#another 50 on another app

[astertimberwolf]

Elaborating on the original quote from my first reblog, this is what it's referring to:

Nothing wrong with complimenting me on my looks, but- woman... I wrote extensively about my hobbies, my personality and what I'd like in a partner- and you just hit on my body as an opener? Yeah. Nah. 💀😅

This makes me go as stiff as a board and reply as awkwardly as someone who either doesn't know how to- or doesn't want to talk to people.

(Not a catfish because her profile has the verified checkmark. Also blurred out our names and pics for privacy)

“You need someone that loves your soul more than your body”

— Unknown

[shamera]

this expresses about 1.5435432% of how much i've been enjoying this series lately, and touches even less on its amazingness, but what can you do.

if you have the time and energy to spare, please go read My S-Class Hunters / The S-Classes That I Raised!!!

[dseval]

I've been seeing that challenge people (cough looking at my mutuals) do where you have a playlist and people say a number and request a fic. So I'm doing that, too, for like, warm ups. But for Drawings.

So, uh, please?

Pick a number from 1-50. (For personal reasons, banned numbers: 11, 28, 34, 39, 40, 45, 46, 47)

Only One to Three characters.

UTMV Related.

Put it in the ask box.

I will draw them based on the song you 'picked'. To the best of my capabilities. Either based on the Album cover or the Song's message.

[shippingmyworld]

Hello! Yet another headcanon ask, cause I've been loving the headcanons around Danny and Sam and what Danny consciously or unconsciously seeks out of a relationship and I crave m o r e.

What are your headcanons around what Manny wants or needs out a relationship? Also also, what would you say drew Manny to Danny the most and vise versa?

The tl;dr is that Manny fell first but Danny fell harder lol

I think that what Manny looks for in a relationship is someone that can keep up with him, someone that won't judge him for the decisions he makes, and someone that will stick by his side no matter what. That's why he 'dated' Frida for a whole year when they were high schoolers because their friendship technically fit the bill; it was just missing the romantic attraction part.

Growing up, Manny got a lot of love from the people around him. His mother, father, and grandpapi all showered him in it. Even when emotions run high and they fought with each other, things were usually resolved quickly and ended up with both sides explaining themselves. This also makes me believe that Manny developed a strong belief that it's healthy to get into arguments with the people you love because it shows you care enough to be open about your feelings with them.

However, on the flip side of that, I also headcanon that Manny will realize near the end of high school that his plan for the future doesn't necessarily match the vision his family has for him. It starts innocent enough, with Rodolfo making his usual comment about Manny being a full-time superhero in the future and Grandpapi auguring that Manny should be a full-time supervillain instead. This is nothing new, they have this argument all the time. But then something new gets added to the mix; Rodolfo throws a new hypothetical at Grandpapi, saying that once Manny gets married and has children, being a supervillain would just put his hypothetical family in danger. Grandpapi shoots back and says that villainy would pay much better, after all, "How do you think I was able to afford to build this entire house on top of an apartment complex???"

Manny just continues eating breakfast as usual, but this time the fight nags at the back of his mind. They both expect him to chose one side or the other eventually, but in all honesty, he doesn't want to. He doesn't feel torn up about it, like the original El Tigre did. In fact, he's extremely happy where he is, being able to indulge in whichever side of the hero/villain coin when he wants. But as time goes on and the argument between his dad and grandpapi repeats, he starts to feel more and more pressure to live up to their expectations. (Plus at this point in time I believe he's nearly graduated high school and already dated and broken up with Zoe/Black Cuervo and come to the realization that he's bisexual).

Any time that Manny tries to bring up the 'I don't want to chose.' argument with his dad and grandpapi, they would both wave off Manny's choice, saying that one day he'll have to pick like they did and being outright dismissive (not intentionally though, because the concept of it just still so foreign to them they can't wrap their heads around being both a hero and a villain) . This starts to reasonably frustrate Manny, since no matter how many times he explains himself, they won't see his side of the argument. It also starts to make Manny's anxiety simmer (which he inherited from his mother), because they're his family. They've always been by his side and even when they didn't agree, it never took long for them to talk things out. Why was it taking so long this time for them to understand him?

It would be around this time, that the OG Nicktoons Unite Gang would drop by Miracle City for the first time. Cross-Dimensional Villain of the week would be wreaking havoc in the city, so Manny and the Unite gang team up to take care of them. During the team up, I believe that Manny would instantly be drawn to Danny. Not in a romantic sense, but kinda in the "Holy shit he's so fucking cool, I have to be his friend at ALL COSTS." sense.

It's mostly in part because Danny reminds Manny so much of himself, yet seems so confident. They don't get much time to talk, but Manny's able to pick up that Danny's in a very similar situation; stuck between being a part of two conflicting worlds and constantly struggling to find balance between them. They actually click pretty much instantly with their banter during the brief team-up. So much so that it feels like they've known each other for years (Danny's sassy wit matches Manny's bravado and confidence in a playful way). That's why when the villain is subdued and everyone leaves, Manny doesn't feel the same sort of satisfaction he does when he takes down El Oso or The Mustache Mafia. In fact, he just let four super cool guys walk through a portal without any sort of hope or grantee he'd ever see them again.

There aren't a whole lot of superhero kids in Miracle City. The few that are around, Manny wouldn't really count as anything more than an acquaintance because there's always a disconnect between them (look at the Rising Son, who instantly turns on Manny the second that it's revealed Manny does a little bit of villainy). He's got a better rapport with the villains his age. Heck he even secretly hangs out with Django and a few others on occasion as civilians. However the villains give him even more flack than his grandpapi whenever he he starts leaning towards heroism, so he usually leaves their hangouts not feeling socially satisfied. Thankfully tho there seems to be a semi-regular occurrence of dimensional hopping supervillains - about once every two months - so Manny gets to see the Unite gang a handful of more times (the second time he sees them he instantly latches onto Timmy's arm and begs to get his contact information; he's much more suave about it by the time he gets around to asking everyone else, he just panicked upon noticing the pink hat and assumed they'd all leave as soon as the villain was caught.)

Near graduation when his anxiety is at it's peak, Manny will get a message from Jimmy, asking if Manny would be interested in joining the team more permanently. he instantly jumps at the opportunity (and then from there it's basically the plot of Desde el Principio lol).

Like I mentioned, I imagine that Manny didn't see Danny as anything more than a friend at first. Even though he personally acknowledged that Danny was handsome, Manny ignored that because he REALLY wanted to be friends with Danny. He constantly was engaging Danny in conversation (both irl and texting, once Manny officially joined the team). But since Manny doesn't really read social cues like everyone else, he didn't pick up that Danny was uncomfortable about discussing personal ghost stuff, so of course Manny continued to ask questions about it. It was all innocent of course (How does your green lazer thing work? How long can you stay invisible? Have you met any cool dead people?), and while the rest of the gang kinda tensed up when Manny started asking these questions (Danny included) it was surprisingly therapeutic for Danny to talk about this stuff.

Manny accepted all of Danny's answers at face value. If Danny lied about something and said, "I don't know." Manny would offer up his own suggestion (usually wrong) about how Danny's powers might work. Seeing how nonchalant Manny was about this stuff (Danny originally though that Manny might be weirded or freaked out) actually would make Danny lower his guard and start to be truthful about his halfa life. It's part of the reason why he fell for Manny in the first place, just because it became so easy to be around him. If he needed someone to talk to, something to be a nonsense-filter for the thoughts in his head, he knew Manny would never judge him for anything he might say. If he was having a really bad day and said he just wanted to sit around silently, Manny would hold him quietly until he felt better (or fell asleep).

[darcyolsson]

is neils jortventure just going to start circulating again every single time a new aftg book comes out that post is almost a decade old now 😭😭😭😭 who is playing archaeologist on my blog

[nyxiathewander]

What is it like living in Oklahoma?

Well, got woken up by a tornado warning.

Only for my cable and phone to stop working just as I asked one simple question:

"Did they confirm a tornado or not?"

[alias-mike]

haha banking app youre so funny. what do you mean i spent THAT much money this month. seriously i didnt even make that much money where are you getting these numbers from

[barbietoiles]

Since on topic of fandom /neg...... the fandom ruins a lot of my experience with qsmp. Its fucking horrifying every time a tts reads out something that should stay within the walls of fandom. And even the walls of fandom are godawful sometimes.

I dont even visit the tags anymore because i dont want to see more bad takes. I never dwell on things so its taken quite long to understand why im not having fun there anymore, but eventually i see how i just dont want to go through all that to find the posts i like.

Purgatory was hell only if i went on tumblr about it. Phil, etoiles and sometimes even tubbo cubitos get misjudged too much for my liking. Or maybe im simply too peculiar about it. In the end it is a me thing and i wish i was good enough at words to do my own analyses but alas. I have two (2) good posts - and im glad theyre enjoyed - but i draw better than speak and ive been creatively art blocked for so long. Guess frustrated is what i am. Cheers

And also PLEASE DO NOT SEND STREAMERS TTS OR EVEN ASK IN CHAT ABOUT THEIR THOUGHTS ON ALL OF YOUR HEADCANNONS JESUS FUCK!!!!!!!! Cheers.

[peanutpinet]

Can u create a sylus x reader where she is doing errands while sylus is in a meeting, and she finds sexy undergarments and thinks about buying them. Without her knowing, mephesto is watching her and sylus is distracted?

Also I re downloaded this app just bec of your posts!!! Love it

Confidently Shy (Sylus x Fem Reader)

Request: Can u create a sylus x reader where she is doing errands while sylus is in a meeting, and she finds sexy undergarments and thinks about buying them. Without her knowing, mephesto is watching her and sylus is distracted?

A/N: hi reader, thank you for your request. I think this will actually be the first-ever actual suggestive content that I’ve written. I apologise in advanced for not writing smut as I’m still uncomfortable writing but maybe one day

Warnings: illegal business, slight stalking (Sylus using mephisto and checking the bills that went through his card), makeout, suggestive content

Disclaimer: This work is completely fiction. I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

It was a quiet evening as Sylus was in the midst of his meeting, a meeting that bored him to the point he was getting sick of the facade that his business partner was making and decided to go over his tabs on his investments, his other business streams, and even bills that were charged under his card; specifically the ones that were made by you.

As the meeting continued on, Sylus sipped on his wine, scrolling through the tabs of what you were purchasing with his cards. Some groceries that cost only 100 dollars, several books that cost about 30 dollars and about 50 dollars for a set of undergarments?

“Well, this is something different” Sylus chuckled as he saw the amount that recently was charged to his card and what it was

Sylus decided to go a little further and looked at his other tab, which was linked to Mephisto. He knew that it was wrong to stalk you especially ever since you two were together, Sylus had ever paid attention to the recordings Mephisto had of you but he still had Mephisto keep an eye on you just in case.

As Sylus was playing the recording, he saw you walk into the undergarment store, eyeing on a few pieces until your gaze seemingly lingered on a black lace pair. It wasn’t a black show through kind of lace but it still covered what he felt you didn’t have to cover. It was a black full-cup bralette with a matching pair of bikini-style underwear.

Just imagining you in the undergarments made his breath hitched and felt a strain in his pants. It doesn’t help that his business partner keeps on rambling things that he knew were all fake and he already had Luke and Kieran prepared with the necessary proofs.

But he didn’t have to stay longer because he heard the little ring when someone enters the penthouse and he knew that it was you. The only other person to have access to the apartment were Luke and Kieran; meaning that it was you that just came into the door.

Without thinking, Sylus stood up and held his gun towards his business partner who was immediately confused but held their arms up nevertheless. “Mr, Mr Sylus, is so-something wrong?” his business partner stuttered

“I’m going to give you some time to get out of my personal space before I tip the press regarding your corruption issue and how you’ve been leading on to your clients on high-graded protocores when you so clearly don’t have any real protocores”

Without saying anything, his business partner knows that they shouldn’t cross the lines. That the tone Sylus was using was already a warning of ‘get out or I’ll show you another way out’.

His business partner scrambles out of the other door that he brought him in rather than the regular door that is connected to the rest of his penthouse because that is reserved specifically for you (ehem, Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto).

Sylus texted Luke and Kieran to handle his business partner and try to not return until later in the night which they got the hint and left the penthouse for you and him alone.

Sylus put his phone away and went out of his office to see you were cooking, the groceries you bought were already put away, and some of the chores were being done like laundry. But he was most curious of the undergarments that you bought.

Sneaking up slowly, Sylus wrapped his large arms around your waist while he lightly kissed your near down to your neck; making you giggle at Sylus’ sudden clingy attitude.

“Someone’s getting clingy” you giggled, making Sylus smile by your shoulder where he rested his chin. “Well, you left too early in the morning sweetie. I was still asleep yet my personal bed warmer was gone. Quite unfair when I always cuddle you to sleep, sweetie”

Hearing Sylus’ clingy self, you chuckled and turned off the stove before turning around. “I take it that your meeting didn’t go as planned?” you lightly cup his cheek, your thumb gently caressing the undereye circles underneath while he hummed against your hand and kissed it

“You can say that” Sylus grumbled, inhaling your scent that he has grown accustomed to

“Alright then, good thing I made one of your favourites. Creamy potato soup with steak and…” you didn’t even get to finish listing of the wine you bought for Sylus when he suddenly pressed his lips onto your, connecting you both.

Sylus was being particularly eager but he made sure to put one of his hand behind your head as he directed you away from the stove and onto the kitchen counter. Sylus gently lifted you onto the counter but never once did his lips part from you. In fact, Sylus tried to deepen the kiss even further which made you gasped; allowing Sylus’ tongue slip pass through and explore your tongue while his hand snaked underneath your shirt and lightly rubbed your exposed skin while your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist which made Sylus pull you even closer, his hand now snaked up to where your bra was; his fingers lightly toying with your bra.

