#attitudes to self-publishing

[rozmorris]

Not a fast writer? You can still build a successful publishing strategy - guest spot at @IndieAuthorAlli

The classic advice for authors, particularly indie authors, is to pump out a lot of books fast to build a big backlist and keep your readers interested. But that pace of writing and production doesn’t suit everybody. Exhibit A, the introduction to my newsletter. For a long time, slow-burn authors in the indie world weren’t getting seen or acknowledged. Most of the guidance was geared to fast…

[maggiegrace]

#books #self publishing #authors of Tumblr

derramei meu coração nas páginas, depois de três longos anos, de amor, desgosto e cura. Este livro de poemas está completo e pronto para ser compartilhado. do meu coração para o seu, aproveite.💜🐝📖

Obrigado pela ajuda

mulher levanta mulheres 💕

Você pode encontrá-lo aqui

[dj-of-the-coven]

summing up a different post of mine in a much smaller package

[quazart]

The Emerald Comes First

(Modern/ X)Knuckles x (platonic!) Reader

He'd finally gotten the last piece of the emerald back. But, it being in the city had taken a while. Finding all the lost pieces had taken a while. Here he is, almost two weeks later, and barely finished.

Pathetic.

It was already a shame he'd let himself be cornered by that idiot doctor, giving him no choice but to shatter the very purpose of his being. But taking this long to find all the pieces? That made the guilt eat away at him even worse.

A growling interrupted his thoughts. He looked down at himself, disgruntled.

Or maybe it was just his stomach eating itself. 

Frowning, he carries on. It didn't matter right now. Once he was back on his island, then he could relax and eat something. 

He finds a tall enough jump point and leaps into the air. His dreads catching a gust and allowing him to ride the wind home. Picking a new current every once in a while to take him to his desired destination. 

His eyes are dry and red from lack of sleep and it takes effort to keep them open. He's so very tired, having slept little to none during his quest. 

But the emerald came first. He could recover later. 

Unfortunately for him, his body disagreed. His eyes droop and shut for, what felt like, only a moment. This little mistake sending him diving into another current and traveling in the wrong direction. His eyes snap open at the shift and he attempts to right himself before he could fall straight out of the sky. 

He growls and searches for another current to get him back on course. He had to be quick. His glide making him fall miles and miles the wrong way, with each passing minute. 

'There's one!'

He feels for it and turns. The strong gust sending him back where he was originally headed. 

A couple minutes pass before he finally sees his island come into view. 

He sighs, so close.

His excitement and relief cause his muscles to relax, for the first time in a while. He is very close to passing out from exhaustion.

He'd been fighting and searching with no breaks for a little over a week and a half, and his body was more than ready for rest. 

His eyes were beginning to fall again. Only one thought floating around in his mind kept him awake.

The emerald. 

He's just a couple yards away now. Almost there. He begins to zone out.

Until he suddenly finds his vision taken over by a face full of, '(y/n)?!'

You both yell in surprise, not having seen the other until a second before Knuckles crashed right into you.

"Puah!!"

"Oof!!"

Both of you fall over, the echidna landing ontop of you and sending you back a couple feet before stopping. The emerald pieces scatter around you both. Having fallen out of Knuckles grasp, upon impact.

You stay on the ground, unmoving, for a moment. Temporarily, K.O.'d by the sudden echidna's arrival. 

Knuckles was left dazed, but not from the impact. Yes, he was surprised to see you here, but his body is finally getting what it's needed, and he's not sure he can fight its urge to rest much longer.

He was home, his friend was here, the emerald was here.

Everything was fine.

'Wait, the emerald!'

With eyes half-lidded, but still alert,  he lifts his head enough to count the pieces of the gem, ensuring they were all still there. They were. He releases a breath he was holding, in relief, and puts his head back on your shoulder. You wouldn't mind if he took two minutes to rest his eyes would you? 

You were greatly surprised by your friends entrance. How had you not seen him? How did he not see you? A bright red echidna, or a human, on Angel Island? You don't see many humans here. Or any for that matter. Even mobians! How did he manage to run into you?

You take a good look at him. There are bags under his eyes. When did he last sleep? His frame seemed slightly slimmer compared to the last time you saw him. And his tail, which naturally stood raised high, laid limp behind him. He looked exhausted. 

"Knuckles?... Knux?"

He groans as you boop his snoot. A violet eye peeks at you. Letting you know he's listening, more or less.

"Knux, when was the last time you slept?"

He weakly shrugs. Closing his eye. His fatigued brain and body wanting nothing more than some lovely sleep. A fuzzy, blissful feeling just from closing his eyes, taking over his senses. Making him not even bother to fight anymore.

You glare, what does he mean by a shrug? He doesn't know, or it doesn't matter? Either one isn't good.

But apparently not bad enough.

His stomach rumbles, strong enough to practically shake his little frame. He curls in on himself with a grunt. The grumbling lessening, but not going away.

'The idiot hasn't been eating either?!'

Now very worried for him, you quickly sit up. While upsetting your friend, you didn't care. 

He remains in a dazed sitting position, watching as you quickly pick up all the emerald pieces and gesture for him to follow you. He gives you a blank face, but gets up. Or, tries to at least. His shaky limbs not wanting to cooperate with their neglectful owner. No sleep. No food. And on the move for almost two weeks, it was surprising he hadn't full on collapsed yet.

You sigh and frown, this is gonna take forever, unless you do something.

You walk over to where he's standing, his legs shaking under his weight, and gently pick him up and holding him like a sack of potatoes over your shoulder. Your arm looping over his side and back, and his limbs hanging on either side. His head facing behind you as you began your trek to the shrine.

Knowing where you were headed, and having�� nothing else to do, Knuckles relaxed and dozed off in your hold. Too tired to argue or fight against the ridiculous way you held him. 

Although, he wouldn't admit it for the life of him, he secretly loved any and all physical contact. Especially when it came from you. You being the only one, of all his friends, that he trusted the most. Besides Sonic and Tails. 

He fell asleep to the sound of your steps and sway of your walk.

The poor idiot.

You tell him, time and time again, 'Take care of yourself or there won't be a guardian to watch over the M.E.', but does he listen? No! Of course not! You're just a human who knows nothing about mobians, let alone an ancient tribe and their ways of protecting a big green rock. It's not like you're his best friend or anything, who he's repeatedly told the history and importance of the emerald and the island to. Or how echidnas, and any mobians in general, have the same basic needs as humans, such as the need for rest and food! No, no. You were an ignorant little human. You didn't know what you were taking about. 

You take a deep breath and sigh, looking at your friend. Sound asleep.  No. You couldn't blame him too much.

For neglecting himself, definitely yes.

His poor stomach still complaining, even after he'd fallen asleep.

You sigh.

You're upset, but you do understand where his stubborn efforts were coming from. 

His job, since he could remember, had been compromised. His self-claimed ,'soul purpose' ,being taken away from him. Of course he'd do everything in his power to get it back, a.s.a.p.

You just wish he'd also dedicate some time to take better care of himself, along the way.

You make it up the shrine. Kneeling down to put the emerald shards in the pile he'd started and covering it with a net like device you'd brought, that Tails had made. With the push of a button it would act as a cage that would camouflage whatever was underneath it. Along with a defense system that would electrocute anybody that doesn't have a programmed chaos energy reading or DNA signature within a ten yard vicinity on the x, y and z axis, so nobody could get anywhere near it.

You didn't know how to put the M.E. back together and probably couldn't if you did. It was his thing. An echidna thing. So you leave it as it is, and walk down the steps.

You make your way to a small house Knuckles had recently fixed up, after you'd scolded and cared for him after getting sick from staying out when it was snowing, a couple months back. You walk in, bend down a bit to get through the door, and take him to his bed. Well, it was a hammock, but he used it as a bed so, same thing.

You look for his blankets and pillow to set him up with. He always folded and put them away after using them. You guessed to either keep the house tidy, or to keep them as nicely kept as the day you brought them for him. Once that's that, you turn away from him.  Wondering when he'd wake up. And what to do in the meantime.

A groan from behind you brings your attention back to your friend. 

The sleeping echidna turns in his hammock with a grimace, curling into himself and holding his middle, but doesn't wake up.

You sigh.

That's what you'll do, while you wait, then.

It's not for another three hours before he wakes up.

At first, he's confused.

How did he get here?

'Where's the emerald!'

He quickly sits up. Vision spinning from the sudden move. He holds his head for a second, giving it a little shake. 

He looks around and finds you in the kitchen, washing a dish, he guessed you'd probably just used.

His senses finally awaken along with the rest of him. His stomach cramps at the smell of food. A pained noise escaping him. 

You hear his short cry and see him sitting up with an arm gripping his abdomen.

"Well good morning sleeping beauty." 

He frowns. You'd told him about human stories before. Human Princess stories, to be exact. So he understood your tease with little to no amusement. 

You laughed at his expression. 

"Put that face away you grump and come and eat."

His eyes gave away his interest for the food, but he didn't move. 

