#but i can't even give myself a rest. i can't even lower the amount of effort. i can't half-ass it.

[interstellarvacuumcleaner]

The fact that burnout has no problem hitting your hobbies if you put a bit too much effort into them is. fucked up tbh. I'm supposed to love it, why am I crying.

[innerfare]

A Lucky Injury - Law

Summary: Your Captain, whom you've been crushing on since you joined the Heart Pirates, was injured in a fight, and his wound is in a place he just can't reach, forcing him to ask you for help bandaging it. Features pining (reader is down bad).

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff

CW: SFW // Slight Mention of Blood and Injury (no real gory details though)

Word Count: 643

———

It was a lucky injury. You were a bad person for thinking it, a horrible person for gleaning any amount of pleasure from your Captain’s pain, but it was a lucky injury. Somewhere between mild and moderate on the scale, closer to moderate though Law claimed it was mild, the gash on his shoulder blade was just out of reach. For him, at least. The gash was well within your reach. It was also serious enough to warrant medical attention, but not so serious that you had to worry about his future health. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Take off your shirt,” you ordered him, doing your utmost to act normal as he sighed and went to pull his hoodie off. To your sick pleasure, he flinched a little when he did, allowing you to step in and pull it the rest of the way off. You caught the lingering scent of his soap and that special laundry detergent he used for his sensitive skin mixed with his sweat, and you had to stop yourself from pulling the garment to your face and inhaling like some sort of lunatic. 

“Y/n-ah, I can do it myself.” His voice sounded lower than usual, similar to when he was tired or battling a cold he insisted he didn’t have. It was gravelly, like it might give out at any moment. 

“Just like you could fight those guys yourself?” You set the hoodie beside him on the exam table and assessed his wound, drying some of the blood from his tanned skin. You took extra care not to look at his bare chest, knowing full well those heart tattoos and lithe muscles would make it too difficult to concentrate on your work. 

“I did fight them myself,” he said. “And I beat them myself, too, so don’t-” He hissed as you dabbed his wound with antiseptic. 

“Yeah, you’re a real tough guy.” 

“I’m a Warlord,” he reminded you. 

“And the most terrifying one, to boot.” You continued cleaning his wound, a little bit too aware of the way his jaw clenched as you worked. Oh, and the sinewy line of his shoulder. You knew your captain was a nerd, but he certainly didn’t have the body of a guy who spent much of his time hunched over a desk. 

It was a lucky injury. 

“Why are you taking so long?” He asked. “It’s clean by now, just bandage me up.” 

“Doctors make the worst patients,” you tutted, giving his wound one more pass with the antiseptic. It was for his own good, not because you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to touch him. 

“If you’re dragging this out to punish me for going in by myself-” 

“I would never prolong your suffering,” you interrupted, reaching for a bandage. “That would be unethical.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “a pirate would never do something unethical.” 

“Is the Warlord going to lecture me now on ethics?” 

“Maybe.” He cleared his throat, and you realized there was a slight pink flush to his cheeks, though you had no idea why. You could only imagine he was embarrassed to be caught in a position where he needed help. 

You considered messing up the bandage so you had to redo it, now not even so enamored by his naked upper half as you were enjoying the way he squirmed, for once not in a position of power, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Of course, you regretted it as soon as he grabbed his dirty hoodie and tugged it back on. 

“I’ll need to change that in a few hours,” you told him as he stood up. “Come find me after dinner.” 

“Thanks,” was all he said before slipping out, leaving you with the fresh memory of his shirtless form and warm skin. 

It was a lucky injury. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[fawnpires]

TORN ON YOUR HEART — KÖNIG.

(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.

"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.

With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.

"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."

"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"

Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.

"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.

His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.

By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.

"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.

Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.

König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.

Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.

As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.

"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.

"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.

You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."

Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.

His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.

"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."

"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."

Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.

His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.

You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.

"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.

"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.

His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.

König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.

“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.

“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”

It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.

Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.

“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.

[jackpiastri]

helping hands – op81

oscar is sore from the race, and you'd do anything to help him feel better.

pairing: gender neutral reader x oscar piastri

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: okay soooo today in an interview after the race, oscar was asked if the race was physical – and he answered "my neck's feeling it". and as you may know by now, i do very very much love his neck. so i thought to myself ".....i volunteer to give him a lil massage 🤭", and then this happened. shoutout to my love arms anon, this one's to us neck lovers (and all of you who we've managed to turn into fans of oscar's neck on our journey) <3

and again, this is not my actual blog. check out @httpiastri for more stuff :)

f1 masterlist

you’re standing in the hotel bathroom, wrapping yourself in a fluffy bathrobe after a long shower, when you hear his voice from the other room.

"can you come here for a second?"

the bedroom is dark when you step into it, the low light from the lamp on your bedside table being the only thing illuminating your lover. oscar is lying on his stomach on the bed, his face pushed deep into a pillow. his back rises and lowers with his breaths, the muscles of his upper body peeking out from the duvet covering his bottom half.

"what’s up?" you ask, sitting down next to him on the bed.

he shuffles a little and soon, his head is sideways on the pillows, eyes looking up at you. "my neck is killing me."

"i don’t think that position is making it better, love."

he lets out a groan, which is then followed by a moment of silence as you wait for him to say something. you let one of your hands drag along his shoulder blades, almost as if to help him speak, and his eyes close from the sensation. "could you help me out?"

your heart softens at the question. "of course." you move a little closer, your hand moving through his newly washed hair as if to tell him that you want him to look down again. once his head is in place, you move one of your legs over his body, settling right above his hips.

your hands slide along his back before reaching his neck. you dig your thumbs along the base of it, going all the way up to the back of his head before moving down again. it's soft at first, but your touches grow firmer as time passes, wanting to force his muscles to relax. you feel oscar easing up under your fingers and he hums, letting go of all stress and pressure of the weekend.

there's something so sweet, yet so sensual, about moments like this with him. the way the room is so still and quiet, except for the low sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth; the way his skin feels under your hands, soft and warm; the way your heart flutters when you remember that no one else gets him like this, only you.

there's something about it that makes you feel so connected to him – and he feels the exact same way about you.

your hands move down right below his neck, and then along to his shoulders, working on the little knots hiding under his well-defined muscles. he lets out a muffled sigh when you press on one specific spot and you smile to yourself.

this is far from the first time he’s asked you to give him some massage after a rough race; the amount of strain his body is put through during a race is obviously very high, so you are always happy to help him out. you would gladly massage him until your hands gave out, but he'd always stop you before they even started to get a little sore. just like now.

as your hands drape along the sides of his spine, he turns his head to the side again. his eyes are still shut, seemingly deep in pleasure even when your hands stop moving. "you are the best, you know?" he says, a slight smile taking over his lips. "thank you."