You on the other hand was feeling a bit overwhelmed with Sylus’ sudden physical behaviour because normally he was able to control himself unless it was in the safe space of your share bedroom. Luckily enough, when you tapped Sylus’ shoulder to catch your breath, Sylus reluctantly pulled away and wiped your now smudged lipstick while you were trying to catch your breath, steadying your hands on his shoulders.

“Forgive me, sweetie. I went too far, didn’t I?” Sylus apologised, this time gently kissing your forehead, his lips lingering longer until your breathing was finally stable

“It’s just…” you started talking and Sylus put a distance between you two, ensuring your comfort first, trying his best to not give in to temptation

“Go on sweetie. Tell me if I was wrong” Sylus stated but you shook your head, lightly tugging on his hand so we would come back closer which he did and you hugged him, laying your head on his chest

“It’s just, it’s not like you to suddenly kiss me. Is something wrong that made you quite eager? Did you have a nightmare or something?” you asked, worried about his well-being

But instead, Sylus shook his head, chuckling at your worried tone. He gently cup your cheek and kissed the top of your head. “Nothing sweetie. Can’t I be clingy to the love of my life?”

Hearing Sylus say that made you blush which made Sylus chuckle even more, leaning into your ear and whispered, “Well I supposed it’s because a certain mechanical bird told me that you were shopping today and I was hoping to see what you bought in the last store you went to considering it’s not the regular amount you would spend on things you wear”

Immediately you know which store he was talking about and what you bought. Was he checking his tabs? Or was Mephisto snitching on you? Either way, you couldn’t help but blush and shyly buried your face in his chest.

“I’m teasing sweetie. If you don’t want to show me it’s completely fine. I respect your wishes. A man can only envision what the love of his life wears but I am a man who respects your comfort above all so I’m alright sweetie. Don’t worry about me” Sylus hugged your body against his, his touch were gentle

“I was just a bit distracted when I saw the store you went to and the piece you bought. That’s all. I promise” Sylus admitted, hoping you don’t find him creepy or weird

“I know you were just keeping tabs for your accountant and I know Mephisto spies on me to ensure my safety. I appreciate you taking care of me Sy” you replied, feeling grateful that even though you were sometimes nervous going out alone when who knows what trouble might be lurking around, you knew that Sylus would always ensure your safety no matter how busy he was

“I umm actually…I bought it for our trip. When we’re going to spend time together in the late-night breeze by the beach” you admitted, shyly looking away again

Certainly, this information caught Sylus off guard. Had you wanted to surprise him later on during the trip which he almost forgot he planned? But Sylus quickly regained his composure and gave you a soft smile, gently holding your cheeks to face him.

“Aren’t you the most adorable and thoughtful person I’ve ever come across in my life? Tell me kitten, were you planning on surprising me with this new piece?” Sylus teasingly asked while you playfully smacked his chest, making him laugh

“I’m kidding. I promise I’ll wait whenever you’re ready to show it to me” Sylus softly reassured you

As you lifted your head off his chest, you shyly looked away for a moment before replying him. “Well, if you’re that eager, I supposed you can have a look…”

Hearing your response, Sylus’ ears perked up but he calmed himself first and shook his head. “It’s okay sweetie. You bought it for a surprise then I’ll wait for the surprise. I’m not going to let you ruin my surprise until we’re at the resort for our trip”

“Then, I can show you something else that I have that’s similar…” you looked away as you were replying to him, making Sylus chuckle again

“Only if you want to, sweetie. But first, we should eat the food you prepare before it gets cold then if you really want to show me, I wouldn’t mind seeing it and having my dessert” Sylus teased, helping you down from the kitchen counter while you smack him again making him laugh but both of you knew that Sylus is a man of his word.

No matter how much teasing and anticipation he has, he would always prioritise your comfort and consent first. Period.

A/N: I tried to make it a bit spicy but of course, fluffy at the same time. I'll say this once, Sylus is a man of consent and every woman deserves a man like him. period 💅

[cheezritsu]

Itoshi Sae has far more feline traits than those narrow turquoise eyes of his. At the top of your notes app titled “I don’t need a cat, my boyfriend already is one,” is the fact that Sae will never, ever be clingy, will never ask for your touch, and is coy about romance as a whole—but he just has to be near you.

Manshine City is playing Ubers. Ubers cannot resist having a yellow card every time they step on the pitch, and Manshine City pisses Sae off more than even he knows. You’ll press him about that later, because he’s watching the match in your shared bedroom and not the living room television which is not only bigger, but louder like he likes. Why is he fixing your temperpedic to be a damn near 90 degree angle when there’s a perfectly good couch in another room?

“Who’s winning?” You call from the bathroom. You’ve chosen to grab a bar stool from the kitchen to make yourself comfortable as you part your hair into four sections. It’s a hard ritual, but it pays dividends; you noticed that you were shedding a lot less hair when you sat down and pre-detangled before the shower. And you were a little optimistic about your last style and ended up stretching it out a few days longer than you should have. The end result wouldn’t be good to your heart.

You’re half way through finger detangling your section when you realize Sae hasn’t answered you. You lean back, the open door to your bedroom allowing you to catch a glimpse of him. There’s something off about his expression—Sae’s normally indifferent looking, sure, but there is a harder frown etched into his face. And he’s not even looking at the game. He’s glaring at…the door frame?

“Babe,” you say, and it breaks his trance. He looks up at you, but you’ve once again disappeared from his line of sight. That lean back was killing your spine.

“Huh?”

“I asked who was winning.” You carefully two-strand twist the now slippery section together, then use an alligator clip to keep it off your back. It’s kind of crazy how long your hair is now compared to the beginning of the year. You take down your next section, looking up from your lap and-!

“Holy shit!”

Sae gives you an unimpressed look in the mirror. You look at his reflection instead of him when you demand “When did you get in here?”

“While you were daydreaming.”

The tv is off. Or it’s paused. The vacuum of silence is a little uncomfortable. You were doing your hair in an old tshirt; a reprint of Sae’s U20 match jersey. It would make plenty money on the internet, and here you were getting hair products all over it. Sae looks at the front of your shirt with a wrinkled nose. Other reasons your boyfriend is a cat: he needs a fucking collar, and he pulls faces instead of vocalizing.

“What are you doing?”

“My hair.”

You can see his roaming gaze trying to piece together the exact routine you have, but he’s struggling. Before another quip can leave his mouth you elaborate. “Pre-detagnling. That way when I wash my hair it has less breakage.” You squeeze your detangler into your hands and slather it into the wetted section of hair you were working on. “I wanna keep what little hair I have.”

You get a real reaction this time—a snort of disbelief. “You have more hair on your head than Aiku has on his entire body.”

You blink. “That’s not really a metric I’m privy too.”

“He’s like a gorilla. It’s gross.”

You hum, but you love Sae’s endless opinions. You can tell he still has some rattling around in his brain that he’s having trouble spitting out. Perhaps he’s finally using a filter around you, or he’s really trying to find just the right delivery to piss you off. It’s 50/50.

He finally settles on, “You hair has gotten really long,” as he’s transfixed by the quick motion of your digits twisting the hair into a long rope. When it drops against the side of your head and he sees where it reaches, he shakes his head. “Like, really long.”

“Thanks,” you smile, and warmth spreads in Sae’s chest. “Weren’t you watching the match?”

“I paused it.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer. “I thought long hair bothered you?”

“It does,” you answer slowly, really trying to keep up with this conversation. Sae pings questions at you like the midfielder he is, but this is a little too quick. “But I think when I was growing my hair out the first time I never shaped it, or did styles with it. There was this girl at a restaurant I went to, like, years ago when I was at the beach with my parents who had long natural hair. She had it pulled back in a satin scarf and had like two little front pieces sticking out.” You create the style by gesturing your hands over your head. Sae’s gaze melts, the usual hard line of his mouth settling into something content.

“She was so pretty.” You have a distant look on your face, and Sae doesn’t doubt you have that crystal clear memory in your head. “I wanted to be as pretty as her. But I didn’t really know what to do with my hair, and it has really hot all the time, so I cut it. I think about it all the time though.”

Sae acknowledges your story with a nod. He traces shape of your curls with his finger, careful not to pull too hard. A soft tug elongated the spiral, and then it snapped back.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Sae suddenly spits, making eye contact with you in the mirror. “I liked it when it was short, and it’s pretty now that it’s longer. I don’t know if I ever told you.”

He hasn’t. Not so bluntly, at least. Sae never needs to occupy his hands, so he doesn’t touch your hair at all, ever, but now he coils the strands around his finger like his own personal fidget. Something stupid balloons in you lungs and press hard against your ribcage. Pride, maybe? Love, probably. You twist your neck and the piece of hair slips from his grasp.

“‘Preciate it,” you reply, adopting his casual air to force down your excitement. Sae’s face stays the same though, and he even goes so far as to press a little kiss to your exposed shoulder blade. He must feel the heat of your skin, because a smirk curls across his face. Oh, you could kill him.

“Alright, alright,” you shoo him. “I gotta get to work. This is just the pre-wash, so I’m going to take a minute in here.”

“I could shower,” he says absently, and before you could even protest, Sae is opening the shower door, rearranging products around the wall to make sure your shampoo, conditioner and wide tooth comb are front and center. “It’ll be warm though, and not scalding hot like you like it.”

“Then don’t shower with me.”

The pipes turn on, Sae’s funger’s dipping under the water the check the temperature. “It’s bad for your skin anyways.”

You don’t even mention it. You probably will halfway through when he’s “unknowingly” doing your hair for you, but it could wait.

[hoshigray]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 [𝐍𝐎𝐓]!! | a JJK series

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!” “BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU!” It’s no secret to anyone on this Earth that you and Gojo cannot stand each other. Despite that, the world seems amused to put these two star-crossed lovers haters in the same space. Or worse, have them dwell deeper into their feelings for one another…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - fluff + angst + misunderstandings - first kiss - virginity loss - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - secret relationships; implied friends-with-benefits - sex in shared rooms; college dorms + hotel suite - college parties - use of party games (seven minutes in heaven) - confessions - mention of drug/alcohol abuse - humor bc Gojo and college, lol - Gojo is a cocky, tactless sweetheart, nothing new - cameos of other characters + explicit content will be listed in their respective fics (within the contents).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: when I say that I had this series planned out, I mean like mid-October last year planned out, lmaoo!! I'm honestly so psyched to do this series, as it's one of my favorite tropes + relatively short as I'll be busy irl, but we'll do what we can!! i was lowkey feeling this concept when i was re-watching Ranma 1/2 and figured it would work great with Gojo. So, here's to hoping i can properly execute my thoughts with this series, hehehe~

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ❤︎ gif header made by me + fic dividers used are provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒓...

All the material below contains explicit 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (Feb 1st)

The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 (Feb 7th)

Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 (Feb 14th)

Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖!

Would you like to be tagged when these pieces get released? Lmk in the replies, please, and thank you!

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫!!! Have made a list of the first 50 ppl who asked, but don't worry!! Check back for the stories when they're posted on their respective dates!!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[hermajestyimher]

P*rn, dating apps/hook up culture, and 50/50 normalization are the three main culprits as to why the men of this generation seem so different than men from previous ones, and why so many beautiful and accomplished women are unable to secure a relationship without settling. Men always had their issues collectively, but it was never to the degree that we see today, and it’s largely due to the normalization from an early age to those three things.

The brains of men these days have been wired in a completely overly s3xualized manner. They don’t view women as people but as objects of strict desire and nothing else. Consumption of p*rn has not only given them unrealistic expectations of intimacy, it has influenced their s3xual orientations (see DL epidemic), and their social behaviour. Nowadays many don’t find regular girls attractive, which is why they choose to engage in “taboo” activities to feel some arousal. This leads them to becoming socially inept and to falling easy prey to manosphere content that only reinforces the objectification and dehumanization of women.

Dating apps then come in as an easy way for these men get the illusion of options, because while they might be generally not attractive, in the apps they get instant access to women they otherwise would never have in real life. And because many women have become desperate, by entertaining these men and giving them easy access to their bodies, the men no longer feel like they have to improve and work on themselves to attract a quality partner. It also gives them the idea that women are disposable because at any point they can ghost them for no reason and then swipe right to get another one. It makes them devalue access to us.

This easy access is then transferred to their expectations of relationships. They abuse the concept of equality to manipulate women into financially abusive arrangements where she’s expected to provide fiscally while also performing her feminine duties and taking care of a grown, able-bodied man. Naturally this continues to reinforce men’s lack of respect and gratitude for women in their lives, while increasing their own sense of self-importance, narcissism, ineptitude, and ungratefulness.

Obviously women are not responsible for the actions of men, but we do have the power to not reinforce and condone their sick ways. By deleting dating apps, standing our ground when we oppose 50/50 dating, and choosing to remain abstinent until marriage, we are taking the power dynamics back to our advantage. No, you are not unreasonable for not wanting to be with a man who consumes p*rn, or who wants to be sexually fluid with other men, or who views red pill content that dehumanizes you, or seems unwilling to provide things for you and cherish you in his life. It’s on you to stand firm in your decision to only entertain the gentlemen whose mindsets haven’t been completely fried by modern societal trends.

The “male loneliness epidemic” that we hear so much about is entirely self inflicted (not that anyone cares when it’s women who are lonely), and it’s a direct response to women saying no more to men who exhibit the behaviours outlined above. Hold the line, because they either leave their toxic ways and get better, or they will doom themselves to a life of solitude. Either way, that is their responsibility to fix, not yours.

