read somewhere more than half of women crave chocolate on their first days of menstruation. Snacking out on that is smth he can definitely help you with if you feel guilty for piggin out. When he finds out occasionally rubbing your back, watching movies, eatin junk and cuddles on your really bad days is all you really need to be satiated, he thinks it’s a pretty sweet deal. It might even become a frequent enough occurrence for him to call it something egregious like period parties. He’s ur pms partner ❤️ (you can smack him)

[janitorsupplies]

a gripe about the boys s4 finale + more

[big fat diabolical spoilers for the s4 finale]

tw: general the boys stuff,, Hughie's r*pe

after thinkin for a little while i'm not happy about the finale tbh !

and its not that i don't like it in the way that i don't like how it turned out, i think it leaves room for an excellent final season (i will wait 2 years for that, ong), i more so think that the characters in the episode acted,,, uncharacteristically?

acted not like themselves

acted out of character, yeahh

from what we've seen of sage this season (so glad she lived btw), i don't think she would just, y'know, stroll into Homelander's room, gloating like that i thought it had been established that she didn't fw Homelander anymore, especially now she's been fired, and she's smart enough to know how much of a loose cannon Homelander could be, and that if she says the wrong thing she just gets lasered (i was shitting myself hoping that wouldn't happen)

and also how tf did she even get in Vought tower?? wouldn't the other members stop her??

and then there's butcher's reaction to grace's death, like damn, i don't think Billy fucking butcher is just gonna say nothing when one of the few people he trusts gets killed right in front of him (BY HIS SON TOO??), like how is he not shouting mad??

and then he just up and kills Neuman like bruh did Hughie's talk to him mean fuckin nothing or something like, he brings up Lenny for gods sake and butcher just,, says nothing?? it's been established over the season that he's not listening to monkey at all now he knows he's not real and on that, where the fuck is Becca in his head?? what's she doing?? speak tf up, stop him

and Ryan,, Ryan wouldn't just shove his basically adoptive grandma out of anger like that, at least i don't think he would.

and this is a little difficult to explain but i don't think annie would react like that towards Hughie engaging with the carbon-copy shapeshifted Annie. like he did not know it was not her. how would he know?? i feel like Annie would've been understand of that at least, if not annoyed, but not enough to go off on him like he did something wrong

this also brings up the point of Hughie just being Kripke's punching bag for the whole damn show,, like i thought he had a character progression of becoming more brave, but nah he's just getting fucked from all directions and its written for comedy most of the time (pretty sure Kripke said that Hughie's rape scene was written for comedy,,, ha ha funny)

i'm getting distracted now, might add more to this later if i feel like it

but hey, a-train lives baby CANT STOP THE A TRAIN BABY

(EDIT) I JUST REMEMBERED THEY ENDED IT WITH NIRVANA?? FUCK YOU!!!1 FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KIMIKO SPEAKING?? FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!! FUCK!!!

oh and yeah, kate really does ruin everything, huh.

another thing i forgot did they make kimiko worse while fighting the shifter?? i feel like she woulda easily been able to drop that mf right there, but nah she gets her neck snapped ggez

[battorlstuff]

Philiph

Story Idea - Lovals (training ) 

David called me a few days ago, he told me about his situation and I decided to help him, I couldn't resist the money either.

All I had to do was ruin the body and appearance of a stud that lived in his building so I hit the road. When I saw him, I immediately knew why David was so jealous of the guy.

I did what he ask me, the 10 thousand dollars would be worth it. I sent an email and left advertising outside the department, private classes, I made him believe that he had won a one-year subscription to the program and would have free private sessions for all that time.

"Hey you must be Philip"

We greeted each other, his smile was charming and his delicate but manly face got me.

"It will be great to have the gym so close, I usually go to GYMgreeks about 30 minutes from the building."

"Oh I'm glad to hear your enthusiasm, now let's start I have another class in a few hours" that was not true but I had to avoid any suspicion.

I made him take off his shirt and gosh the guy was hot. His body was a wonder to behold his shoulders were big but not too big and he kept his triceps nicely defined, his biceps were the best part of his arms he worked them pretty hard and well and the training was noticeable, they were big, but not exaggerated, always maintaining the perfect proportion, the veins bulged along his arms and his triceps stood out without even flexing them. His neck showed prominent veins and was thick leading to a prominent clavicle and a strong, jutting chest due to a toned pair of pecs which sat on top of a well-defined six pack, every muscle showing years of hard work, Philip didn't even have to pose or try to flex their abs to show them off.

The rest of his muscles weren't far behind, his broad back ended in a framed waist and a well defined lower back, it was impossible not to admire those incredible obliques that were joined below with his magnificent deltoids.

His legs were just lovely, his round, firm ass joined to a pair of muscular thighs. His legs were long and his calves were thick making him a perfect specimen with great condition and an excellent build for any athlete.

Damn what a shame, I have to ruin that beautiful body.

"Very good I see that you are in good shape but you could use to gain... a little muscle don't you think?"

"I don't know, I've never liked being that big," said Philip doubtfully, I would have to convince him.

"Don't you think your girl would like to see you more muscular" I squeezed his biceps and it spectacular, I had a great body myself but this guy was hot.

"Hmm I don't really have a girl" this would be so easy.

"Oh, come on someone like you must have many girls drooling over, any suitor?"

"Look at those abs! tell me that the girls in the building don't like to see you shirtless" I said feeling the beautiful and marked six pack, Philip just smiled stupidly it was clear how proud he was of his body and his good looks, bingo, it was done .

"Oh well there's a girl, Camille lives in the building, but she's not in town, she went on exchange a couple of weeks ago and won't be back until the end of this year."

"Then let's surprise her, you'll look better than ever when she comes back, it'll be a <huge> surprise."

The boy did his normal training, he was really in good condition, I told him I would make some changes and I stopped him before he left.

"This supplement is the best of the best, a shake after each meal even at night if you do want to increase muscle."

"Sure, and as for the exercises, what will my routine be?"

"Don't worry, when you come tomorrow I'll have everything ready."

First week (175 lbs)

Philip actually felt his muscles grow, he was more robust and his biceps increased in size. The muscle mass was actually the beginning of his new body, the fat from the shakes began to accumulate in his muscles, deteriorating them.