"you are the best," you counter. "otherwise i wouldn't be doing this."

you can feel the chuckle vibrating through his body before you hear it, and you can't help but grin back at him. he pushes himself up to rest on his elbows and he looks back at you before patting the space next to him on the bed. you climb off his frame, leaning down to lie in the same position as him.

his hand smooths over your cheek, pulling you forward to press your lips onto his. his fingers move down the side of your neck, under your robe, caressing your skin much like you'd done to him just moments before. it's another way for him to thank you.

he's so good to you, so sweet, so perfect – and you are so in love with him.

[twobellsilence]

On Jimmy's cannibalization of Curly

Because this game gave me brain worms I found myself thinking way too hard about the second birthday party scene. Specifically, why Jimmy cuts off a chunk of Curly's leg and not only eats it, but also forces Curly to do the same, and what this says about him and his relationship with the captain.

Jimmy frames this as a matter of survival, but that's not really the case. "Judgement" happens 3 months after Daisuke states there's food left for around 4 months, meaning they'd still have resources left for a little while; still, let's entertain the thought, as I've seen people theorize that this potential lack of food is what ultimately pushed Anya over the edge (which I don't necessarily agree with, but it seems to be a relatively common interpretation), and suppose Dai overestimated the amount of food they had or they all simply mismanaged it and they really had nothing left when Jim set up the party. That still leaves him with other three corpses - Anya, Swansea and Daisuke - to chop up and consume without endangering Curly.

You could argue Anya's body is tainted by the meds she OD's on, and that Swansea's is too saturated with alcohol, and that makes sense. Daisuke, however, presumably quit drinking mouthwash two months before the end of the game if we were to take his "I don't want to look at this stuff anymore" line at face value and consider the fact that he was sober when the vent incident happened, meaning his flesh would be clean for consumption. But Jimmy still decides to mutilate curly, even risking him bleeding out, and at that point his "survival" argument falls apart pretty quickly. It isn't just survival - it never was.

See, to Jim, Curly is not a man but an idol, a symbol. He is simultaneously a source of hatred and adoration from him; he has everything he's ever wanted, is everything he aspires to be, and he despises him not only for being better than him, but also for being willing to throw his status away just because he doesn't feel like it's quite right for him, as if said status - the one Jimmy desperately wants to reach but can't, he simply can't - didn't mean anything, at least from Jim's perspective. He thought he could finally reach this level after Curly became disabled, but he quickly found out it was more than he bargained for, and even after reassuring Curly that he's a good captain - something he'd only ever mentioned as a jab, never as something positive - and being willing to give him the title back, that resentment lingered, because even in his current state Curly was better than Jimmy could ever hope to be, and at that point he'd ran out of ways to prove himself he could be superior.

I think this is why he decides to cut off Curly's leg. Yes, it is most certainly a form of punishment - to reduce him to livestock, to a mere tool for the survival of the crew, a parallel to his role as the captain where his blood, sweat and tears kept the cogs in the machine working. But it isn't simply because he wants Curly to suffer, he already did so with the crash and agreeing to keep him alive. Eating Curly's leg is, in a twisted way, the only manner in which Jim could ever hope to embody him well enough. If he can't be like Curly, perhaps he can become Curly by consuming his very essence. And this is also why he "shares" him with the rest of the crew - severing a part of him, this unattainable symbol of authority, and feeding it to his fellow workers is a way to equalize them all, to seize power from him, and absolve Curly's sin of being above them on the ladder. And now that Curly is down at their level, maybe even lower, Jimmy is willing to share this power with Curly too by force feeding him a piece of himself - the "forgiveness" he talks about on his speech.

[almostgigi]

Warnings: smut, fingering, grinding, dirty talk, squirting

Just a lil scenario I thought of the other day

Winter was almost over but the cold lingered even inside the house, being the bedroom the coldest of all of the rooms. I want the house to be warmer but the heater is not enough.

"I turned the heat on but s'till freezing here" I say rubbing my arms to give myself some friction.

"You always have me to make you hot" he says and I laugh at his doble intentions.

"Yeah, I know baby but you can't warm the place with that" I make a head motion to his pelvis. He laughs too and I decide to get into the bed finally. As soon as I put the blankets over the lower part of my body, I feel Eddie's arms wrap around my torso. I melt under his touch. Soon enough they find the hem of my shirt. "now you being risky"

"c'mon pretty, jus' wanna play with you" a kiss is sealed behind my right ear. I take his hands on mine and put them over my breasts. He squeezes them lightly and I breath funny.

"b-baby" I gasp and plead for I don't even know what.

"It's so easy to make you dumb on my touch" one of his hands leaves my chest to crawl itself along my tummy and over my panties. Two of his fingers drag along my clothed slit stimulating me and my whole body. I respond by moaning ever so slightly.

"please..."

"please what sweet girl? gotta use your big girl voice, can't have you babbling do I?" I shake my head no and I speak.

"please touch me underneath" I say, my blood boiling with pleasure.

"¿What does my baby want me to touch? ¿Huh?" voice full of desire.

"touch my pussy please" my hips buck against his hand looking for more.

"that's what I like to hear baby" I put my leg over his to give him more access to my entrance. One finger goes his way inside without warning and I clench. "easy baby, open that pretty pussy for me, c'mon" his words make me even more wet. He picks up a pace that takes me to heaven and back. I feel so good in his hands.

"oh yes" I rest my head on his shoulder and his other hand takes over my throat and chokes me. The amount of pleasure makes me get so close to cumming.

"yes? You like when I touch you like this pretty?" he pulls out his finger to caress my pussy, spreading my juices all over it, covering his palm in my arousal. "you also like when I rub your pussy like this, I know that" I get high on his words and his touch. I wanna cum on his hand.

"I, I'm close Eds" I cant even speak properly with his hand squeezing me tight.