[gothcsz]

Safety Net: Part I | ~13.8k wc | Co-Written with @ovaryacted | Series Masterlist

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Motivated by boredom, Marcus goes on a sugar dating app and lands himself a date with you, the only person that captured his attention.

CHAPTER TAGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Modern AU. Sugar daddy Marcus Acacius/Sugar baby reader. Age gap [Marcus is 50/reader is 25+]. SMUT. Plot with porn. Kissing/Makeout session. Dry humping. Premature ejaculation. Oral (f! receiving). Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. MARCUS THE MUNCH! Sexual tension. Flirting & banter. First date chronicles. Lots of plot & world building beforehand. Takes place in Chicago. Marcus uses a sugar dating app. Reader is explicitly described as a curvy woman of color: darker skin tone, curly hair texture, etc. Reader has feminine characteristics - wears dresses, heels, jewelry, & makeup. Reader is afab and able bodied. Marcus is recently divorced. Marcus comes from old money and is a businessman. Chivalry isn't dead.

A/N: This has been in the works for far too long but finally, we managed to lock in and cook up some straight heat! This is what happens when you put two yapping hoes on a doc, so we hope everyone who feens for Marcus Acacius as much as we do enjoys the fruits of our labor lol. Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Support your BIPOC writers 🖤

Another lone dinner, nothing but the gritty sound of the song echoing from his record player to accompany him.

Tonight was meant to be a small victory. Marcus had enrolled in a cooking class to keep busy after the divorce, and this meal was supposed to put those new skills to use. But as he chopped, cooked, ate and cleaned, the expected satisfaction never came. Instead, a quiet boredom crept in—maybe even isolation.

It was like his body was moving on autopilot, simply going through the motions.

He brings the rim of his glass up to his lips, eyes falling down to the city below. From his penthouse, the skyline sometimes blurs beneath a soft haze of clouds, making the world below look like a dream. The wealth, the view, the opulence—it’s everything people imagine happiness to be. And yet… loneliness seeps into his bones, slowly debilitating his already precarious joy.

He assumed that divorcing from his now ex-wife would help pull him out of this stupor. They were both in agreeance that their marriage had been nothing but one out of convenience—the best thing for the both of them at that time. No romance, no passion, just a practical arrangement that worked. At least, until it didn’t.

Marcus hadn’t expected her to fight for the marriage, but he also hadn’t expected her to fixate on the prenup. One night, in the midst of her moving out, he’d overheard her gossiping on the phone with one of her friends. It would’ve gotten a lot nastier if I hadn’t gotten what I was owed.

The words hit harder than he expected. On some level, he had loved her. Not in the way a husband should love a wife, but in a way that still meant something to him. There had been care, respect, even a kind of tenderness—out of duty, maybe, but real nonetheless. He even enjoyed being a stepfather to her teenage son.

No resentment was held, not when they were about to part ways.

She was entitled to a payout, and he made sure she got it, wiring the full amount before the lawyers could sink their teeth into the process. No use in dragging things out or turning something empty into something bitter. 

So they ended it quietly and swiftly. One last dinner as husband and wife, a toast to a chapter closing, and then the signing of papers that made it official.

It has been months since then, and Marcus is right where he’s always been. The same life, the same routine—just without the pretense of a marriage. He’s outgrown the bachelor lifestyle and has no interest in jumping back to it. He’s in fifties with a divorce under his belt, family business in his care, and more money than he knows what to do with. 

Most men in his position would see this as a rebirth, an excuse to run wild. He’s seen it plenty—divorcees burning through their wealth to impress women half their age, indulging in recklessness until, eventually, they wonder how the fuck they lost it all.

The thought makes him scoff slightly, shaking his head as he continues to lose himself in his own mind, still gazing over the city.

Ever since word got out that he was single again, the men in his social circle have been relentless. They want him to “get back out there,” find some young thing to do more than stroke his ego and remind him he’s still got it. Their concern isn’t for his happiness—it’s for their own validation. They want him to fall in line, to indulge like they do, to prove they’re all still kings of their own little worlds.

The idea of dating brings a faint migraine thumping at his temples. No way in hell. He doesn’t have it in him to go through first date purgatory of asking the same grueling questions, only to have nothing in common with the person at the end of the night. And his work acquaintances aren’t suggesting anything so conventional, anyway. 

He’s lost count of how many times they’ve invited him to strip clubs or proposed outrageous tropical getaways filled with booze and paid company. They aren’t subtle about their misogyny, either. They brag about the escorts they’ve hired, the women they’ve bought for the night, offering him contact information like they’re handing out business cards. In case you get tired of using your fist all the time, they joke.

The detachment of sex is what he finds peculiar. It’s not about pleasure, it’s about seeking validation from other men while putting another notch at their bedpost. It’s why he rarely accepts their invitations. Avoiding their outings, distancing himself as much as he can… but only to a certain degree. Unfortunately, these men are his business partners, and in his world, he wasn’t exactly given the luxury of full separation.

The act of paying for sex isn’t the problem. He doesn’t care how they get their satisfaction, really, it only grates on him when their vulgarity spills into business meetings, when corporate lunches turn into competitions over who had the best night with the most expensive woman.

Take today, for example, when a longtime partner had sidled up to him as he was headed home for the day, practically shoving the phone into Marcus’s hands.

“Met this chick on that app I was telling you about and scored myself a date tonight. She’s hot.”

Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the way this grown man was waving the information around as if it were something to boast about. He barely glanced at the screen—a woman in a tight dress posing in front of a bar. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Congratulations?

Before he had to give an answer, the elevator doors opened. A perfect escape. He handed the phone back and muttered a quick, “Have a good weekend,” stepping out and letting the doors shut on yet another conversation he wanted no part of.

Now he’s here, two and a half glasses of whiskey deep with a curiosity that feeds off his boredom. He retreats from his reprieve at the window, walking into the living room and settling on the couch. Flipping mindlessly through TV channels, nothing seems to hold his attention.

His fingers drum against the side of the glass cup before intrigue gives way, slipping a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulls out his phone, unlocking it with a swipe of his thumb, his whiskey resting loosely in his other hand. 

With furrowed brows, Marcus navigates through his phone at an infuriatingly slow pace. He squints slightly, trying to read the small text, and his large thumbs fumble across the keyboard, leaving a string of typos that have him muttering curses under his breath. He misspells the damn thing twice until finally, the name of the ridiculous app pops up in the search results.

The little loading circle spins, downloading the application to his phone. When the prompt to open it appears, he hovers, as if contemplating if this is even worth it. A few seconds pass before the liquor in his system decides for him, opening the app with a tap.

The first thing it asks is if he’s the benefactor or the beneficiary. He huffs, taking a sip of his drink, choosing his role as the sugar daddy before ultimately filling in the blanks needed for an account set up. It all feels ridiculous, but what does he have to lose?

Then he reaches the About Me section and stops. The blinking cursor taunts him, he can’t help but scowl at it, whiskey swirling in his glass as he thinks. What do you say about yourself when you don’t even know what you want?

Marcus A. 50+. Chicago. Business Owner. Not sure what to say here. First time trying something like this. I prefer a strong drink over small talk, but I appreciate good conversation with someone who has something to say.

Not his best work, but he doesn’t dwell on it. He skips through the rest of the trivial questions—religion, favorite movies, hobbies. The longer the list grows, the more tedious it feels.

Then comes the photo prompt. Somehow, this feels like the hardest part.

Marcus scrolls through his camera roll and realizes most of his photos aren’t of him at all—just landscapes from his travels, on-site projects, plenty from his trips back home to Italy, but few that actually put him in the frame.

He settles on a lone one from an important dinner a few years back. It’s stiff, formal, but at least it’s something. 

When he’s done, he studies the profile. Sparse. Impersonal. He’s not exactly proud of it, but he’s not here to impress anyone. He’s here to look—nothing more.

The next hurdle? Preferences. 

He frowns slightly, finishing off his drink before setting the glass on the coffee table. He sinks further into the couch, glaring at the screen.

He sets the minimum to twenty-five. Mature enough to have lived a little, young enough that he isn’t limiting himself too much. Local, of course. No sense in complicating things.

With that, he’s finally done.

Marcus isn’t sure what he expected, but the more he scrolls, the less interested he becomes.

The app is filled with beautiful women—plenty of soft smiles, sultry gazes, perfectly angled selfies. Glossy, curated versions of themselves, posed just right, filters smoothing away any perceived imperfection. He sees them in designer bikinis lounging on yachts, captions that all seem to blur together. No hookups. Fluent in sarcasm. Just here for the pay pigs.

That last one gets a quiet chuckle out of him.

Nevertheless, it’s all the same. It bores the hell out of him. He swipes left again and again and again…

He’s about to call the whole thing immature bullshit when he comes across your profile.

No forced captions, no excessive filters, no painfully obvious attempts to curate some idealized version of yourself. You have a natural confidence, an ease in the way you present yourself. The way you talk about your interests—travel, food, new experiences—it doesn’t feel like a list of things meant to impress. 

And then there are your pictures.

Your hair is thick, wild with curls, framing your face in a way that makes you look like you belong in the kind of old-world paintings he admires when he’s abroad. Your brown skin, kissed with warmth, glows under the soft light of a restaurant where you’re pictured, hands wrapped around a glass of wine, a knowing, almost amused look in your eyes. There’s another shot of you at a market, caught mid-laugh as you react to something just out of frame. 

Marcus exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Damn.

He doesn’t message you. Not yet. 

He told himself that this app was just for curiosity, just to look and pass the time. He hadn’t expected to actually come across someone that made him consider.

The whole damn thing feels ridiculous. He’s a grown man, successful, established. And here he is, sitting alone in his penthouse, scrolling through an app designed to find a sugar baby of all things. What the hell is he even doing?

Without thinking about it, he taps the Super Like and immediately closes out the application.

You probably have a dozen other prospects already lining up in your messages, throwing out their best lines, trying to capture your attention. He’s just another name in the mix, another notification you might just skim over before moving on. 

So be it, he got it out of his system��whatever that was. Some passing curiosity, a distraction fueled by whiskey and boredom. By tomorrow, he’ll be preoccupied with work, meetings, actual obligations, and the whole thing will be nothing more than a brief lapse of judgment. Maybe he should save himself the trouble and just delete the damn app now, wipe his profile along with it before he even has the chance to regret it.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he sighs, pushing himself up from the couch, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders before making his way toward the bedroom. His night routine is as methodical as everything else.

Yet, as he settles into bed, he finds himself thinking about you and how for a moment, he had felt something he hadn’t in a long time—intrigue. 

The next day flies by quickly for Marcus, swamped with the countless meetings lined up for him at the architectural firm. Overseeing a new development in the city took whatever time he might’ve thought he had, his poor assistants making multiple trips to the coffee shops nearby as the day progressed. He was already greatly familiar with the boost of caffeine running through his veins, growing more on edge with every file that lands on his desk.

By the time he got home, he was damn near slumping against his front door, tossing his keys in the trinket tray by the foyer, tugging off his blazer and throwing it over the edge of the couch while dragging his tired feet to the kitchen. Yanking on his tie and popping it off with one swift pull, he removes his cufflinks and folds the sleeves of his button down up to his forearms, plucking a few of the buttons from his collar to finally allow himself to breathe.

Reaching over to one of the cabinets, he grabs himself a glass, dropping in some ice cubes and taking his favorite brand of whiskey, filling it halfway. The headache building at his temples ebbs away as he gulps down the amber liquid, palms resting on the granite countertop under him. He merely stares at the stone, eyes blank and now deep in thought. A frustrated exhale leaves his aquiline nose, running a hand through his graying curls as the stress of the day radiates through every cell in his body.

He knows he should probably just order something for dinner tonight over cooking, his mind too fried to put together an ingredient list, and the thought of washing dishes was enough to force the decision for him.

Marcus refills his glass and takes his phone to the living room, turning on the TV and leaving the news to play for some background noise as he sorts through his options of what he might be able to stomach.

What was he even in the mood for? Italian? Korean? Chinese? Some lo-mein sounds good, maybe with an egg-roll or two? Yeah, that sounds about fine.

He calls his order in, finding some spare cash and picks it up from the lobby. He didn’t bother to remove his leather shoes when he took the elevator 50 floors down for the handoff, coming back up the same way until he was munching into an egg-roll covered in duck sauce on the couch.

Food long gone and the glass coffee table now cleared of his takeout, the gold watch on Marcus’ wrist reads 10:30 pm when he finds himself weary of the late night news turned mediocre comedy segment. Grabbing his phone and pinning a few emails for him to read over in the morning, he swipes to his apps menu, spotting the new dating application he had completely forgotten about since setting up his profile the night before.

Fuck it, what the hell.

With no thought, Marcus opens the app for a second time, watching the icon load on the screen before he lands on the main page. Swiping to the chats section, his screen explodes with the 99+ Super Likes he had gotten over the past 24 hours. Yet, he could care less of the other profiles he has to sort through. The only match that loads on his screen is from your account, an unread message he had gotten no notification of despite it sitting idly in his inbox for a day. Nervously, he taps at the message box, your icon popping up on the screen along with what you had sent last night.

“So you’re just going to super like my account and not say anything?”

The corner of his lip twitches when he reads that over, his eyes scanning over the sentence more than once with a raised eyebrow. His brain short-circuits as he tries to find a suitable response that doesn’t make a fool of himself. He’s positive he already looks like an idiot by having an account in the first place, but he’s gotten this far, might as well stick around.

After a few minutes of typing and deleting a singular sentence, he triple checks his spelling until he’s satisfied with what he came up with before hitting send.

Marcus A.: “Must’ve missed the chat option when I hit your profile. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I’m new to this whole thing.”