"Where's the emerald." He asks pointedly.

"Up on the shrine, and don't worry. It's protected."

Now he tries to stand up, but his legs shake under him and give way. He falls to all fours with a gasp, and you hurry over to him. Now slightly rested and fully conscious, his pride was touchy, so you just help him to his feet rather than pick him up again. He grumbles under his breath about being fine,  or something along those lines, but accepts your help nonetheless. 

"It's alright Knux, just sit down. I'll bring it to you."

He shakes his head," No. I need to get to the emerald."

Now it your turn to frown. "Um, no, I don't think so. You're staying here. "

"Oh? And who's gonna stop me? You?" He taunts, but not in an entirely joking manner. 

You glare at him and suddenly release him, for only a second.

"Woah!!"

Surprising him as he fell straight to the ground... almost.

You scruff him at the last second and stand him back up.

"You were saying?"

He turns away, crossing his arms. Glaring and mumbling again about who knows what.

You do pick him up this time, but just to get him back to bed.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anymore rest. I need to get to the emerald."

You look him over for a second."Not a chance."

His eyes widen, looking incredulous.

"Look kid, you can barely stand. Let alone walk over to and go up the stairs to the shrine. And then to use even more energy to put it back together? I don't think so."

He looks away from you. Angered by your argument and his predicament. His fatigued and starved body not helping his crabby attitude. 

"Well, then why can't you take me there? So I can see for myself it's safe, at least?!"

You walk away toward the kitchen again, getting a bowl and spoon.

" Is my word not good enough for you? The emerald is fine. And, no."

His jaw nearly drops, and he glares."So, that's it then! You're just gonna leave me here?! I thought we were friends! Isn't that what they're supposed to do? Help each other when one is in need!?"

You fill up his bowl and grab a glass with water. Bringing it over to him.

"Well, yes, friends help their friends. Especially when they're in need." 

"Well this is a need. A big need. I Need your help to get me to the emerald. Right about now would be preferable."

You sit beside him on a stool and place the water next to him on a little nightstand beside you two. The bowl of soup still in your hands, as you stir to cool it off.

"I thought I already said no?"

"Wha-! What is your deal?! Why not!"

"Why, so you can ignore my wishes and think,'Hey, I'm already here. Might as well put the emerald back together and get this island off the ground!' And then I'd have to pick up your comatose tail back to your hammock and fend off harder thieves like Rouge or Eggman by myself, on a floating island. Oh, yes, have the flightless, glide-less, not as durable as a mobian-human fight the tougher bad guys AND take care of you while you're unconscious."

He growls and crossed his arms again. Then you act like you'd just had an idea.

"Ah, you know what? I have a better idea."

He's about to snark and argue with you again, but you hold the bowl you had right infront of his muzzle. The strong smell of the broth and herbs getting to him, and sending another cramp through his torso. 

You look him in the eyes. A serious frown on your face. 

"Eat. Rest. Get better. Then, you'll be able to take yourself, whenever you want. I won't stop you."

He growls in frustration turning away from the bowl, but his stomach decides for him. A painful groan encouraging him to take the soup. Albeit, with a begrudged look on his face, but at least he's eating.

You walk away to give him space.

"And don't worry so much about the emerald. With the island already down, and you huddled up here, nobody would think to come here. Tails' invention will keep the emerald, along with it's energy signature, hidden. Without the emerald, the island doesn't float. No floating island or guardian, no precious emerald....I'll be at the shrine."

He watches as you leave the house. His earlier attitude fading away. You were right. What better time to recover than when the island looked emerald-less.

He looks down at himself. Cozied up with the blankets and pillows you'd gotten him. And a hot meal he never asked you to make.

His insides turn.

You'd been treating him like a friend since he'd gotten back. Maybe better than a friend. And he'd done nothing but argue and claim otherwise since he'd woken up. After you'd probably been watching over his island the entire time he was gone. Without him asking that of you either.

Thinking ahead, keeping the shards he'd already brought, safe. Keeping his home safe and secure.

And after all that. He just had to push and question your loyalty as a friend. All because he didn't get what he wanted. Even though you'd given him what he sorely needed.

He sighs. Setting his spoon back in the bowl. He was starving. Those couple of spoon fulls doing nothing but taunt his stomach. But after you'd departed, so did his appetite.

He set aside the bowl on the nightstand, beside his water, and tries to get up again. He knew if he didn't apologize now, he'd lose the courage to later.

He slowly stands on shaky legs.

He takes a breath and steadies himself. His feet holding firm enough, he begins a slow trek to the shrine. 

Sure enough, there you are.

He'd just come to the clearing where the altar sat and he could see you at the top of the stairs. Keeping lookout, especially now that all the emeralds pieces were together, you knew they'd need watching out for,  now more than ever.

He looks ahead and makes his way to you.

He doesn't make it very far before you disappear. Only to reappear behind him. Your sudden appearance startling him aback, he almost trips over himself.

He always hated when you did that.

You saw him coming even before reaching the clearing. Even among the lush forest greenery, a bright red echidna can catch your eye instantly. You looked away and fumed for a bit and quickly decided to mess with him. Not only for not resting like you'd told him, but to get a little even for how he acted earlier.

And it worked. 

Knuckles hadn't seen you leave the altar and so missed you coming up behind him.

" What are you doing here?"

You asked, making him nearly jump out of his sneakers. You knew he was a little out of it, but you didn't think it was this bad.

He turns to see you, his mouth opening like he had something to say, but closing again. He repeated this again, but still said nothing.

While amusing, you were still very much upset.

"While I do find your fish impression pretty impressive, once again, I ask, why are you here?"

He looked down towards his feet. A couple bugs scurried about, distracting him for a moment. He knew what he wanted to say. So why couldn't he say it?!

'She's your best friend. You aren't a coward, are you?' He repeats in his mind.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you.

"Look, I just wanted to say.. I'm sorry. I know you were trying to help me, but..I didn't see that. I thought you didn't care about what needed to be done. That you didn't respect me or my job. But you did.. you do. You didn't give me what I wanted, but you did give me what I desperately needed. Even if i couldn't see it and fought you over it, you fought back for my own wellbeing. And..I'm sorry for taking you for granted like that, and for questioning you and acting like a jerk. If anybody wasn't acting like a good friend, it was me."

You stare at him for what felt like an hour to him, then reply with a frown. 

"Knux, I'll always be there for you, whether you like it or not. And as much as I appreciate and accept your apology, you really shouldn't be here. You're still doing exactly the opposite of what you should be doing."

He doesn't understand. Shouldn't his apology have made things better?

"Look at me Knux, forget the emerald for now, it's safe. Forget about me for now, I'm safe, and I'm not mad at you, or going anywhere. You,-" you poke his forehead. He gives an almost cross eyed frown.

"You've done your job for now. You should be resting back in bed. Did you even finish the bowl I gave you?"

He frowns and dry swallows, giving you your answer. You roll your eyes. 

"How many times-."

You pick him up over your shoulder, the same way you'd done earlier, with one arm. And surprisingly, he doesn't seem to mind. His head turns towards you as you spoke.

 "You come first Knux. Before the emerald. Before the island. Without you, the emerald has no guardian." He tries to argue, but you quickly shut him down.

"But I-"

"shush*"

He blinks,"Ah? Did you just shush me-"

"Shhh."

He gave you an annoyed look, but doesn't comment anymore. Just glad you were still friends and you weren't mad at him.

You both get back to the house quicker than if you'd let him walk on his own.

You let him down to get to bed, while you get him a fresh bowl of soup.

He doesn't even bother to put the covers over himself. He just drops himself into his hammock. The hanging bed, swinging him back and forth. His fatigue weighing on him even more, now that he was accepting it.

You come over and hand him the food. With his appetite suddenly returned, he quickly sits up and eats.

After polishing off a couple bowls, he thanks you and hands you his dish after you'd come to take it. Laying down, he just stares at his ceiling. Listening to you moving about in the kitchen and then saying you'll be back, as you go to keep watch again.

He nods, and at the same time, thinking about you. His friend, who would keep a lookout for his island and the emerald. Looking out for him. The nice thoughts helping him to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Just as your out the door, you hear his snoring and smile.

Finally!

[saltcherry]

feel like my boss is lightly gaslighting me about some things but whatever, at least she is responding to my concerns?

[mrthinkerr]

Reading is worth the risk of doing it.

[bogkeep]

to be fair im also from A Monarchy (norway) and sometimes i come across interviews with the teenage princess that are like "so you're going to inherit command of the entire military of this country someday. how do you feel about that" and i stare at a wall for a bit

ok so i think that my favourite fantasy subgenre is The Inherent Tragedy Of Being Born Into Royalty. which mostly means that i like to read about gay princes but with some nuance

[wakkass]

Some time ago I wanted to draw StF characters during high school. I liked thinking about what they would look like at that age so much that a whole AU was born, which I painted.

During adolescence, a lot changes in a person's life: the environment, attitude, appearance and even one’s own self.