"You are? Oh what a shame baby, I want to rub this sweet pussy I little bit longer, get her full of juice" before I can even think of react he gives my cunt a tiny slap. I jump from the feeling. He keeps slapping my pussy continuously as I spasm and clench around nothing.

"ah, ah Eddie please, I need to cum please" I nearly scream. Head numb from the teasing.

"so pretty when you beg my baby" he inserts his finger inside me again and takes on the pace as I moan relentlessly. "come on my fucking hand baby, make a mess" as soon as I hear him and he tightens the hold on my throat I come. Hot spurs of liquid coming out of my abused hole. "ohhh, yes sweetie that's it, keep cumming like that yeah" he kept his fingering as tiny spurs kept coming out of me. This is probably the longest orgasm I ever had. My whole body spasming along his. His palm started to slap my pussy again as the liquid stopped coming out. "ah sweetheart, hottest fucking pussy I've ever had. You nearly kill me, that's like the hardest you came in like, ever".

"I know, I don't know what took over me" I rest a little before getting up. "gotta change the sheets now" I look at him with a tired gaze.

"wow, where you going so fast? I still have to eat that beautiful pussy out and make you squirt in my mouth" the audacity of still wanting more after the things he did to me already.

"Eddie" my tone is mandatory.

"What? I'm hard as fuck, if I don't fuck you tonight and hear you ask me to give it to you harder I'm gonna die" he's senseless.

"help me change the sheets and maybe, I'll let you bend me over the kitchen counter and fuck me stupid" he gets up faster than a lightning and helps me out.

"expect me to take all your thoughts out of your head baby"

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Marks

Jung Wooyoung x gn reader

Your boyfriend finally has a few weeks off, and he wants to take full advantage of that.

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre:

p w/o plot , smut, dashes of fluff cause i can't help myself

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

*deep breath*, established relationship, idol woo, semi-long read of pure filth and woo and reader being absolutely whipped for each other, cursing, pet names(love, baby, good boy), hand holding(obv), switch dynamics, sub leaning woo, begging, praise, hickeys, taking of a(1) picture, heavy make-out, teasing, possessive dialogue, forehead touches(tehe), hair pulling, unprotected penetration(wrap up yall), blowjob, cum swapping, not edited, WHEEEEW okay i'll stop now enjoy

SMUT UNDER CUT MNDI

It's the drop of something metal that wakes him up. He's disoriented for a moment, looking around the bedroom in confusion before he spots the familiar picture of you and him on the desk. He forces himself to roll out of the comfort of your blanket and trudges towards the source of the sound.

You're nowhere to be seen as he rounds the corner, and he opens his mouth to call out. All the comes out is a small screech when you pop up from behind the counter. Hand to his heart he speaks, "Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

You give him a tight lipped smile in response, tossing the wad of paper towels in the bin. "Sorry, Woo."

He leans on his toes and looks over the counter, seeing a small amount of batter splattered on the tile. "What are you making?"

"I waaas making waffles. I burnt most of them, and spilled the rest." You stand in silence for a moment before he laughs loudly, leaning his head on the cool table top. "Hey! Why are you laughing?"

Your boyfriend manages to calm his laughter by the time you reach him, leaning your head on the same surface to face him. "Don't make fun of me, dickhead. Was trying to do something nice." He lifts up his hand and cradles your cheek with a sweet smile.

"M'not, that was sweet, baby."

"But?"

"But you can't cook for shit."

You laugh with him this time, and watching as he cheek smooshes against the table only elicits more giggles. He leaves you to inspect the damage, throwing away the brunt breakfast. As he bends down to wipe up the remaining batter from the dropped pan, it dawns on you that he's shirtless- his belly forming a small roll as he bends over.

Caught in your own thoughts, you don't notice as Wooyoung tosses the trash and looks back over to you. He leans on the doorframe as your eyes subconsciously track his figure. "Baby?"

"Yup!" You snap up with wide eyes, face hot.

"Whatcha' thinking about?" He asks with a teasing tone, breath catching in his throat as your eyes scan over him again. You take a bit of your lower lip in your teeth, holding back a smile. He makes a strangled noise of shock, running to the table to sit across from you. "Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip? Cause if so, we're having sex right now."

You can't help but chuckle at his reaction. He's always over the moon when you do anything that even remotely compliments him. "Do you want to? I mean- do you wan-"

"Yes. Always, baby. Always." His eyes shine with pure adoration as you stand and cross over to be right infront of him. The chair scraps against the floor as he quickly positions it to face you.

"My Wooyoung," you grin, cupping his face as you lean down. "Always so needy."

He doesn't care that you're teasing, he takes your hips in his hands and pulls you into his lap, desperately locking his lips with yours. Your lips crash against each other, breakfast completely forgotten. You're only hungry for each other now.

He moans as you lick his lips, opening his mouth to let your tongue slip in. It grazes against his teeth and settles in his mouth, and he greedily sucks on it, tangling his own tongue up with it. Drool is starting to accumulate on your skin, but neither of you pay any mind to it.

One of his hands trail up your back, snaking under the fabric of your sleep shirt and resting between your shoulder blades. The other stays glued to your hip. He smirks into the sloppy kiss as he feels your hip begin to grind the slightest bit.

You lean away for oxygen, and he follows you desperately, chasing small pecks until you grip onto the back of his neck and pull him so he's sitting flush against the back of the chair. Both of your panting fills the empty apartment, followed by your voice. "I love you."

His hand on your back, your hand on the back of his neck, both breathing heavily, you lean into each other, foreheads resting against one another. Your eyes desperately watching the others.

"I love you," he echoes. "I'm so utterly in love with you. I never want to let you go. I want to be yours forever. I want you to be mine forever."

You blink the wetness away from your eyes at the confession. Not trusting your voice- you rely on your lips to relay your emotions.

This kiss, just as desperate, is filled with love. You let him know, all but consuming him as you move your lips and pull him impossibly closer by the grip you have on his neck. Your opened mouth kisses trail down to his jaw, to his neck, and he whines.

"My Love," you coo, "you always sound so pretty for me." This, obviously, calls for another louder whine from him as he rolls his hips up towards yours. You bite back a groan as his bulge rubs against you. "You want me that badly, that you have to whine?"