Second week (179lbs)

Philiph had started to lose definition, mainly in his abs, his arms looked spectacular but Andrew knew that Philip's muscles were already accumulating fat and soon they wouldn't look like this. In addition, his vision became blurred, it was strange, he felt scarred and weaker, even his appetite increased.

Third week (183 lbs)

He thought he was getting stronger lifting the weights more easily, little did he know that Andrew had planned everything well, actually Philip was decreasing the weight he was carrying no matter the size of the discs or the number written on the dumbbells, Andrew had in charge of everything The shake contained a drug that would make Philip tired quickly and keep him in a sleepy state so that he wouldn't notice the change in his body for a few months, when it would be too late to do anything about it.

First month (225 lbs)

For Andrew it became an easy task, it was rather erotic seeing the handsome jock go to the pot and turn into a pig ruining his perfect body. While Philip worked out, Andrew watched with satisfaction at the flab on the pretty boy's body, his previously firm and formidable pecs bouncing with every movement, where his six pack used to be just a flaccid roll of fat hung. Meanwhile Philip noticed that every time he looked in the mirror his vision was blurry, he felt heavy but he couldn't understand the number on the scale, maybe he was just more muscular, that should be it.

Second month (255 lbs)

The supplement had certainly done its job, Philip had lost all muscle tone now it was time to make him grow, the supplement would give him a voracious appetite, and David would take it upon himself to sabotage the pretty boy's diet, also at the end of the "treatment "Philip's metabolism would be so slow that he would never be able to lose the accumulated weight.

Those days David wanted to join in and fuck his rival a bit, so I gave Philip an "energy drink" full of the drug, he was so confused that he didn't notice that David was the one giving him the instructions.

Philip was really losing condition, running out of breath after a few minutes.

Three months later (290lbs)

Philip's pecs had already turned into moobs hanging over his new belly and Philip seemed unaware he was still drinking the shakes. Andrew suggested four jugs of the supplement per day, Philip obeyed his trainer without question.

In the mornings he was too hungry, he showered and dressed but never knew what he looked like, it was as if every time Philip tried to see his body or how much he weighed, his vision would blur and he would start to feel tired and sleepy, the only clue about his appearance were comments and compliments from Andrew about how strong he looked, he said he had never seen progress equal to his.

Andrew trained David after Philip's session ended, so he could see his rival's progress as he worked on improving his own physique while Philip's body was being ruined.

Seven months later (340 lbs)

Philip could no longer lift any weight weeks ago he struggled and almost passed out from the effort trying to lift dumbbells. There was nothing left, not a trace of the handsome and athletic stud he once was.

"Wow, I've progressed, but how many pounds have you put on this Andrew?" Philip asked naively still thinking that he was the same sexy guy who arrived seven months ago.

The handsome trainer just smiled, it was obvious that Philip was still affected by the supplement, he seemed more confused and clumsy than in the previous months.

Second week of the ninth month (410 lbs)

Finally, Philip woke up from the dream, that morning before going to the gym, he decided to try one more time to see himself in front of the mirror but this time he could see clearly.

Every trace of muscle he had left was gone. His abs had disappeared under a huge layer of fat, he could see nothing but rolls and rolls of fat around him, the huge belly hanging down. His belly rested on his thighs like a pale gelatinous mass, it was also covered in red stretch marks. that covered his round navel. He tempted his fingers over the gelatinous mass horrified to see what his enviable abs had become.

Philip watched in horror as his stomach lurched. He wanted to cry and scream, but then he looked at his thighs. They seemed bigger and softer, so much so that they clung together in huge fatty folds making his long legs look short.

His arms, the bulging veins and defined muscles that were his pride, were just pure fat, his biceps were gone and where his muscles used to be, the skin hung like misshapen folds that hung from being too flaccid to meet his lats well. , joining the part where their bibs used to be.

His big pectoral muscles were ruined, they were nothing more than oversized and greasy tits, they hung like two flaccid bags that were only supported by his flabby belly which was so big that it kept the new moobs of the once hot stud in place.

Desperately, Philip reached for the scale and climbed up, the little machine creaking and breaking under his weight, the dial marking random numbers until it went blank. Then, with a fluttering heart, he ran out of the apartment.

Before leaving he saw a note, he had been fired, hadn't been to the office in months, didn't even remember getting any calls, but no job, how come the rent was paid? Food? The cupboards were full, well maybe Andrew could help him.

He arrived at the entrance of the gym without a shirt showing his obese body covered in sweat, he was panting and his face was red from the effort and embarrassment. He had a run in with David on the stairs, it was humiliating, seeing how David made fun of him and Andrew was David's friend? Philip had to get answers. As he could and ashamed of his new body Philip put on his shirt having difficulty doing so.

Upon entering the gym Andrew was ready, preparing a shake in different jars, he only stopped when Philip came snorting.

"Sit down chubby, I think we should talk."

[fuckkbrunch]

Clear an afternoon for this one. I can see why an Italian grandma would get so upset if you don't eat enough, when she's busted her ass for a good few hours to make this.

That said, why the fuck is oxtail so expensive? It's literally a fucking tail. And why are pork neck bones so hard to find?? I substituted the neck bones for pig feet, I figured bones is bones, they were cheap. 6 bucks for 2 pounds. I'm trying to make up for the 2 pounds of oxtail costing me 30 fucking dollars.

The meats, we gottem. I got really nice hot Italian sausages from the Mediterranean market a couple weeks ago, which was a great choice.

Everything seared off and browned. Took a good while, but made an excellent fond. There's significantly more pig skin on feet than there would have been on necks, but I think the extra fat only helped the gravy in the end.

Witch's cauldron vibes. Red wine, crushed tomato, onion, garlic, stock and some spices, chuck the bones back in and boil that baby in the oven for two and a half hours. Then she'll look like that.

I literally had to buy a whole basil plant for just one sprig. No other basil at three stores. The universe loves fucking with me by making normal, easy to find ingredients rare on only the weekend I'm looking for them. I swear to fuck.

Anyway, after you chuck the sausages back in, it's meant to cook in the oven another thirty minutes, but I left it for an hour. The meat wasn't falling off the bone enough at thirty minutes. It didn't overcook the sausages, so it was definitely worth it.