It became interesting for me to confront the characters with this, so the main theme of the AU is the first changes and the unknown that follows them.

As you may have noticed, the sisters are drawn in school uniforms. I think that the routine of high school gave a powerful impetus to the development of the characters' problems, because school is almost the main part of any teenager's life. This is a large concentration of stress, and its consequences are reflected in my AU.

Overall, I hope you enjoy reading this. I have divided the information on the characters and will make their profiles in separate posts. Links will be below as these profiles are published.

💜Sofia💜

💚Amber💚

[kiddotarot]

SUN AND YOUR PENDING KARMIC GOALS.

Explanation = sun represents soul and self in the astrology with studying about it placement you can get what karmic goal and achievement you need to work on .

1. Sun in 1H/Aries = Aggression is the main point here it can be because in past life you are forced to develop a free will by involving war or you are forced to survive own your own thats the reson you enjoy the cut trusth competition. Your main goal is becoming aware of the unnecessary fighting spirit and take care of other needs .

2. Sun in Taurus/2H = With this placment you have a word which you use often " mine " . You think that your security and you are right place this can also lead you to not cutting your ties in unhappy marriage or environment because you don't learn that you can do better than this . Your pending karma is to learn to self security and trust yourself and make a strong rooted connection with yourself.

3. Sun in Gemini/3H = With this placment i can say in past life you are a publisher or teaching other thing related to spreading words . But it can also show that you are in gossip in past life you can share facts thst you don't even know is real or not just like a repoter. The duality is biggest problem for you . Your karmic goal is to express yourself cleary and fact check that you are communicating with right way .

4. Sun in cancer/ 4H = I don't be surprised if you get stuck in nostalgia often in a day. You take everyone and every relationship on a emotional level and often think and feel clingy to to the thing and person you feel familiar. Possessiveness can be problems here . Your pending karma is you set a stong connection with yourself and heal to the inner level.

5. Sun in leo/5H = You are the natural entertainers and may be tou don't have to work hard for this but you need a recognition from it and if don't get it then it can lead you to don't give people there importance. Your karmic goal is to use your charm in creativity and develop a positive attitude to gain popularity.

6. Sun in virgo/6H = This placment can lead you tobe a taskmaster but hard on yourself as well as on others. And main things that this can also give you fear of faliur. And it can also lead you to hating yourself on little faliur and mistake. The karmic goal is to love yourself and accept yourself regarless any flaws.

7. Sun in libra/7H = You love a place with harmonious and beautiful environment. You know when the things around you is right and when not. And often you find yourself most of the time putting efforts to make things right for others but in this process you can loose yourself. With your need to be liked it can lead you to fit in other standards. Your karmic goal is to takecare yourself in a relationship and find comfort in yourself.

8. Sun in scorpio/ 8H = with this you have a challenge to master the power . You can find yourself attracting a lot of people with your hidden side and charm . You love over power scenarios but it can also lead you again in karmic connection. Your karmic goal is controing is not an option you soul need to involve and invite the great divine.

9. Sun in sagittarius/9H = This make you a great followers of ethic and law and follow the rule but there is always a side when you feel you are not participating and involving yourself fully into new experiences. You are just taking your personal freedom. Your karmic goal is to understand the real meaning of life and live it don't just stuck in sitting examples.

10. Sun in Capricorn/10H = with this placement you need to understand that success is a state of life and mind its not a race . You need to establish or understand it from inner state outer world is not going to satisfy this need . Your karmic goal is to live with inner security and power first before giving it to other world.

11. Sun in Aquarius/ 11H = you can be always confused in the changing yourself or remain the same. Because your soul crave for changing and for this you have to take your freedom. It can lead you to become detached but it can also lead you to bad thing . Your karmic goal is to leave unhealthy things and become flexible in this matters.

12. Sun in pieces/12H = you can have a feeling to stuck in a victim mentality where you feel that you need to take care of other things or people because you feel that is the same scenarios where you feel victim like them. Your karmic goal is to develop your own lesson and path do not take anyone other to achieve wholeness.

[andromydagalaxy]

Satisfaction

~ NSFW, teacher x student ~ Reader is a senior in high school, bored and unsatisfied, they turn to their calculus teacher for help with more than just math problems.

I've been waiting to publish this one and 7,000 words later, it's finally done. I hope yall like it.

~~~

You slump in your chair, spinning your pencil around your fingers. Your eyes are low and spacing out, mentally thinking about the overindulgence of tongue the boy you were making out with last night had. Another stupid, boring parking lot hook up. Every date to you felt uninteresting and led nowhere or was just sexual but never satisfying. Sex has never felt like how others in your life made it out to be, making you think it would be romantically beautiful, hot and heavy, especially your first time. Nothing, not books, movies, or tv shows, show how awkward and self-conscious you could feel during it. Especially with an inexperienced or sexually incompatible partner.

That is unfortunately the state of your peers. Your mind has become a daydreaming vessel for sexual fantasies, with various unattainable people. Long, drawn out foreplay, with strong hands moving up and down your thighs, lips soft and in sync with a gentle tongue, and consistent hip thrusts. A build up of so much sexual energy, there’s a physical heat radiating from your pussy and an unbearable tingling and pulsing. Someone smart and experienced. Patient and conscious. Dominant and confident.

Your gaze moves to your calculus teacher, solving an equation on the whiteboard. The sunlight from the windows shone onto the curling piece of brown hair falling into his aviator glasses. He had undone a few buttons on his sleeves and rolled them up during your daydreaming. Your cheeks turn red and you bite your lip, your mind wandering back to those images now replacing them with Mr. Schlatt. He’s tall with a beautiful blend of muscle and fat, the perfect dad bod, to match his sarcastic, no-nonsense attitude. You notice the grip his thick fingers have, wrapping around the marker. The way he fully pulls off those mutton chops with the slightly messy look, grown out hair curling and frizzing at the ends, big glasses covered in a few smuggles, and a button-down shirt untucked.

The head of your eraser slips into your mouth and your hips squirms in your seat, observing him so closely. Your body grows warmer, your chest and crotch pulsing at the thought of what it would be like to feel even a slight touch from him. Your gaze moves down to his crotch, hoping for a glimpse.

You wonder how hard it could get. How long it could get? How hard could he go? How long could he go?

~~~

You sigh, finishing the last of your homework. The clock read 11:12 PM, a later night for you as finals are approaching. You stuff the pages into your backpack and run into your bed, phone in hand, ready to wind down.

Now free to do so, your mind wanders to Mr. Schlatt. You’ve spent the past couple weeks growing more attracted to him, daydreaming about him before bed, during school, after school, and especially during his class.

His hands grab your waist, skirt still on, panties pulled down, and shirt fully unbuttoned. His dick perfectly hard inside you, tits swinging above the desk filled with half graded papers. The lights are on, the door is unlocked, and every window is open, begging to be seen.

“Fuck, you’re so big.”

“And you’re taking it so well,” He moans out pulling back your hair. “You’re just so easy.” Your eyelids fell shut and your grip tightened on the edge of the desk, your sweat dripping onto the papers.

You let out a few shallow breaths, feeling your climax hit, and slowing the pace on your clit. A calming wave washed over your body and you soon fell asleep cuddling under your sheets.

~~~

You woke up on time, a rare occurrence, eager for today, to see Mr. Schlatt and wear your little outfit. You grab your plaid, pleated, and pastel pink skirt, slipping it on over your lace white thong. Your top is also white, a skin tight turtleneck with short sleeves, and a knitted pattern. You pull up your white socks with frills around the ankles and shove your pink tennis shoes into your feet. You brush out your hair, leaving it down and wavy and apply some blush, mascara, and lip gloss to your face.

You take a look in your full length mirror and smile. Adorable and cute.

~~~

You spend all of your classes rubbing your thighs together, chewing on your writing utensils, and messing with the collar of your shirt and the hem of your skirt. AP Calculus is last and today is definitely the slowest it’s ever been.

Your mind absorbs nothing.

You finally get to his class and he has the top three buttons of his shirt undone, chest hair poking out, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, and sweat glistening off his forehead. It’s like he’s teasing and tempting you more and more everyday. You feel yourself throbbing against your chair, not taking in a word he is saying.

After the lesson is over, and your peers start packing up their stuff, you sit in your chair and wait for them to leave, before packing your bag and walking up to his desk. You fix your hair and smooth out your skirt.

“Hey, Schlatt?” He looks up from his computer, quickly scanning his eyes over your outfit. You usually come to school stylish, adding some accessories to your outfits, but wearing a skirt is new. “Can we meet after school today, I don’t get this.” You gesture at the board filled with today’s calc problems.

Schlatt furrows his brows, tilting his head at you. “You, hon?” You bite your lip, smirking a bit at the pet name. “You’ve been doing basically perfect on the homework and on tests, what don’t you get?”

He’s staring up at you, the intense gaze from his brown eyes making your gut twist. You’re riding a high you haven’t experienced before, wanting to push the boundaries of your student/teacher relationship. So, you turn around, lifting yourself up on the edge of his desk, skirt riding up your thigh as you sit down, moving your leg up, and shifting your body towards him.