"Yes," he whimpers shamelessly, watching intently as your hand trails down his exposed skin to play with the string on his sweats. "Please."

"Please?"

"Fuck, please touch me. Please let me touch you."

Wordlessly, you strip off your t-shirt, leaving you even in terms of clothing. He looks up at you with a gentle, genuine grin, his hands going to wander across the expanse your skin. They caress every little bit of skin they can as your lips slide across his neck.

Suddenly, with wide eyes, he slowly pushes you back and holds onto your shoulder, using all of his self control not to simply stare. "You okay?" You ask.

"I want you to leave marks."

The words go straight to your gut, heat pooling up in you, so quickly your afraid it will flood. "Huh?"

"I want you to leave marks."

"Really?" The look on your face is worth more than anything to him.

"Fuck, please, yes. I wanted this for so long, Baby. Fucking mark me up."

You don't have to be told again, knowing that now that he's got an extended break, he won't have to worry about getting scolded by his makeup artist and teased by his members.

You dive right in, going for his jugular like an animal. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls your chest flush with his, hands holding onto your shoulders to ground himself as you give him a feeling he'd only dreamed of thus far. You take your sweet time sucking the best hickeys that you can manage. It effective riles the both of you up, and when you discover his favorite spot- you refuse to let up.

"Ah~ yes," his pornographic moan is followed by the sweetest whispers of praise, "I love it. So g- so good, Baby."

He continues to hold you as you lean back, eyes wet with unshed tears. "Why'd you stop? Don't stop." His glazed eyes follow your hand as you reach onto the table and snatch up your phone.

The smirk on your swollen lips tells him he's not forgotten, and his intuition is proven right when you face the camera towards him. "Look how pretty you look, Love." One quiet shutter later and your turning your phone to face him with a giant smile on you face.

He's looking behind the camera, towards you. Lust and love and adoration swirl in his wet eyes, glazing them over. His neck his covered in hickeys, most of which are small. But one... one below his right ear, smack in the middle of his thick neck: is darkening already, and it has the tent in his pants tightening.

"You know what those say?" Your voice draws him back to reality. He sits the phone down with a shaking hand and after he does, you place that hand on the curve of your ass.

He makes a small sound in response, uh-uh.

He knows. That's why he's so excited at the fact you've finally been able to give him a taste of his own hickey-treatment that he does so often on you.

"It means," you begin as you grind down on him, earning a low moan, "back the fuck up, because I'm the only one who gets to have Jung Wooyoung."

You gasp as he stands up with you in his arms, wrapping you legs around him and holding on for dear life as he runs to the bed room. "Woo! Slow down!"

You tumble onto the bed together, a small chuckle leaving your lips at his antics. "Oh, Wooyoung, you've got so worked up with just some kisses," you tease in going to brush back a stray from his hair when his hand clasps around your wrist and pushes it to the bed.

All the remaining tears are blinked away within seconds as he stares down at you. "Take your pants off." He says blankly as he releases you hand and removes his own. You quickly follow suit, sliding your shorts and your underpants off and kicking them to a far off corner in the unmade bed.

At some point, he pulled the bedside draw out and now has a bottle of lube in one hand, his hard cock in the other, lathering it up and warming up the cool gel for you. It's something he always does, but you can never get over it.

"I've never wanted to fuck you more." He groans as he maneuvers his slick hand to your hole. "I want to fuck you so hard." You moan as his long fingers stretch you out, hands searching for something to hold onto.

He discards the bottle and takes up both your hands, letting you hold onto his free hand while he works you with the other.

"Don't hold back," you encourage. "Don't hold back."

He takes your advice, working you open faster with unrelenting thrust of his fingers until he feels your fingers tap on his hand twice.

He's hovering over you next thing you know, positioning himself and sinking into you. He lets his head rest onto yours, watching your face scrunch up ever so slightly as he slowly fill you.

"Gah- Jesus, Woo, you feel so good!" You wrap your arms around his neck and grip onto the roots of his hair at the back of his neck.

It's his turn now, for his face to screw up in pleasure as you use his scalp as a grounding technique as he fully sits inside you. "So good, Baby. You... so good." He can't help but laugh a little at your fucked out voice, searching for words that are nowhere to be found. He pecks your lips and then props himself up, groaning as your fingers keep a grip on his hair even as he moves.

"Don't hold back?" He repeats your words, making you nod.

"Want you to fuck me good, fuck me stupid."

Whatever you want, he will always give to you.

He pulls out, and teases you for a moment, letting your hips chase his until he pounds back into you. The moans you let out are a sweet melody, one he can't ever seem to get enough of.

A shattered breath falls from his lips into your shoulder, where he's buried his head for the time being. "You always take me so well." He feels the way you clench around him, his words going straight into the boiling pot of heat in your stomach. "Your mine, you know that? All mine."

"Yeah," you croak out, holding onto him as tight as you can as he continues to hammer into you. His name falls like a prayer from your bruised lips, sending a signal to his cock that makes him go all the harder. "And you know," you struggle, pull him by his hair so he faces you once again. "You're fucking mine."

"God, fuck!" A chocked sob tumbles away from him as he looks deep into your eyes, watching you bounce with every rough plunge he makes. He takes hold of your hips and holds you in place as he leans down and starts giving you the same treatment you have to his neck: all while his rhythm stays ruthless.

"Want you to cum on my cock." You whine out at his words, his actions and words quickly becoming all too much. He continues to suckle on your neck as you hit your peak, letting you bring him ever closer with your arms around his head as he fucks you through it. Shockwaves grip your very soul as he continues to hit the perfect spots inside you.

He stills inside you, letting you hold him and rubbing up and down your sides gently as you descend. Your loud moans have settled down huffs of air as your hips jerk. "You always do so good for me. I fucking love how it feels when you cum around me." His words draw out a high pitched whine from you, and you smack his shoulder playfully in a warning not to get you started while your so sensitive.

He slowly pulls himself out and helps you sit up, bringing you to face his cock. Not giving him a chance to recuperate, you open wide and engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. He sucks in a sharp breath and places his hands on the top of your head, holding you still for a moment. You look up, and catch his gaze.

And, truly, it takes everything in him not to fall over. You look at him with eyes so full of genuine care and love even while doing something so promiscuous. It makes his heart beat so loud, he'd be shocked if you didn't hear it.