Beautiful plating, I know. Not to brag, but I didn't need to add salt at the end, or any extra seasoning. I seasoned the meat and veg as I went, and did a final big pinch before I got it in the oven. Perfect.

Obligatory shot with parm. My microplane makes such pretty shavings.

I hate the idea of just having a whole fucking sausage in your pasta, so after these pictures I snipped the sausages up into disks with kitchen shears. Sue me, Tony.

| Sunday Gravy with Sausage and Rigatoni |

Taste is a 4.5 out of 5. Very good, rich and meaty.

Difficulty is a 3.5 out of 5. A lot of set up.

Time was about 4 hours. Give or take 30 minutes.

This wasn't part of his instructions, but I took out all the oxtail and pig feet and pulled any meat off. I chucked all the bones I could find in the trash before putting all the meat back in the gravy.

I didn't see any bones in the photo of the pasta being served, so I have a feeling that this step was omitted by accident. No one likes chomping down on bones in their pasta.

[your-resident-boat-person]

Kinda curious, don’t know if this has been asked, but I’m trying to get into the habit of sending more asks, so,

What’s your *least* favorite Ocean Liner?

Thank you SO much for this question. It's a little tricky to answer. Over the years, there have probably been thousands of liners, most of which nobody has ever heard of. For example, my great great grandfather came to America on the Manuel Calvo. This was a tiny no name liner that would have probably been completely forgotten to history if I wasn't such a huge boat nerd. So my least favorite would probably end up being a liner like that. In all honesty, it's probably a liner that I don't know exists.

But let's make this interesting. Let's talk about my least favorite of the "popular" liners that people actually talk about and remember. For me, that ship is the SS Normandie.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't dislike the Normandie, she's just easily my least favorite. Maybe it's because I constantly compare her to the Queen Mary. But to be fair, her rivalry with the Queen Mary is one of the most notable things about her short career. I think her exterior is just plain ugly. I don't like the way her bow is shaped, her superstructure looks weird, and she looks really short and fat, despite her relatively normal proportions on paper. Her funnels are also way too big. If you're going to have really fat funnels, they need to be short to look aesthetically pleasing (like the MV Britannic, MV Georgic, and the planned but unbuilt RMMV Oceanic). If your funnels are going to be tall, they need to be thinner to compensate. Keep in mind, I'm speaking purely about aesthetics. Not function. Just as a whole, I feel like she's just not as aesthetically pleasing as more traditional ships like the Queen Mary, Aquitania, or Olympic. And she's also not as aesthetically pleasing as more modern liners like the SS United States, Queen Elizabeth 2, or her successor: the SS France (the one from 1960).

Her interiors are another big thing for me. She was decorated in an art deco style, as was popular at the time. These interiors are gorgeous, and they look like works of art you'd see in a museum, and that's part of the problem for me. All of the marble and works of art create this imposing atmosphere like you'd feel in a museum. Museums are cool, but it wouldn't be comfortable to live in one for a week. By comparison, the Queen Mary fell very homely and comfortable. I feel like the Normandie (while undoubtedly gorgeous) wouldn't be very nice to live in for the duration of the voyage. The Queen Mary isn't nearly as flashy or pretty, but feels infinitely more comfortable.

The Normandie didn't even have an interesting career to compensate for her shortcomings (again, in my opinion). She had her maiden voyage in 1935, had a REALLY GOOD few years competing with the Queen Mary for speed records, and then got stuck in New York in 1940 when world War II broke out. She sat there for 2 years before the Americans accidentally burned her down trying to convert her into a Troop Ship. Meanwhile, the Queen Mary had a long and accomplished career, and performed excellently as a Troop Ship.

Tl;dr - The Normandie looks ugly on the outside, doesn't seem comfortable on the inside, and her career wasn't notable either.

Thank you so much for this question, and I hope you enjoyed my answer.

[the-radio-demon-blog]

Hmm. I'm glad my Krampus experience was better than yours then then.

Oh yes, I'm sure I'd get along well with Husk and Angel Dust. I'll have to share photos of my little Christmas village during the holidays. Hah...I remember I had a dream once that Angel and I were just watching dumb tik toks and giggling like mad...and he kept calling me Shortcake. Now I want someone to call me that irl. 😅

I'm not typically one for parties. I either stick like glue to one or two people I know...or if there's any kind of pet, I will disappear to hang out with it. I found goats and chickens at a cousin's outdoor wedding once. After dinner, no one saw me again. 😂 That being said, Charlie's costume party actually sounds fun! Maybe I could crash it for a bit this year. Idk if you're aware, but Florida absolutely contains portals to hell, which is why I'm able to pop in from time to time. I suppose because I'm super *not* dead, I just sort of get...popped back home after a bit. Lol. I love dressing up. My last Halloween costume, I was Beetlejuice. Wore a black and white striped dress, my friend did my makeup and we spray painted my hair green. 😁

A lottery! Intriguing. Maybe a bit alarming for us over worlders. Hah. Though, things are pretty bad up here. We'd probably barely notice any chaos a demon visitor would cause! Hah!

I'm very curious, what do you think you would do up here if you won this lottery? 🤔

Oh bad Stanley! We need to have a chat. No eating pets. I support Angel Dust's chasing him off with a bat if he tries to eat Fat Nuggets again. Are you not feeding him enough pedophiles, Alastor??

We're opposite ends on The Shining. I've only watched the movie and not read the book. I know King is brilliant, but I think I got halfway through one his books once. Surprisingly not a huge fan of most horror. But it's only bc...none of it scares me, so I usually feel kind of disappointed? I'll like those kinds of movies if they're well written/have some humor/have a good aesthetic. The art school bitch in me is sated by beautiful camera work and colors. Haha. Oh, recommendation, watch Crimson Peak.

Hahah. Don't worry. I won't be calling you Big Al. Was only teasing. I don't like it either. Hah.

No offense taken at the drunk comments. I suppose it hasn't been a bad experience for me since I've never been so drunk I wasn't unaware of what I was doing. I used to go to bars a lot (had a lot of musician friends then...I've been to a frankly obscene number of open mics) so I feel you on being subjected to obnoxious inebriated people. I generally drank a coke...or if I was feeling particularly feisty...a Shirley Temple. 🤣 You'd be amazed the side eye and teasing I'd get for that order. Never cared, those things are tasty!