“You know, I just think that,” you trail off, observing Schlatt’s gaze moving down your figure much slower this time, his eyes widening as he stares at your leg covering up the papers scattering around his desk. Your gut twists again. “I just think that I need some personal, one-on-one time with you.”

He clears his throat and readjusts himself in his chair, struggling to find a place to comfortably put his hands. His hesitation to correct your inappropriate behavior and his wandering eyes fills you with confidence. “I’ve just been so distracted lately.” You slowly run a hand up your thigh, seductively moving your fingers towards the hem of your skirt, teasing the idea of showing him what’s underneath.

“Um, yeah, okay.” He goes back to looking at his computer. “I’ve got some time after school, just be back here in like half an hour.” You smile at his words, heart racing in your chest, your plan going swimmingly. “Now get off my desk.”

“Yes, Sir.” You hop off his desk and walk towards the door.

“Y/N.” You stop at the doorway, turning back around to face him. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs spread apart, and twirling a pen between his fingers, a small smirk on his face. “Don’t call me that.” His statement is firm and commanding and his voice is low and suggestive.

You feel your gut clench, your mouth watering, a strange combination of fear, anticipation, and arousal. Your grip on the reins is softening as he’s carefully slipping them out of your hands. He’s teasing you back.

“Sorry, Sir.” You run out the door before he can protest.

~~~

You stare at yourself in the mirror, adding another coat of lip gloss and spraying perfume all over your body. You turn to check the back of your outfit and notice your cheeks peeking out as you bend down a little. How you didn’t get dress coded today is beyond you.

You bite your lip. “Slut,” you mouth to yourself before heading back towards Schlatt’s classroom up the stairs.

“Sit,” he commands right as you open the door, pointing at the rows of empty desks. “And MY desk is not an option.” A blush grows on your face making your way over to the closest desk in the front and pushing it right up against the front of his desk. You plop down and cross your legs, longingly staring at the man in front of you.

“Okay, lemme just summarize the lesson from earlier, again.” He turns to the board, writing down an amalgamation of formulas from today’s lesson that you already understood perfectly. Just like in class, you zone out, thinking about how hairy the rest of his chest is. How big those arm muscles under his shirt really are. How thick his cock is. If he’s rough or more gentle.

“Any questions so far?” Schlatt turns back around towards you. Being brought back into reality, you clear your throat and sit up in your chair.

“Sorry, I got distracted. Can you go through it again?” He rolls his eyes and erases the board, writing a brand new problem.

“Here.” He holds the marker in your direction. “Try this problem.”

You get up from your chair, pulling your skirt up higher around your waist. You take the marker from his hand and start solving. This problem is easy, you know the steps, but you need to keep playing dumb. Your tummy turns as you carelessly write down a mistake you knew would get him frustrated. On beat, you hear his sigh.

“Wait.” Schlatt walks up behind you and grabs the marker from your hand. You stay in your spot, and just like you’ve envisioned, he puts his hand on your back trying to move your body away from the board. That’s when you take the opportunity and rub your ass slightly against the front of his pants while you move with the motion of his hand.

His breath hitches.

You swear you feel a small bump graze your skirt. Staring up at him towering over you, you watch the redness growing on his cheeks. You study all the beautiful imperfections on his face, while he avoids your gaze, focusing on fixing your careless mistake. When he finishes, he glances down at you, his groin growing warmer seeing you bite your lip with red cheeks, a cute face, and sparkling eyes staring at him.

“So, do you need me to explain what you did wrong here or did you figure it out?” His voice drips with sarcasm. He taps the end of the marker on your nose. Your heart races not knowing how to gracefully get to where you want with him. But maybe that’s the issue; doing it gracefully. You aren’t graceful and neither is this situation.

Mr. Schlatt definitely isn’t graceful either.

“I understand this.” You don’t even acknowledge the board, keeping your eyes locked with his. “There’s another problem I’m having trouble solving though.” Schlatt stares back at you, his cheeks are still red as his cock twitches.

“Oh, yeah?” His attention is fully on you. “What’s that?” You move your body closer to his, trying to smell his scent and gauge the reciprocation.

“I’ve been so distracted.” Your voice is unwavering and seductive like you’d practiced in your daydreams. You test the waters more and run your fingers across the hairs on his exposed forearm.

“I’ve noticed.” He crosses his arms, pulling them away from your fingers, but he keeps the rest of his body close. “You always look so flustered when I check on you during class, what’s distracting you?”

He’s engaging with you. He’s noticing more than you think. He checks on you. Of course, he probably does this with all of his students. But, he looks closely enough to know you’re flustered.

“What?” He hums, leaning his shoulder against the board. “You’ve been acting so.” He looks you up and down. “Bold today, you can’t share your little problem with me?”

“It doesn’t feel little,” you whisper out, hands fidgeting behind your back. There’s a genuine feeling of coyness wrapping itself up in your plan to tease the situation before dropping the bomb. Like the timer is ticking and the longer it goes the more anxious and hesitant you get.

“I used to be a teenager too, I think I can understand.”

You gulp.

“I guess it’s just… hormones, making me think about boys and–” You hesitate again, you can’t even bring yourself to say the stupid word. All day and night you’ve been spending thinking about him on top of you, grabbing you, undressing you, calling you his beautiful girl and also his dirty whore, letting him use your mouth under his desk, teasing you until you’re crying and begging for him to fuck you. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to say–

“Sex?” Schlatt is smiling, arms still crossed and leaning against the board. You feel your face warm up and you avoid his eyes, like if you stare too long you’d get on your knees and start begging. “You think I don’t understand that, Sweetheart?” Fuck, that pet name makes you throb. “I’ve never really thought too much about boys, but I still think about sex.”

“Oh my god, but it's like always on my mind,” You whine, crossing your arms and squeezing your thighs together. In the corner of your eye, you notice Schlatt staring down, observing the way your legs just moved.

“You learn how to control it better as you get older.”

“But, I just can’t stop thinking about this person.”

“Aww, you got a crush?” You nod your head.

“Yeah, um.” You move your gaze back to him. “He’s tall and really smart. I love listening to him explain things to me.” The blood is pumping in your ears. “He’s always a little messy when I see him in class, but in like the hottest way.” You’re wondering if he knows who you’re hinting at already or if he’s mentally running through the list of senior boys in AP Calculus, which isn’t very long. “But, he’s a little older and I feel like I can’t even tell him.” You pause and bare your eyes into his soul. “Or I might get in trouble.” He raises his brow, peering back behind him at the door and the small windows looking into the classroom. “All I want is his attention and…affection.” Schlatt’s pretty eyes turn back to you. “But I don’t know if he’d risk that with me.”

You feel your eyes watering, not because you’re sad or feeling any particularly negative emotion. Maybe some of it is the stress you’re experiencing about the current situation, but mostly it feels like tension. The sexual tension that’s been building up in your body and brain for weeks, the indescribable pull and high you’ve been getting around him. It feels like you’ve never had sex in your life and if this doesn’t happen how you’ve dreamed, you’re gonna shrivel up and never feel this good again.

“Okay, Hon.” He rubs his hands up and down your biceps. “You wanna tell me?” His touch is electric and warm. “We’ll keep it our little secret.” His touch is sucking up your tears and disolving the weeks of tension. “I’m your cool, chill teacher, you’re not getting in trouble.” You want more of his big, soft hands on you. So you trust him.

“All I can think about is you.” He slows the pace of his hands. “You look so hot in your button-down shirts and your messy hair and your glasses.” He stops, gently squeezing your biceps in his hands. He could easily physically do what he wants with you. You move your eyes down to his crotch. “I wanna see how big it is.”

“Y/N.” Oh shit, he’s reacting more surprised than you thought he would. He moves his hands away from you. “Jesus, your behavior lately makes more sense.” He sounds stern, like he’s about to scold you, exactly what you were worried about.

“Mr. Schlatt, I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes begin to water again, now feeling rejection. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Schlatt stares, your eyes glossy and cheeks flushing behind the strands of chestnut brown hair falling into your face. Your nipples are hard through your little turtleneck top and that skirt hugs your waist perfectly. He feels his dick twitching. This is not the physical response he wants to be having.

He knows he needs to back away, tell you how inappropriate this is and make you leave. But you’re so beautiful and seeing you cry because you need his touch this bad is bricking him up and stroking his ego. He’s been stressed out with finals coming up, so much work to grade, and no time to go out with someone. He barely gets any moments to relieve himself or is too tired to do it when he gets home, instead just getting uncontrollably hard in the middle of his lessons.

You’ve noticed that.

“Fuck, you’re so pent up and frustrated.” Schlatt walks towards the door and turns the lock on the knob. He pulls the string down on the blind, covering the small window on the door.

“Leave it open.” Your voice cracks a bit, tears drying up and your confidence filling you up again. He raises his eyebrows at your suggestion, tilting his head in disbelief. From tears straight back to teasing. Your heart speeds up as he walks towards you, slowing his steps the closer he gets, like he’s still mentally battling his urges with his morals. He finally reaches where your standing, waiting patiently, and stops right in front of you, tilting your chin up with his finger and pulling you in closer.