He nods, and lets you take control again, bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and holding onto his thighs just the way he likes until he's coming completely undone. He reaches down to his thigh and grabs ahold of your hand, holding tightly as he cums into your mouth, whimpering.

You slide off him and lick up the remains of his seed, making him twitch.

He lays down in the empty space beside you and in no time, youre straddled on his stomach: leaning down to kiss him. He hums as the salty mixture of your saliva and his cum hits his tongue.

You take a few turns pushing it back and forth until you pull away before he can do it last minute and hold your hand over his mouth. He gives you his best begging eyes, which are admittedly very bad, but you smirk in response. "It's your turn, My Love. Don't think I've lost track."

He swallows thickly, and licks your hand. "Say 'ah'."

"Ah," he exaggerates as he sticks out his tongue, clean of any residue.

"Good boy."

"Oh, that's just playing dirty!" He yells as he takes you in his arms, telling you over your giggles, "if you get me hard again, it's your turn to swallow."

[thesparklingwriter]

a gift from a dragon

"Was I ever going to be told about this, or was I supposed to accidentally discover it myself?"

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, reader is preganant, dragon!zhongli doing dragon!zhongli things because im a simp, nesting, tooth rottingly fluffy

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

hello everyone ^^ this segment of the zhongli flufftober that is now just 31 fluffshots is inspired by this ask! i recommend checking it out so you know what the original context was :) i had so much fun writing this, i was literally kicking my feet and giggling like an imbecile... anyway I've been told by a couple of betas on some other works that i may have a slight over reliance on dialogue so I've been working on setting the scene a bit more through description, please tell me if this slays or not.

i am down so astronomically bad for family man zhongli be still my beating heart and ovaries cause wtaf

Zhongli's favourite part of the day is easily six pm when he can hurry home from the funeral parlor to see you. But over the few weeks, he's been becoming more on edge as the clock tends to the end of his work day. He's never particularly enjoyed being away from you for long, granted, but he always wants to be at home now.

On his way home, he passes through the market stalls and finds himself drawn to a couple of stands, musing over how the wares would suit your home perfectly. Before he knows it, he's bought a ridiculous amount of goods and is staggering under the weight of it as he returns home to you. He'd only meant to buy the vase, but then he'd been drawn to some woolen blankets and pillowcases with golden threads, and how could he ignore his instincts when they were calling out to him so loudly?

"You're finally home," you smile when he comes through the front door. You dare not ask about the ridiculous amount of things he's been buying recently–when you do, he looks at you with confusion, as if you're supposed to know what he's doing. You don't. At all. When it comes to Zhongli and his instincts, you've learned to ride the wave and accept whatever you're told.

Zhongli lowers his head to kiss you, manoeuvering his pile of goodies out of your way. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great. How are you?" You shoot back snarkily. You know that's not what he's asking—he's asking about whether the baby's been good today or whether you've done anything particularly exciting with the sudden excess of time you've been granted since taking maternity leave.

"I'm well, thanks," he replies, chuckling at your evasion of his question. You do this almost every day, withholding the details of your day from him until he sits down and gives you his full attention—something he can't do while carrying a whole mound of knitted goods.

"I'll tell you more after you put that away. Where are you stashing all that stuff anyway?" You ask, and Zhognli shrugs.

"Places." he smiles, heading upstairs. The aforementioned place is your room—not that you spend much time in it. In fact, Zhongli's been in your old room more often in the past three months than you have since you moved in. As your pregnancy progresses, you seek him out more than usual, desperate for his comfort. And so, his room has become a shared room. Not that he particularly minds.

When he returns downstairs, he lies down, resting his head in your lap, and you tell him everything you've done today, absent-mindedly braiding his hair as you talk. He likes being close to your stomach, even though you're barely showing, and listens attentively, asking questions about your adventures. Nine times out of ten, you both fall asleep like this, and you awake in the morning in your bed. But today, you wake up before Zhongli does, having napped earlier in the day, and carefully slip away from him, slipping a pillow under his head where you once had been.

The sheer amount of knitted things Zhongli brought today has made you want to revive your old hobby of crocheting in the hopes you might be able to make something for the baby. If you remember correctly, the last time you crocheted anything was when you still used your room for its intended purpose—and not as a walk-in wardrobe. And so, you march yourself to your room, ready to check under the bed for your trunk of supplies.

Or rather, you would be if Zhongli hadn't replaced your bed with what feels like thousands of pillows and blankets.

Oh, Li, you think, wrapping a blanket with golden threads around your shoulders.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget that the man wasn't always human—that even though his body is that of a man's, his mind and soul aren't, and that sometimes old instincts kick in. Was he embarrassed? Was he worried that you'd think he's weird?

You walk towards the large pile of comforters out of curiosity. If he put this much work into it, you might as well test if it's any good, right? You sink into the blankets, curling up with one of the pillows in your hands. It feels like every part of your body is being hugged by him and you can swear the blankets smell like him. Before you know it, you've fallen asleep, a golden pillow clutched close to your chest.

When Zhongli wakes up and finds you replaced by a pillow but the house silent, he's slightly concerned. Have you injured yourself while he's been sleeping? It can't be. He would have woken up. And so he decides to search for you. Just to make sure you're alright. He can't be too careful. But you're not in his bed, and you're not in the bathroom, the study, or the small makeshift library he'd put together for you.

The final place to look is your old room, but you'd had no reason to go in there before, so why would you go now all of a sudden? But of course, that's where he finds you, curled up in the middle of the sorry attempt of a nest he'd put together to try and curb his urges. He wishes he'd had enough time to finalise his preparations, but seeing you sleep so happily makes his heart swell. He sits on the floor beside the bed, carefully taking your hand in his as you stir, resting your hand on your stomach as you sit up.

"Good evening," he smiles, and you stare at him blankly as if you don't understand, a sign you've slept well. "Are you alright?"

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into bed with you. When you've finally woken up enough to talk, you look up at him and ask: "Was I ever going to be told about this, or was I supposed to accidentally discover it myself?"

"I had intended it to be a gift for you and the baby when you were further along, but I have no objections to you getting an early present." His smile is excited and bright as he pulls you closer to him, suddenly overcome with the feeling that you can never be close enough.

"This is not what I expected when I found out dragons nest." You smile against his chest.