I promise to not call you the c word again. Though, if you piss me off, I will definitely call you the *other* c-word. Heh. Will just settle on calling you dapper, eh? It's an excellent and underused word in modern times.

Appreciate your discretion and care in the imaginary unwanted drunk cuddle scenario. Lol. That is, dare I say it, rather sweet. You are surprising!

I also quite enjoy our conversations, so thank you! 😊

Work was alright on Friday (I left early for another baseball game so that helped, lol). I was training a new hire all day. He's great; laughs at my jokes (v important), is COMPETENT. He gave me candy! PLEASE DON'T QUIT I scream internally.

Let's see...I have a sort of a joke for you. Hopefully you appreciate a nerdy joke like I do.

oh shit - i was time travelling and accidentally killed an ancient italian. doesn’t matter tho everyone was killing each other, when in Reme do as the Remans

And for today's photo I present this chaos table covered in several dozen Halloween decorations. They're here until I get them all set up nicely, hopefully this weekend.

https://imgur.com/a/GEn1kDX

I really need to think of a song rec again. I haven't seen any on your tumblr for a while...*sad face*

I'm off to pick up a werewolf! I will not be elaborating.

After while, crocodile 🐊

I can imagine Angel Dust doing something of the like. At least he gave you a somehow respectful nickname: Shortcakes. Compared to Smiles.

Hah, well you and I are very different. I would rather spend time with people than pets. However I suppose to each their own. People entertain me far more, pets are simply loving. Oh well, I hope your cousin's did leave some tempting animals to play with. It was on them that you didn't return to dinner. Hah!

Yes, Charlie's costume parties are always fun. Oh well, I would love if you could pay the hotel a visit! Charlie would absolutely not mind if you showed up for a Halloween party! We've had an unfortunate amount of Floridians accidently end up in Hell and it usually ends badly for them. Hah, well, thank goodness you haven't run into our rather lively denizens! Beetlejuice? My, that's a rather fun outfit!

If I won the lottery? I'm sure I would wreck some havoc on New Orleans for the sake of it and take a canoe out on the Bayou. Terrify a few loitering teenagers. I'm not quite sure if I am being honest what I would do.

I am feeding Stanley plenty of pedophiles! It seems he has an insatiable appetite and he seems to crave beloved pets. KeeKee is far smarter than the pig to stay out of Stanley's way. I can arrange a chat between you and him if you so desire.

I am not a big fan of movies but sure, I'll give it a shot when I happen upon a chance. Hmm...none of it scares you? Interesting. I am personally not one to be scared of silly movies or books however I did find myself deeply invested in the fate of the characters. In the Shining book if I recall correctly, the father cared far more about his family in the book than in the movie where he was a raging horrible maniac. I could go on about it but I shall end it here.

Hmm...it wasn't a bad experience to be out of control of your own body? That is personally not something I would enjoy but to each their own, dear. I'm not one for Shirley Temples but I'm sure its tasty for you!

Yes, I would prefer to be called dapper. I've never been one to love cuss words but they surely have their place and time.

Why is it surprising? It's the only rightful thing to do. I know quite a quite a few people that would disgustingly take advantage of a situation like that, unfortunately. Common human decency is truly dead.

Yes, its always important to have a competent coworker. There's a surprising lack of that in the working world. He gave you candy? My, my. Yes, I do hope he doesn't quit either.

Hah! That's an absolutely delightful joke, dear!

Oh my, that is quite a lot of Halloween decorations! My mother would have a stroke if you saw it. Charlie I'm sure would be absolutely ecstatic! I wish you luck.

See you later, my dear, alligator!

PS: As much as I do enjoy our conversations, could you perhaps make your letters a bit shorter?

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

Str8aura,

I come to you in the hour of need!

Having recently reread your amazing ‘Death and Taxes’, I was again reminded of my inadequacy in this biz. I have no idea how you managed to craft such an immersive story and great characters in 50k words AND in less than a year, but you did. It would absolutely be a hit if published. I cannot believe I identified with a monster-town. My silly ass is in a constant state of schism between admiration and jealousy over every aspect of your writing, and I don’t appreciate this feeling at all! I know they say that we shouldn’t focus on comparing ourselves to others, but I disagree – I believe comparing your own stuff to better stuff is the only way to improve. And I’d love to improve. Could do without the crippling jealousy, though :P

While I still think my take on this world is worth seeing through to the end, I struggle with many elements. I’ve watched videos and read manuals about writing. Valuable material, but not quite enough. So here’s my question – would YOU mind giving me some tips? For starters maybe something about keeping yourself in line when scheduling, because that’s just an abysmal bloody disaster in my case. Also – structuring. You created a fantastic balance between dialogue, description, plot and character development, I feel my text often reads like an article (which makes sense ‘cause I worked with those). I’ve trimmed some fat already, but maybe I could keep going – especially with the bullshit magic-science stuff and overwriting the feels/thoughts. I liked writing it, but now I realize it can be exhausting to follow. Looong stretches when nothing really happens and people just feel sorry for themselves. But idk, that’s not always a big problem.

This brings me to the characters in general. I feel I did alright, but I have doubts. Relationships have never been my strong suit, which is… less than ideal for this hobby. In real life, I’m decidedly more of an observer than a participant, and this shows here and there. Perhaps it’s better that I didn’t use many perspectives because I’d struggle even more. In your story everyone knew about the curse, in mine only a few people do, and that happens over time. The ‘normal’ problems of the leads eventually converge with the paranormal one, so I thought it was best to not dedicate too much attention to the stuff that has little to do with either. But what do you think?

No matter what, I’m absolutely NOT giving up on the pretentious lingo, however :P We museum people are pretentious by trade! If you ever find some free time, could you perhaps check out a fragment of my fic and see what doesn’t work? It’s ‘Hateful’ on AO3. Don’t feel obligated to by any means, I know that just reading this sentence raised your blood pressure lol

And, last but not least, please tell me how to kill the envy demon. I HOPE it’s had its teeth in you at least once in the past, goddamnit XD Otherwise I’m a lost cause

Sorry for accosting you like this, but it’s been on my mind for too long. Release me from this prison!!!