His screen updates with the dot under your profile turning green, a sign that you were active again. You definitely saw his message, and the three little dots he notices at the bottom make his pulse spike, anxiously waiting for what else you had to say to him.

“That’s okay. Figured you had other things going on. You look like a guy that has a lot on their plate, Mr. Businessman.”

Now he was smirking.

Marcus A.: “You have no idea.” He typed the reply and sent it, and you responded just as quickly. 

“Try me.”

Should he talk about what he has to deal with on a daily basis with his work? Bore you with how he oversees the blueprints of different construction plans throughout the city and has extensive meetings that last all day? So much for a lasting first impression.

Marcus A.: “I wouldn’t want to bother you with work stuff. It’s not all that interesting.”

“I don’t mind really. I’m a little curious to know what takes up all of your time. Must be something serious if you’re all stressed out.”

No harm in being honest right?

Marcus A.: “Well, usually I have a lot of meetings and paperwork to handle while conducting new building developments in the city. But today was particularly hectic, I was swamped all day, probably drank way more coffee today than I had all year.”

Was that good enough? Not too much, not too little. Didn’t come off as petulant or like he wanted pity. This isn’t too bad, at least Marcus thinks so considering you were working on your reply.

“Sounds like a lot of intense work, lots of brain power. At least you have a team to help you out, takes a bit of the strain off your back. Hope you’re relaxing a bit now.”

Marcus A.: “Yeah, got home late but had some dinner. Just watching the news before I repeat the cycle tomorrow. How was your day?”

Bingo. Perfect bait and switch.

“Boring, honestly. Work was alright for the most part, finished a bit early. Ate a few hours ago, and was reading something before bed when I saw your message.”

Oh? Another avid reader?

Marcus A.: “What do you like to read?”

“A mix of things. Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, History, Romance. It depends on my mood really, but right now it’s Circe by Madeline Miller.”

Marcus A.: “I read that a while back, it’s a pretty good book. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“It definitely has my interest. I hit the halfway mark, so maybe I'll keep you updated once I finish it. :)”

Somehow, he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Marcus A.: “I wouldn’t mind listening to your thoughts about it.”

The three little dots appear for a second before vanishing. Marcus stares at the screen for a beat longer, hoping it wasn’t just a fluke. Maybe he scared you off? Said the wrong thing, or something finally gave away just how out of touch he was to all of this. At this rate, he might as well get 50 & Divorced tattooed on his forehead in bright red ink.

There was no point in stressing out about this anymore, it’s late anyway, close to midnight and past his conscious bedtime. Switching the TV and lights off in the living room, he quickly showers and rinses the day off. Changing into some fleece pants and a baggy gray shirt, he brushes his teeth and spits out his mouthwash, flicking off the light as he steps into his bedroom.

As he slips into his too-big king sized bed, he untucks the cream sheets and rests his head on one of the many pillows, glaring up at the ceiling with a huff. Turning over to his side, he catches the lights of the downtown area reflecting by the window, trying his best not to think about how cold and empty the other side of his bed remained. With a sigh, he eases into slumber, hoping that whatever tomorrow brings will be significantly better than today.

The next day in his week was thankfully less hectic, but instead of document packets, his phone had been going off all day speaking to clients, other business partners, and suppliers. And that was only counting Chicago. He got other additional calls from properties in New York, Los Angeles, and now some new construction he’s attempting to get signed off in Miami. He was so preoccupied with his business phone that his personal device was left untouched for the majority of the day.

It was 8:00 pm when Marcus walks through the front doors of his penthouse, repeating the same mundane pattern of tending to his needs and finding something to keep himself occupied until he fell asleep. In the back of his head, he remembers the brief conversation he had with you last night, curiosity getting the best of him as he wonders if you left him something to read over this morning. 

Tensely, he opens up the dating app, heading straight to his inbox to click on your unread message from 18 hours ago.

“Maybe I’ll send you a full book review. Put it in an episode of a podcast. I think it would do numbers.”

The circle on your icon is green now, and he rapidly types something so he doesn’t lose this momentum.

Marcus A.: “Forgive me for the terrible response time, I had another busy day in the office, dealing with non stop phone calls this time.”

The three little dots turn up again, and Marcus sighs in relief.

“No worries. You have things to handle, just part of being a working adult.”

If he wants to take his shot, he knows his best chance is to do it now.

Marcus A: “Actually, I’d like to get your number, if that’s alright. Me and this app don’t mix well. I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea and make you think you were being ignored.”

You begin typing before you disappear, the green circle now turning gray. He scared you off, maybe even gave you the ick when that was the last thing he wanted. Marcus was just doomed from the start, and getting on this app was a mistake. What would you even really want to do with an old man like him? It’s pitiful really.

Anxiously, he shuts his phone off and storms off into his bedroom, throwing some water on his face and getting into bed once more. He probably should’ve just went to sleep and left you alone, but his hands itch to see if you answered him. Twisting to get his phone from his bedside table and reopening the app, the empty space in his chest flutters when he sees you had left him a very clear yes with your entire phone number, right there for him to take it.

Copying and pasting your number into his phone, he sent you a quick text letting you know it was him, and you reassured him this was no problem, that you hated the app with a burning passion.

“I’m guessing it’s close to your bedtime now?”

Marcus A: “Unfortunately, I’m an old man remember? But, my phone will be on me tomorrow, so I’ll be around if you want to chat some more.”

“Sure thing, I’ll be around too. Don’t want to keep you up so I’ll let you go. Goodnight Marcus.”

He likes the way you say his name, type it out like it’s yours to say. With one last “goodnight”, his phone is off and his face is digging into the pillow underneath. For once, he is looking forward to tomorrow, and secretly hopes that you’d still be interested in talking some more. Maybe, he might just end up lucky.

Marcus quickly realizes he enjoys talking with you; at least when you both had the time to converse with each other, it was better than scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Texting is convenient for the most part when he can, sending little questions about you here and there, and you feed him breadcrumbs, still holding some control over how you want him to perceive you. He doesn’t mind, he’s mostly on your time, and if you want to play the cat and mouse game, he’ll play.

It was actually you that asked to call him the first time, a laconic talk just to hear his voice, to get a feel of him. Marcus didn’t know what to think of how you reacted to the way he spoke, but he knows hearing your voice might’ve been the catalyst to his growing interest in you. The conversation was short-lived, but it was good to hear you on the other end.

He has enough confidence to call you again later on in the week after work, a more extensive recap of both of your days. In the midst of laughing at a stupid joke he’s made, he’s thinking of the best way to formally ask you out. He’d been mulling over it for the past few days as you both tiptoed on getting to know one another, and he knows if he wants to take his shot, it has to be now.

“Out of curiosity, are you free Friday night?” He inquires, holding his phone close to his ear, anticipating every word you say.

“I might be, unless I just happened to forget my plans. Why?”

Shooter’s shot. 

“I wanted to take you out to dinner. There’s this steakhouse downtown by Kinzie Street, really nice food, intimate setting, expensive wine or cocktails if that’s your thing. Think it would be a good time.”

“You had me at cocktails.” You both chuckled at that notion. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Does 7 work for you?”

“Make it 7:30. A girl needs time to get ready, Marcus. First impressions matter y’know?” It was his turn to laugh despite his hands sweating.

“Then I’ll come by at 7:30 and pick you up. Unless you want to go on your own, I can arrange a ride for you.”

You hummed on the other end of the line, contemplating your choices. Probably assessing what was the smartest way of getting out of the situation if things were to go horribly wrong.

“A ride to the place might be better. You don’t need to see me full of anxiety so early in the night.”

“Well, I want to see you either way. I’ll have my driver pick you up, alright? How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. It’s a date then.” There was no question or doubt from you, and he’s glad you were the one that determined what the occasion was.

“It’s a date. I’ll see you Friday night.”

The call ends, and Marcus missed how intense his heart had been beating in his ribcage the entire time. Setting a reminder to call the restaurant tomorrow to place the reservation, he spots the time on his phone screen blinking 11:45 pm on a Wednesday. Two more days until he gets to meet you face to face, and the thought alone brings an eerie sense of restlessness to his stomach.

He’s made it this far, there’s no way he could fuck this up, right?

Friday night rolls around, and the anxiety that’s been bubbling in Marcus’ gut since he asked you out to dinner rears its ugly head. He spent a significantly longer time getting ready, making sure to fit a haircut in during his lunch break and left some room for a beard trim after his extensive shower. Hyper focused on making the most ideal first impression, he dabbles some scented aftershave on his neck and mixes it in with a few spritz of his signature cologne, double checking to ensure it isn’t too overwhelming.

Sorting through the multitude of suits hanging in his closet, Marcus decides that sticking to what he knows would be the best thing for him. He pulls out a classic black suit set and matching dress shoes, foregoing a tie and leaving the first button undone, the skin of his neck slightly visible from the opening. Clicking his golden cufflinks into their designated slots, he finishes his look for the night with his golden watch on his left wrist and slipping on the emerald signet ring on his right pinkie. Before stepping out the door, he takes the bouquet of long stemmed roses he picked out for you, giving his styled curly hair a look over and walking out the front door.

Regardless of how put together he appears, he is anything but composed. Finding himself way out of his comfort zone, his lack of experience in the dating department catches up with him on his drive downtown. His phone rings with a message from you letting him know you’ve been picked up and will be meeting him soon. It was 7:15 pm when you sent that text, and the lump in his throat worsens his breathing the closer 7:30 pm comes.

He’s been mentally preparing for your arrival for the past ten minutes, repeatedly staring down at his watch or his phone to see if you’ve said anything else to him since your last message. Waiting out front, roses in hand, his mind resets to his default settings of methodical overthinking once it hits 7:35 pm.

Did you stand him up? No, maybe something happened on the commute. Must be sudden traffic, it is a Friday night after all. Or you finally came to your senses and your cold feet convinced you to turn his car around and head in the opposite direction.

By 7:40 pm, the familiar view of one of his Escalades rolling into the driveway quiets his mind, brown eyes focusing solely on the figure that steps out from the vehicle.

He is immediately struck.

The dress you’ve chosen is sinful in its simplicity—long-sleeved, form-fitting black fabric hugging every curve, sculpting you like it was made for your body alone. The light jacket you wear does little to hide your figure underneath it; the dress flows over your hips and clings to your waist, cuts off right above your knee leaving your calves bare for him to admire, not to mention the neckline teases just low enough to show the swells of your breasts.

Your curls are pulled back in a half-up style that showcases your beautiful features accentuated by your makeup, leaving the delicate slope of your neck bare—an invitation, a temptation. The golden accents—your earrings, your rings, and the necklace that rests against your collarbone—catch in the evening light, making your warm brown skin glow like you’re drenched in sunlight.

He swallows hard, his grip tightening around the bouquet in his hand as he watches you step forward, poised and self-assured, utterly unaware of the effect you have on him.

He’s staring. He knows he is, yet he can’t help it.

Because right now, with the city lights flickering behind you and that unreadable expression on your face as you scan the area for him, you look like something ethereal. Like a star that shot down from the sky and landed right in front of him, impossibly real, impossibly his for the night.

He stands frozen in awe of you until your glossy lips move, talking to him in the flesh.

“Marcus, right?” you ask, holding on to your purse with one hand. “I’m so sorry for being late, the traffic was more active than usual. I hope I didn’t ruin anything?”

He finally finds his voice in the next couple of blinks.

“No, it’s alright. It’s a Friday night, I forget everyone else has plans set.” That gets you to laugh, and he exhales at the break in tension. “You look beautiful.” It’s sincere as he says it, and from the way you smile at his words, he thinks he’s doing something right.

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself.” You were a witty one, at least from the tone of your voice and demeanor, he can tell this wasn’t your first rodeo. “You didn’t have to get me flowers.”

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I came empty handed. A little birdie told me that first impressions matter, remember?” The corner of your mouth curls up at the way he echoes your words from two nights ago, a light chuckle escaping you. He extends his arm to hand you the bouquet, observing your reaction as he did so.

“They’re lovely, thank you,” your voice softens as you speak to him, a faint warmth settling on your cheeks under your makeup.

“Of course. Ready to go inside?” He suggests, and with a nod you take a step forward to the restaurant’s entrance.

As the hostess ushers you through the restaurant, Marcus keeps the steady weight of his palm on your lower back, just the right amount of pressure to not seem too forceful. You are brought to a more quiet section of the place, a few other dining patrons nearby but limited in number. The setting is intended to be intimate with the dim warm-toned lighting, a mixture of stone and archived pictures of an industrialized Chicago decorating the walls around you.

The hostess steps away once you reach your table, and Marcus swiftly helps you remove your thin jacket, placing it on the edge of your chair and pulling it out for you to take a seat, pushing you in afterward. Now situated in your designated place, the older man steps around you, watching him as he undoes the front button of his suit jacket before sitting down, looking in your direction and offering a gentle smile. Mimicking his expression, you drop the flowers at the center of the table, feeling the delicate tablecloth in front of you.

“Have you been here before?” He queries once you are both settled, a waiter coming by to fill your glasses with water.

“No, I’ve been trying to score a reservation here for months but I heard it’s been booked out way in advance. Not entirely surprised you found a way to grab a table so quickly, but color me shocked.”

“I’m a man of many talents. It’s a good thing you found me when you did.” The same waiter from before returns to pass the menu, prepared to give the tailored list of the chef’s specials for the night. “Feel free to indulge. Get whatever you like.”