"Well, I can't exactly bring you feathers, can I? You'd slaughter me the minute I step over the threshold, so this will have to do."

"I can think of worse places to sleep," you smile, kissing him lightly. "Thank you. I love it."

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

taglist: @ainescribe @thelonelyarchon

[actuallykiwi]

On the Hunt: Part 1

A retelling of capturing the heart of Hollywood U's most ineligible eligible bachelor.

I salute, "Understood, ma'am!" We laugh and I hug my best friend, thanking her again before I head out to my waiting Uber.

"Ads, it's a charity event. They label it as a 'ball' so big spenders will donate more." My head aches from the amount of tugging she's doing on my hair.

"It is a ball! A masquerade one! You go fancy or you don't go at all!" Addison tucks one last curl into a pin and sets the curler down, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "And I do believe I have made you meet the quota despite your insistence on that dress. You're welcome!"

Well, I have to admit, leave it to a Fashionista to make anything look rich. I give myself a thorough check-over in the full-length mirror, and she's right. My teal silky dress may not have had a comma in the price, but with the silver jewelry, sparkly heels, and the peacock feathers adorning my curled half-up hair, I feel like the Queen herself. The matching peacock masquerade mask will finish the whole suite. "Thank you, Ads! You know how to make a girl feel fancy," I laugh as she snaps pictures and I strike fun poses. "Of course! No one else is ever allowed to dress you. Ever. I mean it, Annie!" She threatens.

And every soul in the room is wearing a masquerade mask. Even the waiters. You can tell there are definitely some moguls and celebrities in here based on how much jewelry they have on, the material of their suits and dresses, but not a face to be seen. Even the string quartet are all wearing matching maroon masks. Dedication at its finest.

Due to limo traffic, my driver has to drop me off a couple of streets down from the venue. Luckily, I went with lower heels. The red carpet is rolled out in the front for some of the bigger-name attendants, so I sidle in through a side entrance and slip on my feathery mask. Once my ticket is given to a greeter, I'm in.

And wow, they really went all in for this "ball" theme. A shiny gold banner welcomes guests with "5th Annual Los Angeles Charity Masquerade Ball" across the foyer. The ballroom itself is glowing with Regency-style decor, gold chandeliers illuminating the massive dance floor with gentle light, everywhere else lit by candlelight. Waiters swim through the crowds with trays of sparkling gold champagne, and even the bar far off to the left has festive shiny centerpieces.

Well, Uncle Moh said to enjoy myself, so I'll ease up and get a mimosa from the bar. Maybe I'll find him later.

I can't help but feel a bit like a princess as my make way down the grand marble staircase to where the bar rests under the second floor balcony. Some people are chatting idly at the numerous tables along the edge of the dance floor, while most are out dancing. There are a couple of stragglers by the bar, usually just swinging by to get a drink that the waiters aren't carrying. One, however, catches my eye. A man in a navy suit, wearing a matching navy mask with silver lining, sits on a stool sipping his scotch and stares down the clock on the wall. He looks irritated to be here, and something about him is... eerily familiar. And maybe a touch alluring. As I approach the bar next to him and place my order, I get a whiff of his cologne. Smells deliciously expensive.

"Not having a good time?" I strike.

The man doesn't even look at me. "What makes you think that? As I enjoy the strongest drink they have, in a room full of strangers."

I shrug and sip my drink as it arrives. "Fair enough. Though, if scotch is the strongest thing they have, that's kind of sad."

He slowly turns toward me. "In case you're dense and missed my point, I meant you. A stranger. I have no interest in socializing with strangers." His gaze returns to the clock.

"You don't mince words, do you?" A sip of mimosa.

"I prefer to be honest." A gulp of scotch.

"Huh, a rare thing in Hollywood. It's appreciated." I nod at him.

"Are you sure? Because I can be very honest." He glances at me from the side and raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, honesty's refreshing. One thing I've learned since coming here... too many people are willing to lie to your face or cheat to get ahead."

He scoffs. "And you're not one of them?"

"No. Not yet at least." I grin.

"But you do want to get ahead?"

I drink more mimosa and lean on the back of the stool next to him. "I mean, who doesn't?"

The man now fully turns his stool to face me, downs his scotch, and leans on his arm on the bar. "Well, here's more truth for you; everyone wants to be someone. But not everyone here is going to succeed."

I smile knowingly. Heard this one before. "Mm, one of the first lessons I learned, 'To make it in Hollywood, you have to get used to being told no'... but still fight for it, of course."

He blinks and looks at his empty glass on the table almost sadly. "Huh. Wish I had that advice early on..." He glimpses down at me and clears his throat. "Ahem. Excuse me. I'm Thomas. And you are?"

I take his outstretched hand and shake it. "Oh, I'm the niece of the head of security for this event. He's the reason I got in. And I've been instructed to stay anonymous tonight, until the event is over."

He scoffs again. "You don't have to be so coy. I don't need a name to figure out who you are, or anyone in this room for that matter."

Thomas glances at the clock, then back at me, thinks for a moment. "I was. Crowd of strangers, as I mentioned. But, maybe not all are bad..." Now his lips definitely curve into a grin, for me. Lord help me if I get to see who's under that mask.

"But we're all wearing masks. How do you know who anyone is?"

He swivels his seat so I'm next to him and we're both looking out at the fancy crowd. "Years spent analyzing the nuances of physicality and behavior. For example, that woman over there in the pink is Paris Hilton."

I start to question but he puts a hand up. "Her distinctive laugh. The man next to her is Daniel Craig. Slight limp from his injury on the set of 'Spectre'."

I let out an impressed chuckle. "Impressive!" I turn toward him and put my hand on my hip. "And what can you deduce about me, a complete stranger?"

He scratches his chin and doesn't hide that he's looking at me. "I've been wondering that since the moment you arrived. Something about you is familiar, annoyingly so, but at the same time, forgive me, attractive."

I feel my cheeks burn. "You seem familiar too... Annoyingly so." I mimic with an eye roll. He chuckles, maybe the first time I've seen his lips curve. "... You're not going to tell me who you are, are you?"

"And spoil the fun? Masquerades are about mystery and intrigue, right? And also not getting kicked out by my uncle cop. But maybe at the end of the night. Unless you're planning on leaving early...?"