Congrats again I hope you do end up publishing something one day

Hello, Plague. Waking up and finding this in my inbox told me that today might be alright. Thank you again for your excellent fanart.

Jealousy

The man who I can claim most truthfully is my most beloved friend is a writer like me. In fact, without their influence, I would not be a writer at all; They have encouraged me, proofread for me, criticized me, and guided me every step of the journey that has led me to who I am today. I would take a bullet for this man, as many times over as my body would allow.

He also holds popularity I have never achieved. He is the darling of the featured box, earns hundreds of likes and comments where I scrounge up tens, and has attracted the eyes and praise of people whom I am only a number to. When I look upon him, this man whom I love as if he were my own blood, I understand Salieri. I understand Brutus. I understand what it is like to love someone and yet feel a deep, shameful, green-eyed rage towards them. I firmly believe we do the same amount of work, try just as hard as each other, and yet he is beloved and I am not.

So it goes. Jealousy is the worst beast we as mortals can face, and we will be the flesh it feeds on if we allow it to. I am dreadfully sorry you feel this way about me, and honored at the same time, but I must remind you what on the internet it is easy to forget; I, as well as my beloved friend, am just a human. Nothing more, nothing less. It is fruitless to feel jealous, when that same energy could be devoted towards outmatching me. You think I'm good? Be better.

You cannot kill the envy demon. Don't try. You must learn to live with it, to accept it as you accept every other piece of yourself. And when you do that, you domesticate it.

Scheduling:

The tip I have learned, dedicated to heart, and use whenever I can is simple; Write up to a key stopping point, the point at which you feel will be make or break for the reader to decide whether or not they wish to stick with it. Publish that much, serialized, in small scheduled chunks.

You now have a fire lit under your ass. The only thing that outmatches my desire to procrastinate is my desire to please others, and thus I have no choice but to continue my schedule, with only a little leeway and wiggle room allotted by the aforementioned stored up slots so I do not blow my head off. I did not plan out Death and Taxes beforehand, save a vague idea of the premise; it was not even intended to have an overarching story, it was only meant to be an anthology. But by working steadily, making lots of mistakes, and deciding what felt right, I ended up after a year of work with the product you love.

Chapters, pages in a comic, it is all the same; If you want to work, find what is stronger than your procrastination drive, and turn it against yourself.

Structuring:

Every one of my stories begins life as a string of dialogue. No action tags, no [X] said, just dialogue like a script. Talking is, oftentimes, the core of any story. It is also what I, personally, am good at. I stimulate conversations with myself or my dog, try to respond as realistically as I can given what I know about the character, and then fill in the blanks with text afterwards. Dog optional.

This is not ideal for everyone, I understand. My greatest suggestion I can offer is to figure out what you are good at, and do that first. Even if your story looks unformatted, or unfinished, you must keep yourself working. Skip scenes if you wish. Write the parts you want to write, and then get the rest later. But at the end, and this is the most important part, it must not look like you did that. It must look like you are a genius who effortlessly spat out an entire sequence in one afternoon, flowing like a dream, never contradicting itself. A writer is a liar, first and foremost. This is why they are so often thought of as geniuses, when in reality they spent seven hours trying to figure out how to describe a plant.

Pretentious Lingo:

Verily, I agree.

Hateful has been in my Ao3 library for some time. I apologize for my slowness.

As a final note, I must remind you as an author that you must keep reading. Length, medium, and popularity of the work matter not. Read, read, read, and the more you examine the style of other authors, the more you will decide what you want your own to look like. I set out writing every story of mine with an idea of what story I want it to resemble; 'I want this to feel like Kraven's Last Hunt', 'I want this to feel like The Blue Fox', 'I want this to feel like The Odyssey'; whatever. As a storyteller, you must always honor other storytellers. Never forget that.

Also, get a proofreader. Hope this helped. Tell your friends to give me money.

[limerental]

Dijkstra/Isengrim, Triss/Philippa

Well oopsie whoopsie, I did basically immediately fall asleep after reblogging that ship game last night but lol

Dijkstra/Isengrim

What made you ship it?

I'm working on an entire essay at the moment of "why I ship it and you should too" but in brief, they're both ugly, snarky, intelligent, and devious outcasts who did objectionable things and in any other story would have probably ended up as villains and gotten their comeuppance. But they're not villains and also not heroes, and they ultimately end up discarded by the powers that be when their usefulness ends. If they'd met a year earlier, they would have dismissed or outright killed each other without a second glance. They're equals from opposite sides of a conflict that ultimately had no sides. And there's something about that understanding they have in their Lady of the Lake chapter that is just soooo deeply important to me.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I love that witty banter is a given, that a lot of things are said without being said, and that they're both fiercely loyal and stubborn characters who would easily turn that loyalty toward one another but also likely consistently irritate one another with how stubborn they can be. I love that they're equal partners. I love that Dijkstra's a big tall fat ugly guy and that Isengrim's also ugly and disfigured and it's the first thing anyone notices about either of them. I love the thought of these two old men, both of them capable of great violence and rage toward those who have wronged them and indifference to the suffering of those they feel deserve it, being domestic and almost cloyingly romantic with one another. Just. The gooiest, softest romantic domesticity two old men in love have ever known, and they also could wreck your shit in an instant if you wrong or threaten them.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I don't really like the direction CDPR/the games chose to go with Dijkstra's character and so usually chose to ignore it. His character design? Wonderful. Innovative. Excellent. Show-stopping. Exquisite. But his storylines and motivations... have very little to do with his book character and I don't really like them. Book Dijkstra isn't ambitious and especially post book canon after getting burned, I don't think he'd give a shit about politics or power.

Triss/Philippa

What made you ship it?