“You trying to get me fired, Toots?” A smile grows on your face. “What, you want people to see you teasing me? Is that what you’ve been thinking so much about?”

You grab his wrist and move his hand, molding it around your throat. “Just one thing I’ve been daydreaming about.”

He lets out a breath, squeezing the tips of his finger putting pressure into the sides of your neck. “You’ve thought about this too, huh?” You nod. He tightens his grip as you struggle for air, leaning down to your level. The smell of whiskey on his hot breath floods your nose.

“You gotta promise me you wouldn’t tell anyone about this.” There is definitely alcohol on his breath and you know it’s recent. Did he have it in his drawers? Was he drinking before you came in? “I’m just helping you fix your problem. That’s my job as your teacher, ya?”

“Yes, Sir,” you choke out.

“Fuck.” Schlatt removes his hand from around your neck, wrapping his arms around your body, cupping the small of your back and pulling you in, meeting his lips to yours. Electric waves run through your body at his touch, his facial hair rubbing against your face. He kisses you deeply, holding your body up to his, his lips moving gracefully with yours. Your lips part a bit and your body relaxes into his arms, letting him hold you up with his strength. He pulls away looking down at you. His mouth agape and pupils blown wide, like he wants to eat you. He moves his hands, gripping your little waist, savouring the sight of you. His grip feels almost too tight, making you realize how much stronger he is that you and how big his body is compared to yours.

Without warning, he lifts you up, an arm around your waist and a hand gripping your ass, gently setting you down on the edge of his desk.

“I thought you said your desk wasn’t an option,” you tease. He grabs your face pulling you back in for more affection. His lips feel so nice against yours, passionate and full. Your arms wrapping around his neck while he moves his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up as you feel your underwear meet the hard on in his pants. You pull away from his lips, gasping for air.

“I’ll make an exception for my prettiest student.” Schlatt rubs you against him crotch in a nice, slow up and down motion. You feel your groin heating up and your breathing increase. His lips meet your neck lightly kissing and biting all over, keeping his grip on your thighs still controlling your movements against him. Your moans are sweet and dripping all over the desk, traveling slowly across the floor.

“Sir.” It slips out without a thought. You feel his dick twitch and grow in his pants, his movements slipping

“God, I told you not to call me that,” He breathes out, despite growing harder at your words. Your gaze meets his, your noses grazing each other, your arms holding onto his shoulders. Your tongue pokes out wetting your bottom lip and nibbling on it. Schlatt groans. The way you’re blushing and looking up at him with alluring eyes is getting him so hot.

He lays your body down on his desk, grabbing the graded papers and homework and stuffing them into the drawers.

“How’d I do on that last test?” Schlatt puts his hands back on your waist, pulling you down on his groin again. His face is beat red and glistening.

“Like you always do,” He runs his hand under your shirt, finger tips grazing against your skin, sending chills down your spine. “Perfectly.” He leans in, kissing your lips. He’s so good at that, no overflow of spit or overwhelming pressure that feels cartoonish. “It’s funny though,” Schlatt breathes out, pulling away again. You feel yourself getting antsy, craving a slow build up, but your body is used to the immediate gratification. “You’re my best student, Kid.” His hands are back on your waist and the heat in your body grows with his praise. “And yet, you’re here, on top of my desk.” He tucks some hair behind your ear, leaning into your ear. “Making me so hard.”

Tingles run down your head and neck, your arms tightening their grip around his neck, legs pulling him closer, silk clothed pussy rubbing against the hard on in his trousers. His fingers play with the small zipper on the side of your skirt while he pulls you back in for more kisses. Your blood is rushing like never before, you swear you can feel your hormones vibrating, you already feel so desperate for him. You’d do anything for him to just fill you up. Schlatt runs the tip of his tongue against your lips, opening you up, and playing a little inside your mouth, his fingers still messing with your zipper. You desperately moan, holding onto him for dear life. He pulls his mouth away.

“Your outfit is so cute.” Both of his hands move your little skirt up your waist more, exposing your underwear. “Wish this was your uniform so I could see you in it every day.” He glides his hand over the top of your thighs and back down the sides, stuffing each pointer finger into the sides of your panties and twisting. “Except without these.” He pulls them down slowly, a little trail of your wetness connecting your underwear and your hole. You felt the classroom air hit your dripping pussy.

Schlatt's eyes widen and his breath hitches seeing how wet you already are. How wet he’s got you. His dick is begging to be buried inside you already, wanting to know what you feel like; how ribbed you are, how tight you are, how much you’re going to stretch around him. But more than that, he needs a tast.

He turns your body towards the board and grabs his desk chair, wheeling it over for him to sit back down in, as you hold yourself up by your elbows to observe him. He adjusts his glasses and pulls the sleeves of his shirt up more. He looks so distinguished.

“Please, Schlatt.” Your whines are so cute to him, only making him want to tease you longer and withhold the thing you both really want.

“Calm down, Toots. I got you.” He runs the very tip of his thumb across your clit. Your brows furrow and your mouth falls open, letting out short breaths. He smirks, moving his thumb away. Your whines continue, your hips now squirming around desperately. He chuckles at you, grabbing your hips, and holding you down. “Tell me what’s been happening in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Schlatt–”

“You want more?” His tone drops, his expression is serious. “Tell me what you’ve been fantasizing about.”

You groan, trying to gather the many different thoughts you’ve been having about him.

“I think about your mouth on my pussy, holding my hips down, and rubbing your beard hair on me.” He moves a hand off your hip and lightly grazes his thumb over your clit again. You whimper at his touch. “I think about your fingers inside me.” He hums, moving his thumb lower, tracing it down like a snail across your vulva. “I think about sucking you off under your desk while you're working.” He moans, dipping the tip of his thumb into your wet opening. You open your legs, needing more. “I–I think about your cock pounding into me. While you're pulling my hair.” You groan. feeling him move his thumb in circles around your hole, teasing around the folds of your skin. “And calling me a pretty girl and a dirty little whore.” His eyes meet yours, softly staring up at you. He smiles, leaning his head against your leg, clearly pleased with how he’s got you wrapped around his fat finger. “Teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.”

Schlatt stops his movements, pulling his thumb away and holding both of your thighs. He leans down in his chair, moving his lips just above your vulva. With his eyes still on you, he spits on your pussy. You gasp, clit throbbing at his mess. He brings his mouth down to you, tracking his tongue up your vulva and flicking at your clit. You squirm at the contact.

He starts licking at your head, swirling his tongue around, mixing his spit and your wetness together. He’s getting into it, flicking his tongue against your clit, with his eyes low, and his hand squeezing your thighs. You feel yourself sweating, your blood rushing, your pussy throbbing, and an endless stream of noises escaping past your lips. You’re trying not to squirm, mostly because he keeps tightening his grip every time you do, but it feels too good, you just need to grab something to hold you steady. You notice his hair.

Your fingers slip through his thick curls, gently grabbing and tugging. His hair feels soft and a bit oily at the scale. You test your decision even more, guiding his head up and down. He slows his tongue movements letting you move him how you please. Just for a few strokes, letting you feel in control. You lean you head back, continuing to move him like you do your fingers when you’re alone touching yourself. He bites your clit.

“Schlatt!” You tug on his hair, trying to pull him off.

He moves off your pussy, standing up to turn your body to the side. You feel a sharp sting swiftly meeting your ass, punishing you for trying to take control. You whine out, pouting at the burn but enjoying his dominance.

He lays you back down on the desk, raising his eyebrows at you, letting the message sink in that you are not the one in control here. That he’s going to stay at the slow pace he’s set for you. That you wouldn’t get to cum until you’re crying for it, like you fantasized about. That you asked for this and you’re going to like it however he gives it to you.

He sits back down and goes back to stimulating your clit with his mouth. His pace is consistent, the pressure feels so good, you’re back to moaning and squirming again. He sticks his tongue out more while moving his face against your legs, tickling your thighs with his mutton chops. Your clit is throbbing, with no sign of release. His hands move up your body, slipping under your tight top and cupping your breasts. He groans into your pussy, slowing his tongue down and focusing on massaging your tits with his big, strong hands. They fit so perfectly, covering your nipple with his palm and his finger wrapping deliciously around your tits, engulfing them. The warmth of his hands feels so nice on your chest, but you wish he would continue flicking his tongue rapidly, why did he slow down?

“Mr. Schlatt?” You whimper out. He hums, still staring at your tits in his hands. “Please, c-can I have more?” He lifts his head off you, a cold draft hitting your wet skin, his hand fiddling with his belt buckle. The sun is kissing the hairs on his arms, as he drops his pants, exposing his navy blue boxers hugging his hard cock. He’s big, the head almost poking out of the leg hole.

Your drooling for it, your clit is aching and without a second thought you move your hand down your body, wanting to relieve the tension.

Schlatt grabs your wrist and pins it down above your head. “Don’t you even fucking try.” His face is right above yours, glistening with sweat. His curls frizzy and his glass falling off the bridge of his nose. “You said you wanted me to tease you, I’m doing that for you. Spoiled fucking brat.”