As tempting as the invitation is, you are more than conscious of what you order off the menu. Playing it safe with a classic salad, a hearty steak, and two glasses of wine that leave you satisfied in terms of appetite. Marcus surprisingly does a good job of keeping you engaged throughout the night with simple conversation, easing into the comfortably of letting his curiosity speak for itself with the questions he asks. Though, he quickly comes to realize you’re charismatic with your responses, almost trained to know what to expect, how to answer and the tone you should be using.

It’s by the time the entree hits your table and you finish your first glass of wine that you loosen up, flipping his questions back to him, finding out more about his career, who he is, his likes and dislikes. Your grin widens more with every sip of your drink, pacing yourself to be sensible in your consumption while you eat.

Now almost finished with your second glass of expensive red, you swirl the last drops that pool at the bottom of the glass. You glance at him from across the table, eyeing him closely with a hint of mischief. He mirrors your expression, his cheek dimpling as he looks at you from the other end.

“You’re an awfully observant man, Marcus.” You remark, a slight edge to your voice, glossy lips staining the rim of your glass as you finish off your drink.

“When something is deserving of my attention, I have a habit of not cheapening out.” He playfully shrugs, his glass running empty a while ago, declining a refill as he’s taking it easy tonight. “Are you in the mood for dessert?”

Whether he meant the next course or something else, that was for him to know and for you to find out. Though, as enticing the prospect is to take it there, you don’t want to misread the situation beyond what it is.

“I actually don’t think I have room for anything else, the steak did a number on me.” An upbeat giggle pours out of you, and he laughs along with you.

“Then unless you want another glass of wine, I can ask for the check. Or…” his voice drifts off, the suspense grabbing your attention.

“Or?” That’s when he sees it, a spark of intrigue that fills him with a boldness he’s been harboring since sitting down at this table.

“Or you can join me for a drink, back at my place, if you’d like of course. If not, I can drop you off at home before heading back to mine.” Marcus is asking you to go back home with him, at least that’s what he thinks. Yet, it almost seems like it’s more than a suggestion, but a subdued command. Not that you’re complaining, you were hoping he’d ask at some point.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind another drink.”

He tries to hide his surprise at your answer, but after seeing the faint gleam in your eye, his cheek dimples once more.

With a quick gesture of his hand, Marcus whips out his black card and covers the tab, his palm taking its place on our tailbone as you both walk out of the restaurant together. His tinted Escalade rolls onto the street, and he steps to the side to let you in first, closing the door behind him and setting his address as the next destination. Throughout the ride, there is a comfortable distance between you, stuck on opposite ends in the backseat, throwing each other side glances when looking away from the window, a smile here and there. Still, he keeps his hands to himself, thick fingers thrumming on his lap and you hold your bag in yours, the anticipation of seeing where the older man lived incrementing inside you.

Twenty minutes later and a brief dinner recap, he extends his hand to help you out of the car, faintly squeezing your fingers as he does. He remains steadfast in keeping his touch on your lower back as he guides you through the lobby hall, the doorman greeting you both whilst passing him.

Entering the elevator, he taps part of his key on the scanner and presses the PH button at the very top of the selection, what you assume to be the penthouse. He gives you a knowing look, a gleam in his eyes as you’re sent up higher in this modernized building.

Crossing through the hallway that awaits you once the elevator doors open, you are brought to a pair of double doors. Allowing Marcus to formally unlock the door, you step into his space for the first time, and you can’t help the gasp that slips out of you.

Guided through the foyer of his apartment, you find high rise ceilings and earthy tones surrounding you, hints of creams and metallic accents left everywhere to find. The kitchen is fully decked out with modern stainless steel appliances and light wooden cabinets, a marble island taking the empty space in the middle. The open concept layout allows you to see the living room, sunken into the floor at a lower level, spotting a plush dark brown L shaped couch with smaller cream cushions behind a deep wooden coffee table, paired with a twin set of auburn armchairs and an overarching lamp between them. A fireplace is built into the accent wall, a plasma screen TV seamlessly hanging in contrast to the wooden panels that cover that portion of the room.

You can tell there is probably more for you to discover, another hallway that would allow you passage to an office or his bedroom, but that will be left for another day. What really catches your eye is the wall of books to the farthest side of the room, close to the frosted windows and balcony that grant a perfect view of the Chicago Loop area at night. The shelving carries a catered collection of works that were found over the years, and your curiosity piques to see what titles he might have in there.

The space is gorgeous, surprisingly warm and inviting, simultaneously masculine and calming. A harmonization of colors and textiles all in one space. You envy him just a tad for having such a nice apartment, though you might consider this one to be the best interior you’ve seen so far.

“What do you think? Hopefully it’s not too much,” you hear Marcus utter from behind you, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it off to the side. He offers to take off your overcoat, allowing his hands to lightly caress over your shoulders as he tugs the layer off, hanging it next to his. He also grasps the bouquet you’re holding, setting it down on the table closest to the door to grab later on your way out.

“I think you’re a man of fine taste for both exteriors and interiors.” You continue to marvel at your current backdrop. “Did you design all of this too?”

“Partially. Worked with an interior designer to figure out the dimensions of things, what exactly I needed to achieve my vision. But for the most part, the colors, textures and where everything goes was all me. The sunken living room was definitely my idea, did not sit well with the building managers but they came around.”

“I’m amazed you managed to get away with that.”

“You pick up a few things here and there the more you learn about the industry.” He looks at your side profile for a second before he speaks again. “Do you still want that drink?”

“That depends. What do you have?” You turn on your heel to face him, a coy smile on your pretty face.

“Anything really. Wine, whiskey, I can mix a drink for you if you’d prefer that.” For some reason, the potential of seeing Marcus make a drink tugs at your chest. Taking a second to think of a solid option, you settle on a reasonable cocktail.

“You know how to make a whiskey sour?” You watch the way his face quirks up at your choice of drink.

“Sure do. Make yourself at home.”

Marcus wanders off to the kitchen where he has what looks to be a whole bar built into a portion of the sectioned off room. You walk around the space he’s tailored to be his, running your fingertips over the edge of the couch and admiring the paintings hanging on the wall by the bookshelves. Scanning over the varying book titles, you note the multiple accounting and real estate books, some shelves primarily only having that with the rest filled with classics you recall him mentioning to you in passing.

The sound of ice shaking forces your attention back to Marcus whose focus was primarily in making your drink. From the corner of your eye, you see he has his sleeves rolled up his forearm, his bicep flexing as he holds the shaker in his broad hand, moving it with efficiency, a curl falling over his forehead from the effort. You look away when he pops the top off of the shaker, hoping he didn’t see you ogling him longer than you should have.

Playing clueless, your eyes land on a certain part of his book collection, titles relating to history and the world catching your eye, global wars and conquests amongst other things. You were too busy scanning the spines of the different books to notice Marcus observing you as he walked in your direction with a glass in each of his hands. Turning once you feel his presence by your side, you whisper a thank you and take your drink, tentatively sipping through the small straw he offered you, to taste the perfect mix of lime and aged rye.

“How is it? I eased up on the whiskey, figured you wouldn’t want something too strong.”

“You should’ve done bartending instead of real estate. Bet you would be a hit with the ladies, make a hell of a lot of tips.” Marcus chuckles, a pleasant sound that emits through him.

“Guess the mixing classes are paying off.”

A coltish smirk lands on your face in amusement, tilting your head to the bookshelf to grab his attention. “Wouldn’t take you as a history buff.”

“What can I say? I like learning about the world, the past shaping the present and influencing the future. Plus, it keeps me well rounded as one would say, pairs well with traveling.” You hum with a nod, pointing to a specific title you notice.

“SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard. I was obsessed with Ancient Rome when I was a kid, well that and mythology. Sort of ironic considering you’re from there, you’d fit in.”

“It’s a special interest of mine, but I’m curious about the history of the general area, besides what’s been passed down by family members.” He states casually, letting you wander around a bit more before heading to the couch in his living room, his hand instantly holding yours as you step down into the sunken floor along the way.

With every sip of your cocktail, you find yourself more entranced by Marcus, your eyes drawn to the muscles in his arm contracting when he takes a gulp of his whiskey. Time flies by as you converse more with him, the ice melting in your glass as you sit your empty cup on the coffee table. Your heels are now somewhere scattered on the floor, legs folded over one another as you lean into the couch on your side, facing your date. He stays seated on the corner of the couch, body angled towards the fireplace and his legs spread with his hands on his leg as he listens to you talk.

“You never mentioned it, you know, why you’re on the app to begin with. You don’t seem like the kind of man to bother with this whole sort of thing.”

“And why do you think that?” He twists his head to look at you, curious in your reasoning.

“You’re too smart to be bullshitting around with anything, and I think relationships are the same. Something happened along the way, no?”

Ah, there it is, the feared question. Why was he on that app? Originally it was a joke, he wasn’t taking it seriously, and yet here he is, sitting on the couch with someone from a sugar daddy app of all places. He could lie to you, say he just wanted some company for the night just to save his own ass. But one look at your face and he knew the last thing he wanted to do was use the usual facade that fed the void in his chest. 

He pauses for a beat before finding his words.

“I was married for a few years. The divorce was finalized a few months ago, but feels like it happened way before that.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus.” Your palm flies to his knee in a supporting pat, the action not lost to him as warmth springs from your touch for a moment before taking it back.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Things just didn’t work out, it wasn’t in the cards.” He fidgets with the ring on his right hand, a nervous tick he’s adopted over time as the air thickens in the room. Moving the spotlight from himself, he flips the question to you. “And what about you? Why were you on the app?”

“Honestly, I forgot I still had an account after doing this a few times, never really worked out in the past. I was about to deactivate my profile when I saw your super like. Didn’t want to pass up the opportunity, so I answered. Besides, I was curious about you.”

“You must’ve had hundreds of profile matches at that point.” You chortle under your breath.

“Oh, please. You open the app and it’s just all up in your face. It’s so…overwhelming. But if it’s any comfort, you were the only account I liked back.”

Marcus’ neck pivots to peer at you, sincere in your confession to him. He fights the urge to have his lips curve upwards, instead he shifts his gaze back down to the floor with a shake of his head.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious,” you jest, straightening your back and jokingly slapping his bicep. “You’re sitting here acting like you didn't have hundreds of likes coming out of the woodworks.”

“Seeing that high number took me off guard, I’m surprised my phone didn’t glitch from it and I was spared from getting a headache. But I didn’t really care much for the rest. I liked your account and turned my phone off, called it a day.”

Your eyes bore on to Marcus’ face, staring at him incredulously. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Lots of beautiful women on there, don’t get me wrong. However, I’m more particular about what I like.” He ogles at you, as if he needed to make it any more obvious he found you attractive. The thought brings heat to your cheeks, the alcohol doing wonders to lower your inhibitions.

Your sight detours to his hand where his thumb runs over the emerald signet ring on his pinkie, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“What’s with the ring?” You jut your chin out to point to the shiny piece of jewelry.

“Family heirloom. Been in my family since my grandfather, went to my father, and now passed down to me. Just something I mess with often.”

“Can I see it?” You move your hand towards him, suggesting that you want to see the emerald piece up close.

Marcus offers you his hand, your fingers grazing his palm as you look at the ring. He tries his best not to think too much about the way your touch feels, how your soft fingers sweep his calloused ones as you examine the way the ring circles around his thick digit, running your thumb over the emerald stone at the center.

To his disbelief, you bring his hand to your cheek, his knuckles caressing over your jaw and ear before guiding it towards your neck. The knuckle of his pointer finger rasps the front of your throat and the divot of your collarbone, your fingers circling his wrist and slowly bringing his touch down the middle of your chest. His heart pounds in his ribs when you drag his hand over your midriff before placing it on your waist, comfortably laying on your hip and he gives you a nervous squeeze.

Swiftly, you shift your position on the couch, bending on your knees to crawl towards his lap. Marcus watches you the entire time, leaning backwards and letting you get situated with zero protest. The end of your dress rides up your thighs slowly, your hands on his chest, sensing the tension radiating off of him in waves. He keeps both of his hands on your waist, his head angled back to hold your gaze, concealing the groan that threatens to escape from feeling your body over his.

“Is this okay?” You ask, seeing him nod. “Marcus…” you entice him with a whisper, leaning towards him, the tips of your noses edging together. “I really want to kiss you.”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up to his forehead as he gawks at you, slightly tipsy from your earlier drink coursing through your veins. He’s considerate enough to keep his hands on your waist, holding you steady as you stare at him with stars in your vision.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” You press yourself against him, one hand on his chest as your words captivate him. His focus lingers in your hazy eyes, then drifts to your lips, watching how they part subconsciously with every breath. Succumbing to his desires, he nods again, and you tip forward to slot your mouth over his.

It’s the lightest of pecks, brief and sweet enough to not overwhelm either of you, a test of boundaries. You briskly pull away, carefully watching Marcus’ reaction, reading his body language to see whether or not he wants to pause or keep going. He squeezes your waist, and that is all the initiative you need to kiss him again.

With a faint grin, you offer him another peck, then another, and another. After every kiss, the gloss on your lips fades and transfers to his mouth, and by the fourth peck, he pinches your chin and brings you forward to kiss you with more intention. Your body ignites with the prolonged feel of his mouth against yours, the curve in your spine deepens and your hands move on their own.

Marcus lets you lead him into the kiss, following your pace and sighing in content when your fingers thread through the hair on his nape, tugging the strands a little to angle his head differently. A groan rumbles in his chest from your touch, taking advantage of this position and teasing your tongue over his bottom lip, signaling you want to taste more of him.