Triss' character arc is one of my favorite's in the whole book because it's so... she's terrified and she's convinced she's doing the right thing and she's insane and she's compassionate and she's emotional and she's traumatized and she's trying to cling to anything that makes any kind of sense in a world that doesn't make sense. And Philippa is so radically her opposite in every sense and also, I don't think she's every really wholly loved anyone but maybe for a little while wants to love Triss and maybe she does. I love the ship as an inevitable tragedy, like watching a car wreck that you can't look away from.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Honestly I just really love morally dubious lesbians doing questionable things. I love that Philippa brings out the worst in Triss that was there before her and that she is convinced doesn't exist, and I love that maybe Triss could bring out the good in Philippa even for a moment. Also, the imagery of a bird of prey and her gentle, rabbit-soft lover... Triss getting pulled in by her dangerous, seductive allure and Philippa getting pulled in by her supposed delicate fragility hiding claws... They're not some great love story, but they do have strong potential for the messiest codependent yucky absurdity with a lot of hard kink and rare soft moments.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Maybe not that unpopular of an opinion, but I think Philippa being a lesbian was not some progressive move by Sapko or even a very genuine character decision but really just a big joke (most of his characters are ultimately big jokes though, the whole story is a bit of a joke). I don't think Triss/Phil was intended to be canon but just accidentally looks that way if you squint. Death of the author though, that yucky lesbian is ours now.

[legionaberrations]

Hello! Same anon that asked about your Julie headcanons. Firstly I adore your take on her, it's so unique and well thought out, it's just so cool!

Got another question for you mun too. What are the main differences between your legion and canon legion? From the general stuff to the angsty stuff (I didn't ask for angsty headcanons before... So I'm changing that lol).

((The main Main difference is probably that my cast of them is pretty young. Dbd Legion's ages are incredibly inconsistent and in various forms of lore they're all 18, or they're all in their 20s, or they're all still in high school... So casting them as ranging from 16-19 instead of all being closely the same age/in the same grade is pretty unique from the other canons.

On an individual level, going in FJSJ order:

Frank - I don't think he's actually very different from canon, I just think I've thought through the... implications of his life a lot more than BHVR themselves have. Like when it comes to the foster/adoption system it can take quite a bit for a kid to be Permanently taken from their family with no visitation given - when that happens there's often a very good reason for it, like extreme neglect and abuse. The fact that he was removed from his parents at such a young age has some pretty dire implications on the level of abuse he was subjected to at a young age. Going from foster home to foster home itself can also be fairly traumatizing. I have a lot of thoughts about his fear that he's unlovable, that there's something so fundamentally wrong with him that everyone wants to leave him or force him to go eventually, and how that probably influences his interactions with his friends. Like an impulse that if he doesn't "drag them down" to his level and make them as "bad" as him that they'll eventually realize he's bad and leave him, too. It's kind of canon to the comics but I do think he sneaks out a lot and rarely sleeps at home just because his adoptive father is such a dick. If he hadn't gone to the Entity I think he could've been a librarian. :)

Julie - (Shorter since I already did a whole post on her). My version of her has a slightly more strained relationship with her parents than the one we see in the official comic, though we know little about her relationship with her parents in the "mainline" canon. We know Julie has a lot of friends and is probably the most "social" of the Legion - I think it's very interesting to think about how that conflicts with her very antisocial nature and how she probably parties to drown out the boredom/misery she feels in suburbia. I think that if Julie Hadn't gone to the Entity she probably would've excelled as a journalist or a horror writer.

Susie - The comics haven't quite touched on Susie's relationship with her parents very much yet but I do have the thought that she's got a Very bad relationship with her parents. There's the Christmas sweater skin that talks about them fighting a lot - I think her parents have a very volatile relationship themselves and I think that they take it out on Susie quite a bit. I think that Susie is probably on the lower end of the economic bracket along with Joey or at the very least that her parents are pretty financially controlling. My Susie of course also has a big crush on Laurie. I think the comic accidentally implies she has a crush on Julie too. Legion's going to become a mess of feelings... And is fat, which I think she would be if BHVR weren't cowards. My headcanon is that Susie and Jeff were kinda-sorta friends, which is a little bit canon to the comics, though they try to play up the crush angle. There are a couple skins that imply/talk about her being bullied and I think that's something she probably dealt with a fair amount growing up and is part of why she feels a like very strong urge to lash back at the world. I think if she hadn't gone to the Entity she would've been a comic artist or animator.

Joey - Joey is a really interesting character to me because I think he's probably the most "well adjusted" of the group. Without the influence of peer pressure he probably never would've fallen into any of this stuff but it's sad that he's treated as a criminal anyways because of racial biases. He has to deal with the isolation of working a lot and never getting the acknowledgement for it. I think there's a lot of dissatisfaction he feels with life in general and that's part of why he's so susceptible to like being able to exert any kind of will/power on the world by helping create Legion. He has a theoretically good relationship with his mom but also feels a lot of pressure not to let her down and feels like he can't share his feelings with her without disappointing her. I think it's very interesting that he's kind of the functional/practical brain of the group and thinks of how to keep them all safe - like in the comics where he suggests covering their faces to avoid being identified. And I think it's really notable that he's the only member of Legion who wears proper gloves and paints around his eyes. He's very conscious of the danger of being identified... The biggest difference in my Joey with other canons is probably that he isn't involved in sports/being a mascot at all, and also instead of the implicit crush on Susie I have him crushing on both Frank and Julie lol. If he didn't go to the Entity I think Joey would've been a fashion or costume designer. He has a lot of interesting skins related to making outfits or dressing up, so I think it's fun to explore that side of his interests and personality. I wonder if that's why the comic artist decided to make him a mascot...))

[thesamoanqueen]

I was really worried about what they were going to do with Jey after Summerslam if he lost. Like he's put his blood sweat and tears into the story for 3 years. He's the one who has carried it when Roman isn't there, which is more frequent since he went part-time. This is the biggest story that draws, so that's a lot of trust, especially when their negotiating TV deals and closing on their buy-out. But after Summerslam, I'm kind of naively optimistic? Like it's clear, Jey/Jonny is going to be the A story, especially with Roman taking time off. They are once again trusting them, and they've proven they can deliver. Also, after last night, I'm seeing hints of the adversity baby face beats but not shoehorned and dumb like Cody's but interwoven to the point you HURT for Jey. People are furious, Jimmy is going to get Dominik heat but unlike Dominick (and I love Dominik) Jimmy can handle a crowd and can be ruthless on the Mike, he's goingb to be so much fun. These guys are going to break our hearts. My point is, I thought about how Raw has tons of super over baby faces and Smackdown doesn't. They have faces but only a few guys over and none with the kind of writing Cody and Seth are getting. Most of the development was really going into heals, and LA Knight, I'm not sure where his story is going. So I wondered, are they really going to build Jey to be a top babyface? Is he getting a singles run?What do you think? You always have great opinions ❤️

Aw An thank you❤️ too kind, my mind is not so good but I appreciate your words~

Anyway, Raw and SD are two different brands, they have different creative groups and two different fan markets, that's why the Bloodline has always been on SD and in the last draft (even if they don't respect the rules of ten years ago) were made choices. SD has few babyfaces and surely the only big babyface at the moment is Jey in terms of storylines.