Snob. But I'll be damned if he's not an attractive one.

The string quartet fades into a slower number as I finish my drink. Thomas has moved to people watching and I follow his gaze to the couples now swaying on the floor. "Care for a dance?" I ask.

"Oh no. I don't dance with just anyone."

"No one good enough?"

"Precisely."

"Possibly not even with a 'perfect' stranger?" I move a curl from my mask.

"Possible? Yes. Likely? No."

I sigh. "Well, I could walk away now, and take all of my secrets with me. You'll lie restless wondering who I am with nary a chance to find me..."

"I told you. I could find anyone in this room." I can see his jaw working. Come on... "... though I'm shamed to admit I'm curious and impatient."

"So...?" I take a half-step towards the dance floor.

After a brief moment, Thomas stands from his stool, adjusts his suit jacket, and nods his head toward the crowd. "Try to keep up."

For a moment, I forget we're in public. Thomas is wonderful at dancing. Every sway, every swing, every time he spins me, the dim lights in the room are a blur, and all I can see is him. I swear I'll be smelling his expensive cologne in my dreams, and it's especially on this dress from how close he's holding me. I managed to even spy a couple of smiles from him!

Then we're off into the middle of the crowd until we find a space to dance. One of my hands is in his while my other rests on his shoulder, his other hand loosely at my waist. I admit I'm a little tense as we begin.

"Nervous?" He asks. "A little," I admit.

"If you're nervous, this dance is over before it even begins."

"I didn't say I was nervous for me," I retort, my reward being that little smirk of his. "Cheeky. Afraid your uncle will find us?"

"For your sake, yes. But I'll enjoy the moment while it lasts, thanks."

"The same." His grip on my waist tightens as he pulls me closer. His smile mirrors my own.

"Oh no, my dear. The spotlight has always been yours." He spins me out away from him, then catches me and spins me to him with my back against him and his lips at my ear. "You're mesmerizing."

"Hmm... You're not completely horrible at this. You've even seemed to draw a crowd." He mutters to me.

Sure enough, reality is back, and she's in the form of a dozen masked faces watching us. "Never was one to stray from the spotlight. But you're like an expert at this, they must be watching your skill."

The audience politely claps. But they're a dull echo in my mind. I'm all blush as I turn my head ever so slightly towards him, our masks touching and eyes meeting. Thomas moves a stray curl behind my ear, then moves us back into a slow dance. The world tunes back in as the audience also returns to dancing.

I shake my head to clear myself out of it. "So... who is Thomas outside of charity balls?"

"Now, if you won't tell me your name, you don't get my secrets either."

"Touche."

We dance slowly for a few minutes, making idle chatter and discussing the extravagant decor. Seems we both think it's a little much. Then the music speeds up and a group dance begins. Thomas quickly explains the steps, then we're launched into partner swaps. I'm tossed to a man who smells of sickly sweet cigars with a brassy mask on, and Thomas is tossed to a woman with bright red hair in an equally bright glittery mask.

3 partners later, my feet are beginning to ache and I could go for another mimosa. I settle for sitting at a table for a moment when I'm approached by the only non-masked individual I've seen tonight.

"Uncle Moh! I've been good, I swear. Totally anonymous guest." I raise my hands in promise.

He's still in uniform, but someone must have forced a little gold bowtie on him. It's cute. He raises an eyebrow at me, "So the man you're dancing with..."

"Doesn't know my name."

Uncle Moh glances behind me, then nods and returns to his post.

"Well, you weren't kidding. He does want you to remain anonymous." A familiar voice says from right above me. Warm hands rest on my shoulders from behind, covering the straps of my dress. I get goosebumps and look up at Thomas, my head bumping his stomach.

"There you are! I did tell you I wasn't a liar."

He grins and walks around me as he brushes a hand across the back of my shoulders. "Then maybe more privacy is required. Come with me." He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. Okay, now I have goosebumps.

And my stomach falls through the balcony.

Thomas still has my hand in his as he leads me to a balcony overlooking part of the bay. Night fell not too long ago, and the stars are out to play. The glow of the ballroom illuminates the area.

"So, disappointed you didn't leave early? Expectations met?" I tease as we lean on the railing.

He looks at me, thinking for a moment, and something in his expression makes my heart flutter. "It has exceeded them many times over."

I bashfully tuck a curl behind my ear. "Must be a first."

Thomas takes that hand and lightly kisses my knuckles, then takes both of my hands and faces me. "You are definitely the best part of the night. I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you. There's something about you, a connection..."

I'm flustered in all sorts of ways. My heart is threatening to jump out of my chest, but I nervously chuckle, "Cryptic..."

"Bear with me. I never thought I'd feel this strongly about a, what did you call it, a 'perfect' stranger..." There's a moment where he just looks at me, studying my eyes, what he can see of my expression. "No more secrets." Then he unties his mask.

My strict, no-nonsense, seems-to-have-it-out-for-me professor is standing in front of me. The hardest person to impress, Professor Thomas Hunt.

Wait.

Sh*t.

THOMAS. HUNT.

I am an idiot.

"Disappointed?" He asks, while my jaw is all but on the floor.

I stammer. "I-I n-no, I just, uh.."

He chuckles, "It's okay if you are. But, please..." He steps forward and cups my face in his hands, "I need to know who you are..."

And then Thomas Hunt's gorgeous face is leaning towards mine, still snug in my mask. Oh, how badly I would want this in another life. Hell, how badly I want it now. But...

"Wait." I hold up my hand, his lips kissing my fingertips. "...Remove my mask first."

"Are you sure?" He whispers against my hand. Uugghhh curse you honesty.

I nod. So Thomas reaches around my head and unties my mask, which promptly falls to the ground.

I can't stop my audible gasp. It was like a physical blow to my gut, my chest. He was never one to hold back his disdain for me, why am I surprised now? He seems to notice how hard the blow hit, though. His eyes are wide but softening. "I... y-you..."

"ANNEKA!?" He physically jumps back. "How dare you!?"

"Thomas, you have to understand, I didn't know it was you-"

"Do NOT call me Thomas! You... you lied to me! You seduced me!!"

"I didn't lie! I didn't know! I thought we were having a good time, I didn't realize-"

"You didn't realize what? That I couldn't, won't be involved with a student? Let alone you!? You are the LAST person I wanted to see behind that mask!"