Granting you passage, his mouth opens to welcome your tongue, curling around his own and keeping your grip on him. Slanting your head to the side to get the right angle, your body inches nearer as your hips press over his. Without much thought, his hands move up your back, the feel of his palms a comfort against your heated skin, trailing lower to cup your ass. The action forces you to gasp, pulling away to find darkened brown eyes staring at you carefully and bringing his hands back to your waist, the start of an apology dying on his lips before you interrupted him. “It’s okay, Marcus. You can touch me.” You coax his hand down to your lower back, fingers intertwined with his and urging him to squeeze your tender flesh. “I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t need any more convincing, the desire he’s been carrying all night dominates the rest of his self-doubt. Palming your ass with one hand and keeping the other on your side, he swoops in for another passionate kiss, more comfortable in initiating this time around. You simply let him have it, the edge of your dress riding up your thighs as your hips settle over his, the center of you pulsing after another greedy squeeze.

The need for his attention grows more ravenous as you sit prettily over his lap, carding your fingers through his graying strands. Discreetly, your hips hesitantly shift over his hips, feeling the evident bulge developing under your thigh. Marcus bites your bottom lip at your slight movement, pushing his hips closer to yours as his cock hardens in his slacks.

Plucking your lips away from his, you litter kisses over his cheek and the side of his jaw, nipping at the juncture where his jaw meets his neck. He grunts when you finally reach his neck, gliding your tongue over the vein that pulses along with the rest of him. Head thrown back on the edge of the couch, he lets you touch him however you want, kneading your rear with his thick fingers, skimming over more of your bare skin as your dress moves higher up your body. 

It all feels too good, the realization of just how touch deprived he is hits him like a ton of bricks. Here you are sitting on his lap, grinding against him in such a way he can feel your heat through his clothes, your scent wafting under his nose with your close proximity. It’s almost too much for him to take.

And he doesn’t want you to stop.

Controlling your movements over him, you adopt a steady rhythm gyrating your body against his thighs, his hands encouraging you with every push and pull. Your panties begin to stick to you, the gluttony enrapturing you growing to new heights as the erection hidden under expensive material twitches the harder you grind. Decorum out of the window, Marcus fantasizes what it must feel like to be between your legs; imagines if you taste just as sweet as you smell, or if your cunt would tighten and clench around him when he brought you to the edge over and over again until the only thing you remembered was his name.

His own imagination paired with your incessant humping forces his body to hit his peak prematurely, shuddering under you with a rasped groan. You’re stunned as his body betrays him, the bump in his pants deflating once the wave of pleasure is done washing over him, his grip tightening around your hips.

The air around you crackles despite the silence, stiff as you observe the man underneath you trying to catch his breath. You can tell he wasn’t expecting this to happen, much less to feel so much he ended up spilling in his briefs from a little bit of kissing and movement. His bearded cheeks are shaded with hints of pink and his eyes distantly off to the side, avoiding your observant gaze.

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Marcus starts, the self deprecating thoughts running rampant in his head from his mediocre performance.

He curses himself, thinking he should’ve been better prepared for this, maybe jerked off before the date to begin with in hopes he would last longer. This certainly is a first for him, coming prematurely like a fucking teenager was not something he’s known for, and should be reason enough to bury him six feet under from the embarrassment.

“Don’t be. Honestly, it’s kind of flattering,” you affirm bashfully as the last bits of your arousal settle in your gut. “I think it’s hot.”

“Really?” Marcus flexes his eyebrows, seeking your reassurance.

“Feeling so good you just couldn’t help yourself? It’s sexy. I’ll take it as a compliment,” you express, kissing him sweeter than you had for the past thirty minutes. “I can clean you up if you want…”

Your hushed words make his cock twitch again despite already making a mess in his briefs. His mind is going into overdrive, envisioning you on your knees, pretty mouth wrapped around his length and your manicured nails handling the rest.

Next time.

“No, it’s alright. I’d rather repay the favor.” Sure, it might’ve appeared to be a form of damage control, but the reality is he’s developed a craving that only you could satisfy.

“You don’t have to Marcus, it’s fine really. I don’t mind.”

“I’m not the kind of man to leave a woman unsatisfied. Not in my character.” He kisses you again, reviving the same familiar pulse from between your legs. “Let me make you feel good.”

A whimper threatens to slip past your lips, but you swallow it down. From the way he kissed your lipstick off, you wondered what it would feel like to have his mouth on another part of you, granting you something you desperately needed since getting in the car from the restaurant. Reason had already left your mind a while ago, and your body spoke of your intentions before you confirmed them yourself, muttering an airy okay with a nod.

You barely register how smoothly he maneuvers you, the shift so seamless it feels like second nature. You’re sinking into the couch, your back meeting the plush cushions as he takes control.

Marcus doesn’t rush. He never does. Not in business, not in conversation, and certainly not in bed.

But right now, with you spread out on his couch, looking at him like you’re daring him to take whatever he wants, he feels something hungry unravel inside him.

He moves with intention, mouth against yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Your spine arches, breasts pressed up against his chest, fingers ghosting over his shoulders, clenching when he drags his lips from yours to your jaw, then down your neck.

You smell divine.

He lingers at your neck as he inhales against your skin, your perfume an aphrodisiac that disorients him, fogging his mind. It makes a groan vibrate deep in his chest, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin, your nipples hardening beneath the fabric of your dress.

Marcus cups your tits in his large hands, relishing the weight of them, the way they fill his palms so perfectly. He squeezes, kneading the satin-covered flesh, his thumbs dragging over stiffened peaks.

His deep exhale fans over your plump breasts before he continues downward, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His facial hair grazes your skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.

He licks the swells of your chest, teeth nipping at the supple skin, making you yelp playfully and you can feel the small smirk that pulls at his lips before he moves lower, veiled brown eyes flitting up to your flustered face as his tongue mouths your nipple over the dress, biting down on it softly.

“You like that?” He asks, already knowing the damn answer, the satin dampening beneath his tongue as he flicks and sucks at the hardened bud.

“Yes, Marcus…” The breathy sigh of his name is like music to his ears, neck tilting back as your eyes flutter close when he repeats the action on your other breast, kneading its twin in his large hand.

“You are so gorgeous.”

He shifts again, going lower, pushing the skirt of your pretty dress up until it’s bunched at your waist. His palms are warm and firm as he trails kisses above your mound, teasing you with his descent. Your thighs twitch under his touch, anticipation buzzing through you like an electric current.

He spreads your legs wide, pushing them up to your chest and keeping you in the position he wants by pressing his hands to the back of your thighs near where your knees bend.

The sight of your barely covered sex is more erotic than if you had forgone the undergarment all together. Short, dark curls tease him over the flimsy hem of your panties and his cock stirs at the sight despite the mess he’s already made in his slacks.

“She’s real pretty.” His voice drops an octave, the rasp in it making the compliment sound wanton. Your hips move on their own ever so slightly, a natural reaction your pussy is having to his tone, chasing the sound.

Marcus hums, a quiet sound of appreciation, feeding off every little tic of yours. His lips part slightly, tongue rolling over them as his attention remains on your thong.

Thin black lace, skimpy. Practically useless.

His fingers toy with the waistband, slipping beneath it, testing the stretch. Then, with a little too much enthusiasm, he pulls and it gives, the sound of the fabric tearing setting you off even more.

He almost scoffs. The material of it feels expensive beneath his touch yet it rips so easily. He could easily buy you a hundred of these. Better.

Your eyes lazily find his and for a moment, there’s nothing but a silent exchange between you—a subtle tilt of your head, the slight arch of your brow, questioning. Are you really going to do it?

His smirk is slow, knowing. A dimple dents his cheek.

Yes.

And with that, he grips the lace and rips the damn thing off, throwing it over his shoulder. The ruined panties fall onto the coffee table behind him, forgotten.

Now you’re completely bare, the lips of your pussy spread from how he’s got your legs parted, sex aching and glistening beneath the dim opulent lighting. A perfect, needy mess just for him.

The soft trail of hair that leads down to your pretty cunt has Marcus leaning in, nuzzling his strong nose against you, inhaling the musky scent that lingers there, letting it invade his senses and seep into his bloodstream like an intoxicant. 

His tongue follows next, broad and slow, dragging up the length of the strip, savoring the contrast of coarse curls against the slick warmth of his mouth. The taste of you spreads across his tongue, earthy and sweet. You let out a drawn out moan, palms sinking into the couch as you attempt to ground yourself amidst the sensation.

“Shit,” the curse word is muttered, barely audible as you feel delirious from feeling him so close to where you need him. You don’t remember how long it’s been since you craved the touch of a man like this, and it doesn’t help that the alcohol you’ve been consuming all night is amplifying your lust.

Your pussy flutters involuntarily, a fresh trickle of sweet arousal slipping lower, trailing down to the curve of your ass.

Marcus is enraptured, taking in your exposed, creamy flesh, how your smell infiltrates his nose and it’s like his eyes gloss over with a carnal desire to devour you, eat you until you’re crying and begging him to stop.

He needs to reel it in, remind himself that it’s only the first night. He can’t overwhelm you too quickly, scare you away before he’s able to show you what he’s truly capable of. Of how good he can actually make you feel.

“So wet,” he mutters as he maps wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His fingers sink into the soft, pliant flesh, squeezing, kneading—reverent in his touch. He drags his lips closer, his breath ghosting over your messy cunt, teasing but never quite giving.

“Hard to hold back when you’re spread out like this,” he murmurs, nosing against the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your core. “But fuck, sweetheart… I don’t think I want to.”

“Didn’t get the impression that you could hold back.” The timbre of your tone makes him pause, pulling away slightly to look at you properly.

“If I really let you have it…you’d already be begging me to let you breathe.”

The glint of amusement that flickers through your gaze is gone in a blink, replaced by unguarded desire.

“I can handle it.”

His smoldering stare rises to meet yours, narrowing just slightly, a silent challenge passing between you. His thumbs press into your skin as if testing the truth of your statement.

You’re bracing yourself beneath his touch, muscles tensing in anticipation, as if proving to him that your words aren’t just bravado. You mean them. You want this. You want him.

Good. He wants you to need this as badly as he does.

The first swipe of his tongue is slow, savoring, as if he’s tasting something forbidden, something he’s been denied for too long. But patience? That doesn’t last. It shatters the second he gets his first real taste, and the groan that rumbles deep in his chest is downright filthy.

Marcus is gone.

He buries himself into your pussy, tongue dragging flat up your slit before going taut and flicking up to your clit, testing what makes you gasp and elicit more of those sweet noises that fill his ears.

“Oh Marcus, just like that.” It’s as if he flips a switch that has your words pouring out. “You’re doing so good.”

Your praise melts into him, impassioning him. He’s been craving this kind of lust for years. It’s been too fucking long since he let himself indulge in his roaring sexual appetite.

He swirls your sensitive nub around with his tongue, sealing his lips around the pert flesh. He suckles on it, making out with your pussy, having you wail out like an aching woman.

Marcus thrives off the way your hips rock toward his mouth, groaning like he’s savoring a meal far more decadent than the dinner from earlier tonight.

Your heady and potent taste drowns his taste buds, clit pulsing against his tongue—all of it is enough to make him lightheaded. His big hands curl around your thighs, pulling you somehow closer, the friction of his nose and beard rubbing against your pussy making you keen and further lose yourself in the pleasure he is giving you.

“Fuck don’t stop, oh my god.” Your sounds turn pornographic, tugging at his hair while your other hand moves up to palm your own breast, the fabric of your dress slipping until your chest is exposed, nipples sensitive to the cool air.

The hand at your left thigh traverses up, nudging your hand out of the way and you let him grab a handful of your tit. The growl he emits vibrates against your sex as his fingers begin to roll and pull at the perky bud.

Marcus’ tongue then slips inside your fluttering entrance, fucking into you as his aquiline nose rubs your slick pearl.

The obscene sounds of his mouth working you over fill the room—sucking, slurping, the guttural groans that rumble from his chest every time he dives back in like he can’t get enough. Because he can’t. He’s drunk on you, addicted after only minutes, and the more you writhe beneath him, the more he loses himself in it.

Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. His name becomes a hymn as your orgasm looms, taunting you, threatening to end this beautiful, salacious act despite you wanting to live in this pocket of pleasure for the rest of the night.

You did not expect him to be this good or fucking eager. Most men treat a woman’s pleasure like an afterthought, something to be checked off a list before they roll over and chase their own release. But not him. He’s eating like he’s never going to get the chance again, showing you with every flick of his tongue, every messy, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt, exactly how much he enjoys this.

Your hand moves on instinct, covering his where it grips your breast, your nails raking over his knuckles and the sleek face of his expensive watch, dragging down until you can feel the veins running beneath his skin. His tongue doesn’t slow, doesn’t falter, even as you babble through a desperate plea.

“I’m right there, mmm don’t stop, please.”

You gyrate against his handsome face, claiming him in the messiest, most unceremonious way, coating his chin, his nose, those full lips that have been driving you insane all night. 

He can feel your desperation in how your fingers clench his hair or how your other hand moves to grip the back of the couch, back arching high off the cushions. You’re unraveling for him, and fuck, that just makes him want to push you further.

Marcus doesn’t need his fingers to make you come. Just his mouth. Just his tongue plunging into you, curling, lapping up everything you give him, working you until you’re trembling—until those soft gasps turn into ragged, broken moans.

And when you finally finish, when you sob his name like it’s the only thing you know, Marcus still does not stop.

He takes your orgasm, drinks it down, tongue still lapping at your sex as your thighs snap shut around his head, as if you’re trying to pull him deeper, to keep him there. And he lets you smother him, lets himself drown in you.

It’s overwhelming. Your vision blurs, lashes wet with tears, streaks of mascara and eyeliner running down your cheeks. You’re coming apart under the relentless assault of his mouth again, your second orgasm stretching, rolling, growing into something bigger than yourself.