You had never experienced anyone this dominant or stuck with it so well. Keeping the character and the foreplay going, not just giving in when you do. He’s actually listened to you.

“You’re such a little slut.” He grabs your throat. “Bet you already want my cock buried inside you.” You let out a pathetic little whimper, squeezing your empty pussy. You feel his grip tighten on your airways. “Do you? Answer me.” You nod your head. Schlatt chuckles at your desperation, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Well, you’re not getting it until you show me how much of it you can take down your throat.”

He moves his hands under your thighs, pulling you off the desk and onto your feet. You feel lightheaded, trying to stabilize yourself against his body.

“Get on your knees.” And like an obedient puppy, you do as he says getting on the floor. You're inches away from his bulge and you can see every vein and curve of it through his skin tight underwear, it’s so surreal and intimidating. Not the first dick you’ve seen but definitely the thickest. “Don’t just stare, take it out, Sweetheart.” You grab his waistband and pull them down, his member popping out and tapping the side of your face. His cock is a nice, long length, not too long to make you worthy about it hurting, but so girthy it might be thicker than your dildos. His veins looked so sexy and his balls hang so perfectly.

You look up at Schlatt looking down at you, waiting for you to touch him. You stare into his eyes, while grabbing the base of his cock, your whole hand wrapping around it. You slowly start pumping and put his tip on your lips gently sucking and wetting his head. He groans out, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ears and placing his hands on your head. The taste of his precum on your tongue motivates you. You speed up a bit, bobbing your head up and down his thick length in sync with your hand while swirling your tongue around his head. Saliva builds up in your mouth, lubbing him up making it easier to stroke his throbbing dick. You pull off to get a breath and spit the excess drool on his shaft.

“Fuck,” Schlatt moans out, threading his finger through your hair and tugging. You let out a tiny squeal, putting him back in your mouth and getting back into your rhythm. The drool drips down your chin and onto your shirt, the wetness and mess making your exposed pussy even more curious. You resist the temptation to reach down and touch yourself while you're getting him off. You know even if you try to be sneaky he’d probably notice and make you wait longer. His dick twitches as you move your mouth and hand faster.

“Baby, look up at me.” You move your gaze up to him, he’s breathing heavily, eyes full of lust. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, I want your eyes on mine.” God, this man is so hot. Your calculus teacher is so fucking hot. You remove your hand, placing them both in your lap, and opening your mouth wider to prepare for him, not looking away for a second. He moans at your submission, pulling your head down on his length and back up, starting off slow and steady. You relax your throat preparing for his full member.

That’s when the sound of a door and footsteps outside the hall startles you both. Schlatt’s eyes grow wide, lookingaway from you and out the windows into the hallways.

“Get under the desk!” He whispers, moving his hands off your hair and pushing you under. You crawl on your knees under the desk, as he pulls his pants and boxers up to his knees and sits his bare ass in his chair. He pushes himself in until his crotch is hidden under his desk. You're both breathing heavily. Your body is cramped into the very back of his desk in between his legs, his cock still right in front of your face, rock hard.

You take this moment away from his vision to feel yourself. Your vulva is covered in your wetness, you take the bit of it and lick it off your finger. You don’t know who is there, but it’s making you hornier. All you want is this dick back inside you, so you put it back in your warm mouth. If someone saw, you didn't care, you kind of want the world to know you’re a willing slut for your teacher. You want them to assume you're trying to get a better grade or extra credit, just so you don’t have to do the work. But really you’re his star student, just trying to satisfy your insatiable arousal.

“Y/N.” You ignore his stern voice continuing to bob your head up and down his shaft moving your hands behind your back. “Y/N!” You don’t stop. You don’t listen. “God, you wanna get caught don’t you?” He grabs your hair and mercilessly moves you up and down his dick like a fleshlight. “You dirty whore, can’t even wait one minute.” You’re gagging and drooling all over him, trying to focus on breathing through your nose, his head hitting the back of your throat with no room for air. It’s feels like when he’s choking you, but you also feel so nice and full. Even the pain feels so good.

You don’t know where that person is or who thay are. If they're still outside the hallway or if they went downstairs, but it doesn't matter, because the sound of you choking and his low groans and the full feeling and taste of his dick is all you care about.

“Your history teacher just walked right past us.” You moan, still trying to handle him abusing your mouth. “Bet you would've loved for him to see you on your knees choking on my dick.” You feel lightheaded, his pace not letting up, your body low on air. But it’s all turning you on so much. His voice, his words, his hand pulling your hair, his throbbing cock filling your mouth. After what feels like forever, he pulls you off. You cough out all the wetness and take a big, deep breathe in, but before you can recover he’s pulling you up by your hair out from under the desk.

He stands up with you, pushing you forward and bending you over his desk, his hand smashing your face down into the desk, you feel his other hand pull up your skirt and push a finger inside your dripping hole.

“Unhhh!” You moan out, careless and loud, not caring whose around clearly. Your eyes flutter close. He moves his finger in and out of you, your hole gripping around it desperately. The sounds of your wetness and your moans and whimpers fill the classroom splashing outside the cracks of the door and windows into the hallway.

“Gotta fuck you soon, don’t want another one of your teachers to see.” He slides another finger in, curling them so nicely around your tight hole. “Even though I know you’d love that.” He continues massaging inside of you, feeling all the ridges and bumps in your pussy, exploring every corner of your insides, cherishing the little time he has with them.

“Shit, you’re gonna feel so tight. Already, so wet for me.” He pulls his fingers out and you feel the head of his cock sitting right at your entrance. He grabs a handful of your hair, turning your head to face. “You gonna take it like a good girl?” You look back at him and bite your lip.

“Yes, Daddy.” His face scrunches up in pleasure, not expecting that word to come out of your mouth. He pushes himself in, his thick, long cock stretching you and filling you up inch by inch, each one feels better than the last. You bury your face in your arm pushing your ass back into his member wanting to take all of him in, he feels so thick and warm. He’s filling you up just right.

His dick throbs inside you as he moves your hips. Your drunk on his cock, thinking about how many times you’ve played this exact interaction in your head. Your mind couldn’t even comprehend how good this would actually feel. Your moaning out at every thrust, loving the way his balls slap against your clit and his length stretches you out. You could stay like this forever, getting pounded into, your pussy gripping his cock so good, even when he pulls out almost all the way she’s not letting him fall out. Your tits are swinging with each thrust and you see a drop of sweat drip onto your classmates homework. God, this is even hotter than your mind came up with.

He pulls you out of your thoughts, moving your body. He stands you up, your back against his chest. He moves your left leg, setting it up on his desk, opening you up more. He holds you close to him, wrapping an arm around you to hold you steady against him while the other hand moves to your clit. He continues fucking into you, slowing his pace and letting you feel and admire every inch of his length, while rubbing circles into your clit.

“Only the prettiest and smartest girls get to cum on their teacher’s cock.”

The new position fills you in such a good way. Your hole opens up more for him yet he feels so much thicker, everything is tighter. You're loudly whining and moaning, feeling the waves of pleasure get higher and higher. You’re getting close. You know that feeling.

“Schlatt, Schlatt!” You cry out, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop!” He keeps the pace of his cock the same but rubs your clit faster and faster.

“That’s it, cum for Daddy. Cum all over your teacher’s cock.” You take a deep breath, chancing the high, focusing on the sensations in your body and his hands all over you, not letting your orgasm get away. You feel the peak, your muscles squeezing and your body jolting against Schlatt. “That’s it, that’s it.” You let out a breath, and feel the tension leaving, your muscles unclenching, and body go limp. Your legs go numb, as Schlatt pulls you closer, preventing you from falling out of his grip. “Good girl, fuck. Let’s sit down.” Your ears start ringing and you feel yourself fully relax, letting the orgasm cleanse all the stress from your body and brain, as Schlatt sits in his chair and pulls your limp body down into his lap.

He puts your head on his shoulder and scoops you up like a baby, comforting you through the high, playing with your hair and gently rubbing your thigh.

You slowly return to your senses, noticing how quiet the room has gotten, you and your teacher snuggling up together half naked, both wondering what just happened and how things are going to feel after this.

“Hey, Kid?” Schlatt hums out.

“Yeah?” Your voice croaks out.

“You gotta get going, I really don’t want us getting in trouble.” You feel your heart sink, not wanting to leave. A weird part of you hoping he’d let you stay or even less likely, invite you over. God, you aren’t just sexually attracted to him.

You sigh, leaving the warmth of his body to put your panties back on and fix your appearence. You point to his semi-hard dick.

“Do you want me to finish yo–”

“No, no, go home. I got it.” You nod your head, walking toward the door, opening the blind, and slowly undoing the lock. You walk out into the hallway and after you close the door behind you, you take one last look back and see Mr. Schlatt pull out a bottle of whiskey and take a big swig.

[edamette]

Analyzing König's presonality