People say after Summerslam that a feud between Jimmy and Jey doesn't make sense, but it's really the only step they could take for him without giving him the title and treating him well. Im sure that the end of this new feud will bring them back together, so its a braket for the Usos, but a great opportunity to show that both can have a run as singles and successfully as that Fightful source said. They're both outstanding and will do their job wonderfully, so I'm definitely optimistic about what's going to happen for them.

I'm sorry it's obvious, because I would have really liked to see Jey win and because they are inseparable, but it's not a split for me, but a break. One that they want first and that also makes sense in the Bloodline story. It will give visibility to Jey who we discovered is an excellent babyface and a new version to Jimmy who has always been seen as the good funny guy of the group and now have to get involved with something that usually doesn't belong to him. It will fill the void left by Roman during his hiatus, give continuity and maybe fill a couple of plot holes. I don't really understand why people are angry and worried, for me it was a brilliant and natural evolution of events. It's new, has two great protagonists and continues what is the best this company has. A big fat yes for me.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

(request for meeting Evan at a wedding. I'm not sure if this will be super long or in parts yet, but I think it's a good time to incorporate car sex? Yea. So, here goes nothing. Hope you enjoy!) edit: decided to do parts.

Part 1: my big fat bad attitude

"Bartender, can I please get something fruity and I will slip you 5 bucks if you make it strong for me" I wink at him. He's kinda cute when he smiles.

"Sure thing, darling"

Oh, boy. This is going to be a long night.

I'm at my cousin Megan's Lake Tahoe wedding. The weather is perfect this time of year for having an outdoor wedding. This one happens to be absolutely amazing. Fairy lights adorn the white canvas walls of the tent. The dance floor is beautiful with lights and flowers. The food and the DJ is awesome. The ceremony was stunning next to the lake. My cousin is stunning too.

She was so excited for me to attend because, aside from her parents and brother, most of my family was not going to make the trip from the Midwest to California. I figured this was a good opportunity, not only for a well deserved vacation featuring a destination wedding, but also because I was seriously thinking about looking for work while I was here. I needed a fresh start.

My aunt and Uncle said they would hold onto the place they had rented for my cousin when she moved out here for a few more months if I wanted to explore my options in LA. They knew my circumstances and are super generous people. Megan, of course, has already vacated the rental and moved in with her now husband. I get a pang of panic that my cousin, who is 13 years younger than me, is married now and I have been gutted and tormented by my supposed soon to be husband.

He was supposed to be here with me. We were supposed to get married in the fall. But, two weeks ago, I forgot an important document at home and went back to get it. That's when I walked in on my fiance fucking some bimbo from behind on the rug by our living room fireplace. My thoughts went from shock to smirking about the rug burn she's more or less already feeling on that carpet by now. I know it all too well. Back to shock and then seething anger. They didn't realize I was there cause they were so loud and he was pulling her hair. She sounded like a valley girl when she moaned and I thought how annoying that must sound to him. I cleared my throat and they both yelped and jumped a literal foot off the ground. The clumsiness of it all had me hysterically laughing. I was afraid to stop because I might have ended up going to jail that day if I did. She was his secretary. I made some joke about it not being 1950 anymore and told him to get the actual fuck out of my house. Now, here I am at this beautiful wedding and feeling like absolute trash.

The bartender hands me a tequila sunrise. I take a sip and it makes me choke a little. Perfect. I hand him a 10 dollar bill and tell him I'm gonna trust he will keep his excellent skills up for the remainder of the evening. "Anything for you, beautiful." Yea, yea. Keep it in your pants.

I turn on my heels, feeling giddy about my soon to be drunken state when I nearly collide with a handsome stranger. It was like a slow motion scene in a movie as we both try to grab the drink and right it before it crashes to the ground and shatters. He succeeds, although half of my drink splashes out the sides. Mostly landing on the floor. Some landing on his white shirt that, I now notice, is hugging his broad shoulders and muscular chest. It's now stained pink. We are both holding onto the to glass. Tequila covering our hands. Our hands are touching and we both have a surprised look on our faces. After a beat we both realize what we must look like and start laughing.

"Here, you got it?" He asks, kindly.

"Yea, Thanks." I say letting out a tiny chuckle

He walks over to the bar and grabs a stack of napkins. He makes sure he wipes down my glass and our hands and then cleans up the floor as best as he can.

"Dammit, I'm really sorry. Let me know when you are ready for another one and I'd be happy to grab it for you"

"Oh my gosh, no worries" I wave my hand at him as if to say no big deal.

"At least it's an open bar, right?" He smiles and I notice his dimples for the first time.

All I can do is nod my head. Fuck, he's gorgeous. Ok, thoughts go away. You are in no position to date right now. Politely excuse yourself. My brain is sensible. My vagina is not. I can feel that familiar pressure when you get turned on. Sigh. Oh well.

"Well I'm sorry your shirt is stained. You aren't in the wedding party, are you?" I ask.

"Oh, no. Just a friend of the groom. I'm not worried about it. I can always put my jacket back on. I'm just glad it didn't get on your pretty dress." He realizes he blurted that out and shakes his head. Blushing. Fucking adorable. I notice the style of his curly hair. It reminds me of something I can vaguely remember.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I suddenly blurt out the question.

He gets kinda anxious. "Possibly. I'm an actor. My name is Evan."

"Wait, are you the actor that volunteered at the homeless shelter downtown and gave the kids acting lessons? My cousin volunteered there and that's how she met her husband."