“I—I—” The words tangle in your throat, lost in the heat of it all, stolen by the wicked, practiced flicks of his wet muscle. When he pulls back, it’s only to drag his tongue over his bottom lip, hollowing his cheeks and spitting filthily onto your throbbing cunt.

“Thought you could handle it?” He taunts before diving back in, both hands returning to keep you firmly against his face.

You can’t think straight, thoughts slipping through your grasp like water. “T-Too much, oh—” you attempt to pull your hips away, body writhing as if you were a possessed woman, the overstimulation of it all feeling like you’re burning from the inside out in the best way possible.

But Marcus keeps you locked down tightly, staring intensely up at you, letting the edges of his teeth graze along your sensitive clit. A white-hot jolt of sensation rockets up your spine and makes you scream so high-pitched, you’re sure the windows of his penthouse rattle from the force of it.

Your back bows violently, stiffening as the pleasure crashes over you, unexpected and devastating. Your release gushes out in a messy, sinful rush, soaking the lower half of his face. Marcus groans deeply, slurping it, shaking his head against your cunt to smear it all over, the primal feel of it all only intensifying with each drop of yours that he tastes. 

Only when you finally slump against the couch, spent and trembling, does he ease up, pressing lingering kisses to your clit, enjoying how your pussy twitches from coming so hard. A thin string of your essence clings to his lips as he finally—reluctantly—pulls back, breathing heavily, dragging the back of his hand across his slick beard.

The blissfully wrecked look on your face is one that’s going to be burned into the back of his eyelids for eternity. It’s in this moment; as he takes in your swollen lips, ruined makeup, and your ravished body, that something in him clicks. It makes Marcus recognize that whatever this is sprouting between you two is something he wants to continue to chase.

He flashes you a lopsided smirk, one that deepens when the single curl falls onto his forehead. Kisses are placed on each quivering inner thigh in an attempt to soothe the tremors still running through your body, before he begins his ascent, reversing the path that led him to the heaven between your legs.

The skirt of your dress is smoothed down with careful hands, his large fingers tugging the fabric into place, covering you as if he’s tucking away something precious. Then, with the same tenderness, he draws the neckline back over your chest. But his lips don’t stop their journey. They find your neck, trailing up to your jawline, the corner of your mouth—teasing—before finally claiming your lips.

The smell of your pussy clings to him as he kisses you passionately, making you taste yourself. It makes the kiss filthier, his mouth moving against yours with the same fervor he’d shown between your thighs. You whimper into him, feeling the lazy roll of his tongue as he takes his time with you. Neither of you wants to break the moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, still kneeling between your legs, his hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb grazing your cheek before tugging at one of the curls that’s slipped loose from your updo. “Taste so good, too.”

Your smile comes naturally—not coy, not calculated, but soft, bubbling over, breathless. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, and Marcus feels himself get lost in it, entranced by the way you look at him. If this is what he’s rewarded with every time he makes you come, then he’ll gladly do it over and over again.

“Thank you for not holding back,” you finally manage, your voice still wrecked, but carrying that teasing lilt. Your fingers weave into his curls, tugging lightly as you take him in—his dark, blown-out gaze, the shine of your slick still glistening on his beard. “Even if it looked like I was tapping out there for a second. You’ve got real magic in that mouth of yours.”

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Thanks.” His brown eyes soften while he wipes the streaks of your makeup away with his thumb. You could stay like this all night, just looking, feeling, letting the attraction simmer until it boils over and you’re tangled in his sheets with his name on the tip of your tongue.

But you both know better. This is something to savor and let breathe, allowing chemistry to take the lead.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“More than I anticipated.” 

The answer strokes something deep in his chest, an ego he rarely lets get the better of him. But with you? He allows it, just a little.

“I’d like to keep seeing you. If it wasn’t obvious.”

You sigh, still reeling from his ministrations, tilting your head, unable to stop drinking him in. “Same here. You are a very intriguing man, Marcus.”

“And you are a very fascinating woman.” He gently takes the wrist of the hand in his hair, bringing it to his lips, placing a kiss on your palm. It makes your heart stutter. “I’ll call the driver to take you home if you want to go freshen up.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, “Oh? You’re kicking me out?”

“If you want to stay, be my guest.”

The invitation lingers in the air between you, heavy with temptation. And it is tempting, yet despite the fact that he had his mouth buried between your thighs not even five minutes ago, you don’t want to lay all your cards on the table just yet.

“I’ll get out of your hair. My bed beckons me.” 

Marcus stands, offering his hand as he helps you to your feet, pointing you to the direction of the master bathroom. You feel the intensity of his gaze as you walk away, aware of how his eyes track the intentional sway of your hips. You can’t help but smirk.

Only when you disappear behind the door does he exhale, rubbing a hand down his jaw, feeling the sticky remnants of you still clinging to him. He glances at the ruined scrap of lace on the coffee table, sporting a smug smile of his own, grabbing his phone to call the driver.

Once your ride is handled, he moves around the space to gather your things, adjusting himself in his pants, cringing at the reminder of the mess that’s there. 

You emerge a few minutes later, face wiped clean, hair slightly more composed yet just as gorgeous, your legs carrying the delicious remnants of euphoria in every shaky step.

“Mailing you my doctor bill if this problem doesn’t go away anytime soon,” you joke, sinking onto the couch to slip your heels back on.

Marcus smirks, shaking his head as he watches you, holding your gathered belongings in his hands. “Think of it as a souvenir. Something to remember me by until we see each other again.”

“Yeah? And when will that be?”

“You tell me.”

You hum, pretending to consider as you rise to your feet, your body brushing just close enough to tempt. “I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you.”

You reach for the delicate scrap of lace left abandoned on his coffee table. “You owe me a new pair, by the way.”

He chuckles, helping you slip into your jacket, then handing over your things. “That thing was on its last thread. Surprised it didn’t just dissolve off you with how soaked you got it.”

You roll your eyes, biting down on your lip as warmth creeps up your neck at the memory. He watches the way you react, the way your body still responds to him even now, and it only cements his need to see you again.

Guiding you out of the penthouse, he keeps conversation light, the easy chemistry between you both lingering like an unspoken promise. But the moment you step into the lobby, you feel the burn of the doorman’s knowing stare, his amusement barely concealed as he tips his head in greeting.

“Have a good night, miss,” he says, and you fight the urge to duck your head in embarrassment, thanking him quietly.

Outside, the cool Chicago night air wraps around you as a sleek black Escalade idles in the porte-cochère, waiting. Marcus, ever the gentleman, steps ahead to open the car door for you.

You stop just before getting in, looking up at him, your voice soft. “Thank you for tonight. I had a wonderful time—you’re great company.”

He grins. “Likewise, beautiful. I’m glad you didn’t deactivate your account when you did.”

Your heart flutters at that, and before you can second-guess it, you lean up on your toes, pressing a series of slow, lingering kisses to his lips. He hums against your mouth, his hand naturally finding its place on your waist, the metal of his ring grazing the fabric of your dress.

“Let me know when you make it home, alright?” he murmurs against your lips.

“I will.”

One last kiss, then you pull away, climbing into the backseat. You share a final, lingering glance through the open door.

“Good night, Marcus.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

You smile, and with that, he shuts the door. The SUV pulls away, disappearing into the city streets, swallowed by the skyline. Marcus watches until you’re gone, your touch still burning against his skin, your scent still clinging to his shirt.

He exhales heavily, running his fingers through his hair before turning back toward the building.

“Have a good evening, sir?”

Marcus smirks, the memory of your body, your taste, your voice still fresh in his mind.

“The best I’ve had in a long time.”

[sillyfakeboy]

Detrans Note Game

spamming is allowed and encouraged!!

repeating

every 5 notes - grow my hair out another day

every 10 notes - keep my face clean shaven another day

every 50 notes - a day without binding at all (not consecutive due to work)

non-repeating

100 notes - start wearing panties instead of briefs Waiting for my next paycheck to purchase them!

150 notes - keep my pussy shaved as well as my face

200 notes - start playing with my nipples for at least 30 minutes everyday, so they're nice and sensitive started this yesterday and i feel like i can already notice it-

250 notes - go out without my binder on (not allowed to layer clothing) I'll have to wait for a time to do this

300 notes - start pumping my pussy everyday

350 notes - make a profile on a hook-up/dating app (either grindr or tinder)

400 notes - look into ways to induce lactation and start trying them, including pumping my nipples everyday

450 notes - lower my T-shot dosage first lowered shot is this Sunday! (and for those wondering - i have doctor's approval, there's a high likelihood I would've been lowering the shot anyways)

500 notes - meet with someone from the hook-up/dating app and let them fuck me Waiting because of possible period

🎄 Notes Added: 500

i dont think we'll make that, but ill add more goals that you guys suggest if we do! Very clearly these goals were more attractive than I thought lol

of course, if i can post proof i will 🤍

ill stop counting on January 31st, 2025

[freeworldallahmbaclass]

See the yellow statue

The yellow 💛 statue symbolizes me carrying the hood on my back and curing babies and other people infected with the disease HIV it is a statue of finding the cure for HIV with my cofounder the rapper 50 Cent from his hit show power and BMF with the drugs Cabenuva and Demivato which is sponsored specifically by the rapper Vado from Harlem New York City give it up for him and go purchase that song with him and Mary J Blige called the I still believe love song for the medication the drug Cabenuva is said to knock out HIV like the common cold it is 100 percent true and my personal stamp is on it now but you have to be taking the medication as prescribed so that you will go undetected for HIV , the story I was staying with a girl at that time that had HIV I was renting a room from her and I used to walk through that park to go and from work to her apartment .

Remember the Drug Cabenuva knocks out HIV like the common cold but you have to take the medication as prescribed so that you go undetected .

It 100 billion percent works and I put my personal stamp on it to see that people ordinary people from those neighborhoods even without medical insurance or Medicaid and Medicare get that cure . Which I'm approving every clinic hospitals and free clinics get this cure to administer to the people that needs that cure get the cure to go undetected for HIV I authorize all doctors and nurses to get the cure and give it to your patients in all hospitals local neighborhood clinics across the globe , thank you .

Calling all Children's hospital doctors and laboratories and all university inventing new medicine I'm on the lookout for the cure for all children cancers and Leukemia . I'm Calling for the cure for Leukemia and cancer in children can you help me with your expertise I will sponsor your medicine for you and bring it to the light . With my hospital incubator program I aim to treat and cure all illnesses, thank you so much .

Proposing the New day of medicine and cured people act . Just to speak a blessing over your life you have talk as if you already have that cure or remedy that you and your sick family member need to live another day .

Expedient Liver transplant

Expedient Heart transplant

Expedient Kidney transplant

Exo skeleton programs and physical therapy affordable to all levels of medical insurances or lack thereof No more waiting lists and taking years to help heal those in need of an Liver , Kidney or Heart transplant I believe medicine all doctors have advanced in knowledge and in the proper know how to help heal those in pain and in need of their loving care and special expert skills .

I sponsor it the drug and HIV medicine Cabenuva . I sponsor my incubator program and all hospitals on all 7 Continents of this world in every city , town and country even state capitals releasing the cure for cancer all cancers and to give free cancer screening and free cancer treatment for all the types of cancers and stages of cancer treatment to all people no matter their medical insurance coverage , Medicaid and , Medicare and all other insurances or lack thereof included fair treatment for all patients and clients . Facts on cancer I sponsor any lab that is trying to find the cure for Pancreatic cancer , I sponsor it most of the time inventors are afraid to go public with their gadget , widget , app or medical cure because they have nobody that will license it from them and sponsor it , me and my incubator program will sponsor your drug to cure all cancers in all stages I'm into doing the lord's work and bringing people back from the dead or near death experiences , good luck and may medicine and God be with you .

Now If I had HIV Aids I would take the medicine be like me and take your medicine so you could grow up healthy and strong like me and 50 Cent the rap musician from New York City we are co founders of the cure for HIV just know that all things is possible when you believe and have faith and now with Cabenuva we have that cure finally , thank you so much .Calling all top universities in the country and other countries and third world countries and medical science laboratories I'm on the lookout for the cure for all cancers I got the cure for HIV / AIDS now all I need is the cure for cancer I believe in you and I know you can do it . I found the cure for HIV / Aids the drug Cabenuva and Demivato and many more other drugs you have to take the medication as it is prescribed to go undetected for HIV / Aids the acquired immune deficiency syndrome the drug along with better self care like your diet and exercise doing that you will restore yourself back to fully functioning health remember take your medication as it is prescribed and the cure happens one day at a time . I'm also currently working on providing free cancer screening for people on Medicare / Medicaid and even for people without any medical insurance and the cure for all cancers and the treatment and cure for all stages of cancer for people on Medicare / Medicaid and even for people without any medical insurance and hospitals to work with a person's medical insurance company on affordable co- pay for all levels of insurance coverage making it impossible to turn away any person needing that diagnosis , treatment and cure for all cancers excluding none and for all stages of cancer . I see it all the time a person getting turned away because of their medical coverage or lack of coverage and that is unfair in the medical field the job is to treat all ills and reverse the order bring that person back to full health and I sponsor this for all countries across the globe and all hospitals I authorize it to see it go into plans of all clinics and hospitals now , thank you .

My job is to bring back the terminally ill from their death bed with a cure for cancer and with the new assisted treatment from doctors to help patients with the right medical coverage or lack of medical coverage and give them the care they need or the cure they need to reverse that illness and bring them back to full health . On HIV -Pregnant mothers that take the medication is less likely to pass the disease to their unborn infant while in fetus stage and on to their infant children both the parent and the kids can have a bright new future as undetected for HIV/ AIDS .