Original post made in TikTok by shikided, published here with their permission.

Let’s start with the fact that König is not shy or self-conscious.

Social anxiety in his case is expressed rather by aggression towards others. Aggression is his defense mechanism (it is different for all people, for some may be a smile, for example).

He can treat people coldly, as well as rudely, out of a subconscious fear of getting into an awkward situation, of being in a vulnerable position. Of course, he is unlikely to like being in a crowd, but this does not mean that he will start to panic and blush, after all, he is a disciplined soldier.

However, König is active and restless, as evidenced by the fact that he was not accepted as a sniper not only because of his height, but also because of his inability to stay in place for a long time. (This is suits his stormy temper)

His expressiveness is especially noticeable in the way he speaks, and Jim Boeven conveys this perfectly. Just compare the original voice acting by Konig and, for example, the Russian one. In Russian, his voice is much calmer and more direct, more balanced, which is out of character.

König is impudent, proud, sharp-tongued. “Pick your guts off the floor” or “and they said that I couldn’t be a sniper” – he’s literally spitting bile, and this still hurts him, as a consequence of the fact that he’s trying to look like a sniper, making himself a mask with his own hands. This desire meant a lot to him, and this is to some extent his personal protest. König did not fully accept the refusal, did not resign himself.

König is brave, even somewhat passionate, not afraid to rush straight into the heat: “get me back into the fight”, “I’m ready for another round”, “don’t worry, leave the heavy lifting to me”.

However, he understands the advantage his height and build give him and uses it. Moreover, he knows how good he is on the battlefield, and does not hesitate to say about it: “finally, some worthy adversaries”, “they are no match for me”. These phrases reveal a need for personal self-affirmation due to his childhood bullying and humiliation. König compensates for the lack of recognition with arrogance and pride, as even his name (King in German) suggests.

This, like his defense mechanism, can cause a disdainful attitude towards other soldiers: “who taught you to shoot?”, “not bad, I’ve seen better”, “let’s be honest, it’s better off in my hands”, “hands off, it’s mine”, curses are also present.

Some fans for some reason see him as a big child, few others as a brutal killer.

König is a fighting unit, a man trained to kill, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’ll kill you for some little thing. He can, of course, but he won’t. König is a hostage rescue specialist, His task is not only to eliminate, but also to save.

Pay attention to his pose in the menu. König does not look shy and cute. On the contrary, his movements are calm, even relaxed, he demonstrates confidence and strength. He raises his hand and points at the player, as if to say “Pikachu, I choose you”, or “we’re gonna make this day”

His phrases sound friendly towards us, like “together we should be victorious”, or “you can be in my team any day” and even “with you until the end”

He seems to be encouraging his comrade, with whom he is now leading a mission. König is closed and cold, but loyal and kind towards his people. Due to his character, I doubt that he has many people whom he truly values, such a person will be very attentive and selective towards those who surround him, therefore he seems to me be a loyal and reliable friend to those whom he truly considers them his loved ones.

Summary: König is an interesting character with a psychological point of view, with his own bee in his bonnet.

Closed, arrogant, cocky, loyal, devoted.

[trans-axolotl]

ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.  

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. 

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. 

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!" 

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence. 

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized. 

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us. 

Max Beck, 1997.

[maggiegrace]

Nach drei langen Jahren der Liebe, des Kummers und der Heilung habe ich den Seiten mein ganzes Herz gewidmet. Dieser Gedichtband ist vollständig und kann mit anderen geteilt werden. Von meinem Herzen zu Deinem, viel Spaß.💜🐝📖

Ich danke Ihnen für Ihre Hilfe

Sie können es hier finden

[transmutationisms]

how do i know what’s right?

i feel like i have zero critical thinking skills ;-;

a lot of the time when someone poses an idea or a theory they think they’re right, and so they use language that enforces that. but then someone refutes it, and uses language affirming what they believe and i see the point in their argument. and then it gets refuted again and again and again and im just confused.

hi great question. i would love it if there were a single easy litmus test to figure out who's 'right' and whose info i should trust! unfortunately things are rarely this easy, and it's actually completely normal to be overwhelmed by the amount of information being produced and shared, especially when it comes to topics you haven't researched/lived/etc. for most of us, this will be most topics!

i'd preface this by saying that i think your overall attitude here is actually a good one. you're framing it in a pretty self-deprecating way—but actually, imo this type of openness to discussion and disagreement is a really good place to start, esp when dealing with topics that are new to you. nobody enters a contentious debate with a fully fledged, defensible viewpoint. you might feel like you're just treading water here, making no progress toward being able to evaluate arguments for yourself, but i highly doubt that's true.

all of that said: while i again cannot give you a single litmus test for figuring out what's 'right', there are four pretty basic sets of questions that i automatically run through when encountering a new idea, source, topic, or argument: we can call these origin, purpose, value, and limitations.

origin: who's the author? do they have any institutional affiliations? who pays their salary? is this argument or paper funded in any way? is the argument dependent upon the author's social position or status (race, class, etc) and if so, are those factors being discussed clearly? does the author have ties to a particular nation-state or stakes in defending such a nation-state? what's the class character of the author and the argument? what's the social, economic, and intellectual context that gave rise to this argument or source?

purpose: why is this source or person disseminating this information or making this argument? are they trying to sell you anything? are their funders? are they trying to persuade you of a particular political viewpoint? keeping in mind the answers to the 'origin' questions, are there particular ideological positions you would expect to find in this source or argument, and are they present? what are the stakes for the author or source? what about for those who cite the source or further disseminate or publish it?

value: what does this source or argument accomplish well? what aspects of the argument are new to you and strike you as insightful? are there linkages being made that you haven't encountered elsewhere, and that you think are effectively and sufficiently defended? are there statistics or empirical data that might be useful to you in forming your own argument, even if you disagree with how this source or author is interpreting them? what does this argument or source tell you about the types of debates being had, and the rules of those debates?

limitations: where does this argument or source fail you or fall apart? are there obvious rhetorical fallacies you can identify? is the author forgetting or overlooking some piece of information that you know of from elsewhere? which viewpoints may be omitted? keeping in mind the answers to the 'purpose' questions, if this source is defending a particular ideology or political position, is that one you agree with? is it only defensible so long as the author omits or distorts certain pieces of information? are there points where the argument jumps from evidence to a conclusion that the evidence can't fully support? are there alternative explanations for the evidence?

over time you will often find that it becomes more and more automatic to ask yourself these questions. you will also find that the more you read/hear about a particular topic, the faster you can determine whether someone is presenting all of the evidence, presenting it fairly, and using it to fully defend the argument they ultimately want to make. and you will probably also find that at some point, you're able to synthesise your own argument by pulling the strong parts from multiple other people's viewpoints, combining them with your own thinking, and fitting them together in a way that adequately explains and materially analyses the issue at hand.

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Two

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog

Soldat Masterlist

People always say that losing someone is never easy, especially someone that you looked up to and respected. Nick Fury was gone, not surviving the three gunshot wounds to his chest, and all I could think about was the shooter; the man responsible. 

The muffled voices of Nat, Steve, and Maria Hill were a mere annoying pest in my ear as I burned holes into the ground of the hospital hallway. 

54, 55, 56. 

“Y/N!” 

Snapping my head in the direction of Natasha’s voice, I stopped counting the tiny squares in the floor and let out a deep breath. 

“Did you say something?” I questioned. 

“You haven’t said one word since you guys arrived an hour ago,” Nat pointed out with a creased brow. 

“I’m grieving, Nat.” I shrugged. 

Steve shook his head before stepping closer to me. “You’ve been distant since we chased the shooter.” 

“Jesus, can you just give me a damn minute!” I snapped while pushing myself off from the wall. “I just watched my friend get shot and die right in front of me so sue me if I’m not my chatty self!” 

Running a stressed hand through my hair, I turned on my heel to leave however felt a tight grip on my elbow. My eyes glanced at Steve's worried ones and I felt my attitude lighten. 

“Y/N, what’s going on? You froze on that roof and almost got yourself killed.” Steve spoke softly, so the others wouldn’t hear. 

“Steve, please drop it,” I begged while clasping my shaking hands together. 

His soft mouth opened to speak but shut it when a voice stopped him. 

“Cap, you’re wanted at Shield Headquarters.” 

We both looked over to Rumlow and Steve nodded. “I’ll be a minute.” 

“Now,” Rumlow demanded. 

“I’m having a private conversation.” Steve nodded towards me. 