He nods his head "Uh, yea. Yep. That was me" he says shyly.

"Megan told me how everyone was swooning over how sweet you were with the kids. That you were really patient and they looked forward to your class weekly. That's really amazing. I couldn't stop thinking about that after she told me."

He blushes and turns his head.

"Yea, I had to go away for work and then I just didn't have time anymore. I do miss it. It was fulfilling."

I smile and nod my head in approval "Very cool. Well, Evan, I'm Andrea and it's super nice to have splashed my drink on you. Maybe I will see you around."

"Ha! Nice to meet you too. Have a good night!"

I take my annihilated drink to my seat and I sit down and take a breath. Wow, that was...interesting.

______

"Hey Cousin!! Andrea!!" I hear my name over the loud music and look up. Megan is standing on the dance floor motioning me to come out. I start to get up when she holds her bouquet out and I realize a second before the DJ speaks that there is about to be a bouquet toss. Bonus. I sit back down and shake my hands in a "no thanks" gesture. That prompts my 5'2" cousin, dressed in her ball gown and stiletto heels, literally climb over a chair, march up to me, grab me by the hand and pull me to a standing position. "Get your motherfucking ass out there." Shit, she's a strong little thing. Yes ma'am.

Once I'm out on the floor and Megan's back is turned, I step out of the group and as far off to the side as I can. This, however,doesn't work. Did I mention she works with kids? Yea, she must have eyes in the back of her head. Because fuck if that bouquet doesn't shoot right at my face so hard I would have had to duck if I didn't have cat-like reflexes. Goddammit.

I catch it and hold it up with the most fake smile I could muster on my face as everyone cheers. My cousin walks by me and I swear I hear her mutter "fucking right" under her breath. As I'm walking back to my seat I catch a glimpse of the handsome, not so stranger, stranger standing between two tables smirking at me. I quickly look away and walk straight to the bar. Cute bartender winks at me and I ask if I can just get a straight shot of tequila. He hesitates, but only for a minute when he sees my face. He starts to pour it.

Just then they call the guys up for the garter toss. I'm thinking to myself that it's such an old fashioned thing to have at your wedding and why is she doing this to me, when the groom tosses it and I see a big veiny hand shoot up into the air and snatch it. What. The. Fuck. Evan turns in a circle until he finds me standing up at the bar and then holds his arm up, clutching the garter. I swear under my breath and smile at him. The DJ then asks if the bouquet and garter winners could kindly come to the center of the dance floor. Shit, fuck, I mutter. Then I grab my tequila, cheers it in his direction, and shoot it down.

(I will get to the next part sometime this afternoon!)

oh heyyy there 👀

[x-tracuddlycactus]

S.quilliam X S.quidward feedism drabble

Don't like? DON'T READ!

TW: gay octopi ex-lovers

Ah... B.ikini B.ottom. The place where all sorts of fascinating sea creatures and even non sea creatures live. A truly fantastical wonderland of fish and wetness beyond what the mind can comprehend. Let us check up on one of our favorites, shall we?

There he is, our favorite cephalopod. There's a name for such specimin like this, but we'll just call him "S.quidward." S.quidward seems to be upset today. Let's take a closer look.

Inside his stone home, S.quidward is sitting on his bed with a depressed frown. It seems he is having some nostalgic memories about a special someone from years ago, and he can't seem to get over him. How could he? After all, the picture of the octopus in his hand (tentacle? Arm?) was his first real lover and quite possibly his last.

In the vast mind of that bald headed, big nosed fellow, he was contemplating on calling his ex one last time. S.quidward needed to hear his voice. He craved it like how he craved for S.pongebob to have exploded after eating that bomb. But who was he kidding? Why would he of all sea creatures decide to pick up the phone for him?

Just as S.quidward was about to pussy out, a ring was heard from the phone... All three of his hearts leaped in anticipation.

Could it be??

S.quidward instantly threw out all of his dignity and leaped for the phone, picking it up in an instant. His breath caught in his throat as soon as he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Were you thinking about me just now, S.quiddy?~" A short nasally laugh, belonging only to him, rang out like music to S.quidward's nonexistent ears. There was that petname again. Only he was allowed to call him such a devious little petname...

"S-S.quilliam... How did you know?" Was it possible that S.quilliam was thinking of him too? At this very moment?? No. That could have been too big of a coincidence- "I can sense it, S.quiddy. That emotional bond we had was too strong to fade away."

A long pause..............................

"... The truth is, S.quiddy... I miss what we had."

This can not be happening right now. S.quilliam never admitted his true feelings. Was he finally being open? Vulnerable for once? S.quidward paused and swallowed hard, sweat rolling down his shiny head. "S.quilliam... I... I'm not sure we should-.... I mean... I can't go through this again. I don't even know why I thought we could."

Another long pause................... and a sigh from the other end.

"You're really going to make me say this, aren't you? I miss the things we used to do. Remember? Surely you do?"

What they used to do... How could S.quidward forget? It was possibly the best time of his life. His hand (again... tentacle? Arm?) subconsciously slithered up his brown shirt and squished the folds of fat with nostalgia. Fond memories of going on multiple dinner dates in one night, the tender touch of suction cups on his filled out belly... He could practically feel his touch once more.

"S.quiddy? I know you're still there. I can hear you breathing."

Another gulp, this time, it was one of excitement. "Y-yes, I'm still here."

More silence.......................... (third time is the charm)

"Go to the kitchen, S.quiddy." A command. Something S.quidward was more than willing to do. Immediately, he stood from his bed and walked downstairs, his feet (... tentacles? Legs? ARMS???) making their signature farting sounds as he stepped to the fridge. "Okay... I'm there."

He could almost feel the seductive grin forming on his ex-lover's blue face. "Tell me, S.quiddy... what do you have in your ice box? Don't skip over anything."

With a quick and eager glance inside, he began to list off everything. "There's my imported cheese, an assortment of yams, summer sausage, milk, and some kelp salad." His stomach was already growling up a storm.

"Excellent. Your taste in food never disappoints. Go ahead... Let me hear you chew up those yams first. I'm not hanging up until I know my S.quiddy is well fed~"

This was certainly going to be a long night...