Some of my latest accomplishments

Wages increased for your workers and annual increases with that hitting all states recently and all of them soon . It definitely hurts to work all week make your paycheck then be broke the next day or two days because of inadequate pay and that is only for a single person what about people with families and they want a future and their kids to have a future and generations of their own family to have a future I say raised their federal minimum wage the wage increase for each city , town and state and regions of America and other countries , thank goodness for permanent free college release that heavy burden from the parents wallets and pocketbooks thank you so much it is my latest accomplishments getting a free college education for you and your kids . I propose that Minimum based wages and salary get a big raise in all regions cities towns and countries California pay $ 20 to $ 22 dollars an hour New York City $ 15 to 17 $ dollars an hour for base salary how about all cities and regions and places like Atlanta , Texas and Louisiana, Kentucky , Alabama raise their pay standards for its every day worker to that same amount of starting out at $ 22 dollars an hour call it eliminating the working poor and poverty in general and paying them a livable wage , pay your workers generously and they will provide better services for your company and represent your companies better with pride and having customers coming back to their second home your store and establishment . This is very sad and needs attention to this some states where people go to work and provide years of hard work to work and get nothing in return from their employers they give great service and keep their customers coming back and yet the minimum wage been stuck since 2009 while so much states have give their workers a raise that is a shame I hope they catch up me and Governor Andrew Cuomo raised for New York state and city and other cities with my incubator my machine and other cities and states followed suit California pay their workers $ 20 dollars now imagine every state in those regions raise their wages to the same amount at $ 20 dollars an hour in Texas , Atlanta , Louisiana , Tennessee, North Carolina and even South Carolina out there hopefully they carry on from there and all states and cities follow suit and raise their wages and pay their workers their fair wage .

A lot of states got through with their wage increased thank you for supporting that I'm honored check to see how much states took on me and Governor Andrew Cuomo pay increase law we started with my hospital incubator program even in Massachusetts now the pay for the everyday worker increased I'm hoping for more for them and politicians they will or should I had fun with my time in office I leave that job to the professionals now they should be raising the federal minimum wage in salary and pay for the everyday regular work and people wish you good luck and love to you and your family . Much love to Harlem New York City shout out to Lorraine bar in Harlem New York City go get a drink enjoy the nightlife and the music from the local music scene while I was granted my second stage my second chance at music so that I can avenge my former self from my death and with Joyce Meyer as my pastor and mom it shows that God truly does really raise people from the dead I'm one that he has raised from the dead through the teachings of my ministers and pastor . Beyonce Knowles Carter introducing me as a blind and deaf guy . My living testimony is if he can do it for me he can do it for you and raise you from the dead as a dead soul , physically , mentally and spiritually I know because God has done it for me and he works miracles like I now work miracles but it is because of his good grace , love and power , Thank God .

Sorry like I said I'm King 👑 Arthur and Joyce Meyer is my Excalibur . My rock my home my library and people I feed them and their families because we are all family and life is only getting better . Announcement I here today swear on God I'm King 👑 Arthur as God is my witness right here and now that I'm King 👑 Arthur even though I'm Black and me being Arthur Pendragon is from the movie King 👑 Arthur legend of the sword 🗡️ my Excalibur which is Joyce Meyer she is my guide teacher and helper . Dax Church my best friend and brother Knighted me along time ago telling me that with all that reading that I do that I will be a very great person it is my luxury now my richness yes all readers are leaders little girls and boys grow up to be kings and beautiful intelligent women that is true now I got my own rock in front of my library given to me and the library is given to me by Governor Andrew Cuomo and Governor Maura Healey my house is your house yes all readers are leaders and no nobody own me or is a judge in my life sorry I'm King and what done is done my kingdom and all mines I mean all our house we are all royalty just learn to develop yourself . They have my picture on the wall of the Berkshire library and in the librarians office Pittsfield Massachusetts and me standing behind Joyce Meyer playing with her hair she is my mom 🤣 and teacher .

https://www.statista.com/statistics/1305217/number-people-with-hiv-african-countries/

Campaigning the drugs Cabenuva and Demivato send my cure for HIV AIDS to Africa Co founders of the Drugs Cabenuva Kanye West , Allen Henry aka Free World ( me ) , 50 Cent the rapper from Queens New York City Cabenuva and Vado and Mary J Blige sponsors Demivato the I still believe in love cure for HIV .

Published by John Elflein, Aug 21, 2024 I would like to cure all these people of HIV . News : As of 2023, South Africa was the country with the highest number of people living with HIV in Africa. At that time, around 7.7 million people in South Africa were HIV positive. In Mozambique, the country with the second-highest number of HIV-positive people in Africa, around 2.4 million people were living with HIV. The African continent, particularly in East and Southern Africa, bears a disproportionate burden of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, with countries like Eswatini, Lesotho, and South Africa having high HIV prevalence rates. Here's a more detailed look at the countries most affected:

Countries with High HIV Prevalence:

Eswatini: Currently has the highest prevalence of HIV in Africa and worldwide, with almost 26% of the population living with HIV.

Lesotho: Follows closely behind Eswatini with a high HIV prevalence rate. South Africa: While not having the highest prevalence, it has the highest total number of people living with HIV in Africa. Other countries with high prevalence rates in Southern Africa:

Botswana, Malawi, Mozambique, Namibia, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. Other countries with high HIV prevalence rates: Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania.

HIV Prevalence in West and Central Africa:HIV transmission is estimated to be lower in West Africa than in the rest of the region. However, countries like Nigeria, Cameroon, and Côte d'Ivoire also have significant HIV/AIDS challenges.

Factors Contributing to the Epidemic:Socio-economic factors:

Poverty, gender inequality, and lack of access to education and healthcare exacerbate the epidemic.

Cultural norms: Certain cultural practices, such as intergenerational sex and non-condom use, can contribute to HIV transmission.

Structural factors: Labor migration, family disruption, and entrenched social and economic inequalities can also play a role. Progress and Challenges

:Progress in treatment:

Antiretroviral treatment (ART) has significantly reduced HIV-related deaths and improved the lives of people living with HIV. Challenges in prevention:

Despite progress, new infections continue to occur, particularly among young women. Stigma and discrimination:

Stigma and discrimination surrounding HIV/AIDS can prevent people from accessing testing, treatment, and care.

Read facts in this post on Cabenuva knocking out HIV like the common cold and leaving a person undetected for HIV .

I know their an unborn child being born with HIV and maybe a baby dying right now as we speak with the disease due to a lack of help and love and me and my co founders of the cure would like to be their superheros and save them for something that is now curable HIV Cabenuva can knock out HIV like the common cold and leave a person undetected for HIV .

I found the countries needing that help please send the cure for those that need it , thank you .

David Muir I hope he gets the news 📰🗞️ and report it about the cure for HIV and sending it to Africa , yeah mommy we getting the cure for HIV , go Africa yeah , mom and dad and the kids are getting the cure 🌍 thank goodness their is finally a cure for HIV . I decided not to Knight bloods I broke the friendship off with them no thank you I'm not bounded to them that easy them African Americans and white people need to get off me with that voodoo and get out of my life and people that is born to get in my way in life need to get out of my way in life and get a life of their own and out of my life and personal business wack rappers and rats and all these actors and that game they got going on in Pittsfield Massachusetts no thank you .

Sorry like I said I'm King 👑 Arthur and Joyce Meyer is my Excalibur .

Hey important message I don't know why the people that is controlling the situation around me why they are doing it but they got females fighting around me and badly hurting them and bruising their faces that is women no good stop the violence it is bad enough these women are down on their luck and living in shelters very dangerous shelters they are controlling them making them fight one another , I said no and that is my decree stop the violence and learn to talk things out as friends in peaceful conflict resolution.

I propose for an increase in apartment voucher program for the temporarily homeless in Pittsfield Massachusetts counselor at these homeless shelters should be able give to their clients an apartment voucher or voucher for full payment of their rent for their apartments for singles or homeless families in need of a warm apartment to stay in with the human resources administration compliance of their client to receive the full rent coverage for their apartment . Literacy programs calling for volunteers to teach unemployed Latin , Russian , Asian and other foreign people the English language and how to fill out job applications and do resumes and cover letters and how to conduct themselves on job interviews to help with their social mobility in America .

Resume and cover letter workshops should focus on the different types of resumes that can get a person a job , cover letters are just to say hey I got the right qualifications for that job and I did my research on that particular company and I'm interested in working for them and these are the skills soft skills the get along attitude and the aptitude the know how of to get that job done .

Three types of resumes :

Functional resumes

Chronological resumes

Functioning and then chronological resumes and build on showing people that never been employed any soft skills and hard skills they may have that is called their transferrable skills that can be used by an employer for their jobs .

I Want to take this opportunity to say thank you to some of the Super Women in my life that taught me and sponsors me getting up in this second chance in my life both women well all three women I'm greatly fans of and love , Thank you Nicki Minaj the rapper the female gangster rapper , Cardi B the Mami from the Bronx New York City I love your music and Meaghan the Stallion from Houston Texas love you and thank you for your sponsorship I gotta go to my basic training on learning the basics and fundamentals of me getting my second chance in my life , thank you .

[some-triangles]

This is the order of events as nearly as I can reconstruct them.

In 2008 I start following a webcomic called Problem Sleuth.

In 2009 Problem Sleuth wraps up. The author, Andrew Hussie, begins work on 🤡's next project, a mixed media piece called Homestuck.

In 2010 I become an evangelist for Homestuck. I spread the word to my college friend Stephen. He joins an online Homestuck RP group. I move to New York. That fall, Stephen visits me and introduces me to a guy from the group named Josh, who plays Rose. I am immediately infatuated.

In 2011 Stephen starts development on a real life Pesterchum app. I organize a Homestuck group cosplay and we go to Anime Central with our whole college anime club dressed up as trolls. I sit in a field with 50 Daves. I write my first Homestuck fanfiction, which is also my first anything fanfiction. Josh moves into my apartment. Stephen is dating a pair of bisexual cosplayers. Act 5 concludes. It is Peak Homestuck.

In 2012 my girlfriend tells me that I am no longer allowed to talk about Homestuck with her. The What Pumpkin organization - Homestuck is too big to be one person's project anymore - launches a kickstarter for a Homestuck video game, which raises 2.5 million dollars. At the same time, it is becoming clear that something is wrong with Homestuck itself. The author is fed up with the project but is now financially bound to it. The content becomes increasingly mean-spirited and critical of its audience as What Pumpkin tries to turn itself into a game company.

In 2013 What Pumpkin loses a significant chunk of its Kickstarter money - how much we'll never know - through a comical series of development boondoggles. Stephen launches a Kickstarter to fund an expansion of the Pesterchum app - now the haunt of a large online community - and What Pumpkin shuts it down. Josh no longer reads Homestuck but we're still living together and we start a podcast.

In 2014 Homestuck is mostly on hiatus. When it returns I start this blog, which was originally called "Two Triangles," after Dirk's shades. Most of the old crew have stopped caring about Homestuck but I am a die-hard. I write more fanfiction, mostly lesbian fluff. I begin to meet new people who are still invested in the whole thing. This and the podcast become the core of my new social world. Homestuck itself is getting more and more chaotic and diffuse but I still believe Andrew can tie it all together.

In 2015 I break. I write a fanfic called "Theatre of Coolty," which is my Dear John letter to Andrew Hussie. (I kill him in the story, which is par for the course.) It becomes the most popular thing I have ever made, and is most likely the most popular thing I ever will make. It is translated into multiple languages. A person called Naked Bee (who becomes another dear friend) turns it into a short film with puppets. I have grown to hate Homestuck but it is now my primary source of external validation and the foundation of my social media presence.

In 2016 Homestuck ends. The last year of its existence is an extraordinary act of creative self-erasure. Hussie vanishes by degrees, and by the time the finale rolls out no trace of 🤡's writing or art is left in the product. It is an abnegation worthy of Prospero. To complete this act of conceptual self-destruction, 🤡 ends up selling the entire product to Viz, who let it corrode. (Nine years later, homestuck.com is a dead link, mspaintadventures an abandoned swamp of broken pngs.) Meanwhile, I provide the narration for Bee's audio adaptation of a novel-length Homestuck fanfiction called Detective Pony, which she later turns into a feature film. The author of the fic/novel goes on to Kickstart a dating sim based on the 2016 Republican primary, which he calls Grand Old Academy. It has yet to be published.

In 2017 I leave New York. My friendship with Josh deteriorates and our podcast ends. I am no longer a Homestuck fan. As such I rebrand - the number of triangles I am is no longer anyone's business.

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In 2021, Andrew Hussie releases a visual novel called Psycholonials. I do not read it.

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In 2025, I am back in New York, albeit not in the city. I'm married to someone I met through this blog. Most of my closest friends are people I met either through Homestuck or through the projects that came out of it. Even my college friends - the ones I still talk to - are the ones who went through the wars with me. My wife thinks Psycholonials is worth reading. One night we sit down and play through it together.

Psycholonials is a nasty, nihilistic little story about a fucking idiot who accidentally creates a movement and then runs away like a bitch when it gets to be too much, back into the bosom of 🤡's trust fund. It's also really good. It has all the things I loved about Homestuck, all the stuff I missed as 🤡 left it to rot. It demonstrates that 🤡 is not washed, that the failure of Homestuck was not because 🤡 lost the juice. 🤡 abandoned us on purpose. 🤡 chose 🤡 over us.

This was objectively the correct decision. And when you come right down to it, 🤡 never signed up to change my life. It just happened.

Still, I can't say that it doesn't hurt a little, sitting here in my 40s. I guess everyone follows at least one failed messiah. So, yet another farewell to the cool big brother I never had. I hope this is the last one.