“They want Y/N too.” Rumlow announced. 

I squinted as I tried to read his body language, my specialty, but when I couldn’t get a good read all I did was nod before looking at Steve. 

“Don’t want to keep the boss waiting,” I joked, speaking of Alexander Pierce, and walked past Rumlow with Steve trailing close behind. 

Feet scurried as I sat in the uncomfortable chair outside of Pierce's office waiting for Steve. There was an unreadable, thick, tension the second we stepped through the door of headquarters and we were worried what exactly was going to happen. My mind tried to think of what Pierce could want with Steve and I, however, all I could think about was the man from the roof. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, covering them with my hands hoping that would keep the past memories from playing in front of me like I was sitting in a movie theater. It has been almost three years since those thoughts have haunted me, giving me nightmares, so I would be damned if that happened again. It was the worst 5 months of my life. I couldn’t go back to that. I wouldn’t. 

“Time to go.”

Steve, not too gently, pulled me from my chair as he exited Pierce’s office and dragged me down the long hallway. 

“But I haven’t talked to him yet.” I tried to turn back towards the office but he continued to pull me down the hallway. 

“Trust me, you shouldn’t say one more word to him. We need to leave.” Steve demanded. 

“Wait, Steve. Slow down.” I intertwined our fingers and gave a gentle tug of his hand. “What happened?”

Steve came to a halt before looking into my eyes with a sigh. “They think I killed Nick.” 

My mouth dropped while I shook my head. “You didn’t! I was with you when it happened!” 

“Pierce doesn’t care. They’re just trying to find anyone to blame, which is why we need to get out of here.” 

We started walking again and as we turned the corner, Steve’s shoulders straightened and his face became hard as we walked past a familiar one. 

“Captain,” the blonde started. 

“Neighbor,” Steve snapped, fingers still intertwined with mine. 

I ignored the way my heart fell to my stomach when Steve dropped our hands as we stepped onto the elevator. As we waited for it to descend, I studied his back as it tensed under his suit while he stared outside. Steve was carrying so much guilt on his shoulders for what happened to Nick, I could practically see the words my fault sitting on his shoulders. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” I spoke softly. 

He nodded. “It wasn’t yours either.” 

We smiled at each other before the elevator doors opened with a ding, Rumlow and two other men from the Strike Team stepping inside. Sliding into the corner of the elevator, Steve remained in his spot; the middle. 

“Cap, I just got word that forensics got a fiber from the roof where the shooter was. Want me to get the tac team ready?” Rumlow suggested. 

Steve shook his head. “No, let’s wait to see what they find.” 

Rumlow gave him a curt nod before silently having a conversation with one of the men he stepped on with. I studied the way his lips barely moved, almost knowing that I would be watching. The other man had his hand close to his holsted guns; not directly on them but close in case he needed to use them. Biting my lip, I remained calm as the doors opened again, more men from The Strike team stepping inside followed by a few more men dressed in business suits, one of them clutching a briefcase close to him. 

Steve looked around himself, studying intently the way one guy couldn’t help but sweat in the cool elevator, and suddenly pulled me closer to him, his lips grazing my ear. 

“You have your knives right?”

Ignoring how much I loved feeling his breath on the back of my neck, I gave him a slight nod. 

“Good, get ready to use them.” 

Steve looked into my eyes and I gave him another nod, understanding what was about to happen. 

“Before we get started, does anyone want to get off?” Steve questioned the group of men. 

An eerie silence flooded the elevator before all hell broke loose. Bringing my elbow back into the man’s stomach behind me, I sent my heeled boot into the man’s face in front of me. Arm’s wrapped around my stomach and threw me into the glass windows of the elevator. Landing on the ground with a groan, I reached for the knife in the side of my boot but Rumlow was a step ahead of me, grabbing my wrist and wrenched it behind my back while pulling to my feet. I screamed out in pain as I felt him press his body into my back. 

“Leave her alone!” Steve bellowed from the other end of the elevator. 

Some of the men had him trapped, making him unable to move. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered what Cap saw in you, Y/N. I mean you don’t have that cute of a face but your tac suit does wonders for your ass,” Rumlow groaned in my ear. 

“Fuck you!” Steve spat after landing a punch to someone’s face. 

“You know what I’ve always wondered about, Rumlow?” I ignored the way his hand slowly ghosted over my leather covered ass and continued. “I’ve always wondered how the hell you got on Shield’s Strike team when you didn’t even notice when a girl had reached for the knife she had hiding in her hair?” 

“What?” Rumlow questioned. 

Bringing my head back into his nose, immediately hearing a crack, I pressed my forearm into his throat and my eyes sliced into his.

“If you ever touch me like that again, I’ll make sure your sex life is nonexistent,” I seethed, pressing the knife into his crotch.

By now Steve had broken free from the grasp of the other men and we fought back to back, throwing kicks and punches. Soon it was just Rumlow and us, him holding his taser charged batons. 

“Easy there, big guy. I just want you to know this isn’t personal.” Rumlow said, out of breath. 

Steve blocked a few of his punches and threw him up into the ceiling, Rumlow’s body falling to the floor with a thud.

“It kind of feels personal,” Steve breathed, kicking his shield up towards him, catching it with an attractive ease. 

“Are you okay?” He asked while cupping my face.

“I’m fine.” I assured him with a smile. “But we need to get out of here.” 

He nodded before pressing the button to open the doors, more men dressed in black and guns drawn surprising us. 

“Drop the shield and the knives and put your hands in the air!” Someone ordered. 

I frantically pushed the button to close the doors as Steve broke the wire to the elevator, dropping thousands of feet in mere seconds. He pried the door open but cursed, quickly closing them. 

“What?”

“Give it up, Rogers. Open the door! You’ve got nowhere else to go!” Muffled voices shouted. 

Steve looked out the window before locking eyes with me. 

Rolling my eyes with a groan, I slipped my knife back into my pocket. “Fuck you, Rogers. I’m still picking out the shards of glass from my hair from last night.” 

“Later.” 

I didn’t have time to register the bluntness of Steve’s flirting because he pulled me into his chest and we both jumped out of the window falling straight through a ceiling. Steve’s body landed on top of his shield with a thud while his arms were wrapped tightly around me to protect my fall. 

Scream echoed around us as I shook the shards of glass out of my hair and just for a fraction of a second, I marveled at how blue Steve’s eyes actually were. 

“We need to go,” Steve breathed. 

“Right,” I nodded, pulling Steve to my feet with me before running out of headquarters, a group of men following close behind. 

[mistress-of-vos]

I'd make a longer post (and maybe one day I will) but since Lore Olympus, the story that introduced me to webtoons is coming to an end I'd like to say something:

I can't believe it is considered problematic. It has to be one of the sweetest, fluffiest, simplest stories I have read (hence why I still like it, it's a relaxing read before bed) and somehow it got too "kinky" for mainstream. It's laughable.

Everytime I dare to click on their tag or look for the # on Twitter or FB I see people clutching their pearls as if Lore Olympus were brainwashing teenagers into marrying a non existent God of the dead and have babies with him. What the hell?

The fact that people think LO is too dark makes me laugh. A single episode of Rick&Morty, BoJack Horseman or HQS has way more explicit content and dialogue. In fact!!! If it were up to me LO would have gotten genuinely kinky!!! All it does is have some surface spicy tropes that get sugar coated to not make puritans awkward and tbh that's sad. LO and the author get terribly hated anyway for daring to portray the most common female fantasy.

And this all makes me laugh but also mad because you'd think LO at least has some genuine dark themes but no? At most we have Persephone's trauma due to Apollo's abuse and yet that topic is treated as a therapy pamphlet because people couldn't handle an imperfect victim. Hades is a wife guy who shows little to no anger. Hera was re written to be sort of a feminist so that people stopped being annoying about women having emotions.

LO is a sweet, simple story with tiny spicy things here and there that were eventually pushed aside because people couldn't handle it. I wonder how Rachel feels about this, because at the beginning the story was extremely spicy and the only crime was being published in a platform as webtoon, full of people who can't differentiate reality from fiction.

Is LO a masterpiece? Idk! I enjoy the story, it's very self indulgent for me, but I won't go and analyze every detail to see how it should be labeled as it's not meant to be a perfect media. It's meant to be an entertaining, nice story of romance and it does that job very well. This need to demand perfect writing while also crucifying authors over "dark" themes is ridiculous and contradictory.

And I keep wondering, if these people loathe LO so much, why dedicate all that time to the infinte posts they make about how they would have told the story? And all those re tellings are boring! It's always "So Persephone and Hades won't ever kiss here because she's a lesbian. Also he doesn't appear at all. And Demeter isn't an abusive mom! Oh and everyone is ugly because gods shouldn't be beautiful! And Apollo isn't evil he's uwu baby. And no toxic relationships here, Zeus is a good husband!"

Sweet Gaia, you guys wouldn't handle Saint Seiya having Athena in the body of a teenage girl with big tits and who's constantly in the edge of breaking her virginity vows. This attitude screams of jealousy and puritanism and both are disgusting.

TLDR: LO being too problematic for people is both funny and annoying. I wished it actually were as kinky and dark as people insist it is. I'd pay for a toxic romance, but that being said, I LOVE it very much as it is and it's nice to have a re telling that, while not pretending to be loyal to mythology, didn't go for a route of sanitizing all the myths. I hope that once it ends haters will move on and let real fans and the author alone. 🙏