Without a word, I walk over my mask and begin heading for the door, before the tears can threaten me. Thomas grabs my wrist. "Wait."

I can't even look at him. But I see his legs pause, and his head turns after a moment. He speaks softly.

I pause. His grip softens. "Just wait, Anneka..."

I swallow hard before I slowly turn to face him. His expression has an uncharacteristic softness to it that I've never seen before. "That was harsher than it should have been... but this... this is a line we cannot cross. Forget this happened. Nothing changes."

Thomas lets me go and starts to walk around me towards the exit. My voice is weak when I find the strength to speak. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry..."

"... Don't be."

And then he's gone.

(Disclaimer: The original story, places, events, names, most dialogue, and all characters except for Annie belong to Pixelberry from their game Hollywood U: Rising Stars. Thank you for reading!)

[anbaas-18plus-blog]

Gone Again

Part One here

MDNI AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. THIS SERIES WILL BE GETTING MORE 18+ WITHIN THE NEXT PART OR TWO.

PT 2 Dabi x Childhood friend reader.

Word count: around 1.5k

CW: A little choking in the beginning. Use of the nickname Princess.

No specific gender mentioned(unless I slipped up somewhere and missed it). No smut in this one. Might happen in the next part, though.

"Toya..."

The man's grip on your throat tightened and he furrowed his brows.

"Toya, eh? I haven't heard that name in ages," he says as he leans is face mere inches from yours.

"So just who the hell do you think you are, hmm? How do you even know my name," he questioned, raising one of his eyebrows.

Your hands reaching for the hand he had around your throat, trying to loosen his grip.

You uttered your name as best you could with the amount of pressure that was being applied to your windpipe.

For a split second you could have sworn you saw his facial expression change.

"Y/N," he barely whispered as he slowly loosened his grip and let his arm fall to his side. "How did you find me,"he questioned as he averted his gaze from yours.

You spoke his birth name again and reached out your hand to touch his arm. In return, he took a few steps back.

"Answer my question, damn it," he demanded, as he shot you a glare.

"My quirk," you stated. "Why does it matter how?"

His eyes widened, first from shock, then from fear. Not fearful of you, but because he didn't know the reasoning. Were you working for someone? He couldn't afford to be caught now. He still had things he had to accomplish.

"Who sent you," he asked as he made eye contact with you.

You gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean? No one sent me to find you," you responded.

"Then why? Why would you even bother looking for me," he inquired.

You gave a smile and said, "I missed you. You don't know how happy it makes me to see you alive."

He scoffed. Someone missing him? Someone happy that he's alive? Those things were unfathomable to him. Before he could say anything in response, his phone chimed.

Not even bothering to take his phone out, he turned and began to walk away. As he did so, he said, " If I were you, I would forget about ever seeing me. For both of our sakes."

"No," you stated matter-of-factly,"I can't do that, Toya."

He stopped in his tracks, turned to the side and glared at you. If looks could kill, you would have been dead.

"For fuck's sake, stop saying that damn name already. 'Toya' is gone. I go by Dabi these days," he spat and resumed walking away.

"To- I mean, Dabi, where are you going," you inquired.

"Nowhere you need to know about," he said without even slowing his pace.

You weren't one to give up easily, so you ran toward him and embraced him from behind.

"Please, please don't disappear on me again. I need you," you nearly begged.

You had him frozen in place. As much as he would have loved to have turned around and expressed his true feelings for this reunion, he couldn't. He was a wanted criminal, and didn't need you, someone with whom he had cared for dearly in his past, to get caught up in this.

His head lowered, "Let go," he said dryly.

Your grip only tightened around his waist.

"Y/N," his voice was strained as he spoke," if you don't let go, I'm going to have to make you."

Your head rested on his back.

"The only way I'm letting go, is if you let me come with you," you stated.

"No," Dabi responded.

"Why not," you pouted.

"Don't you know who I am now? I'm a villain, a bad guy," he told you.

"I don't care, I want to be with you, I'm an adult and I can handle myself. Don't treat me like a child. I'm only letting go if you let me come with you," you declared.

It was then that Dabi's phone went off even more. He let out an exasperated sigh.

"Whatever, it's not like you ever listened to me when we were kids either," he complained.

With that, you let go of him and started walking beside him.

"So where are we going," you asked as you glanced over at him.

"To the L.O.V. hideout. Just let me do the talking, you got it, Dabi chided,"Last thing we need is you getting on boss man's bad side."

"The L.O.V.," you trailed off momentarily before speaking again. "So you're part of the most powerful group of villains around, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Bet you're wondering the how's and why's I joined," he spoke.

"No, I mean, yeah, but this is you we're talking about, and I'm sure you have your reasons. I'm not gonna pry. You can tell me when you're ready," you told him.

"Still trust in me even after this long, huh? You must have a couple of screws loose in that noggin of yours," he joked.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted at his comment,"That's not nice, you know."

Dabi pulls his phone phone his pocket and checks his messages. They were, of course, all from Shigaraki. It was nearly time for one of his plans to be put into action.

He typed away at the keys, letting his boss know he was ready, and for Kurogiri to warp him away.

As happy as he was internally to see you, he couldn't have you just waltz into his life and screw everything up. All his planning, all of his hard work to get to where he was, it wasn't worth it to have everything go down the drain now.

You didn't realize Dabi was no longer at your side. At least not until he called out a goodbye. As soon as you had turned around to the sound of his voice, he had vanished through a portal of some kind.

You stood there blinking for a few moments before you reacted.

"Ugh, you're so insufferable," you shouted to the now empty space.

All of your time spent finding him, and he goes and does this? To say you were angry was an understatement. You were infuriated. An exasperated sigh left you lips as you turned to go back the way you came.

As much as you wanted to track him down again with your quirk, you couldn't. Just trying to do so gave you an intense headache.

You made your way home, feeling tired, defeated, and just downright pissed off. You still couldn't believe he just did that. What was that thing, anyway?

Once inside your apartment, you removed your shoes, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen. Your head, by this point, felt like it was going to split open. You walked into the bathroom and took soke mesicine from the medicine cabinet and took it. Hoping to relieve the hammering of your head.

Looking at the time, itbwas nearing seven pm. Normally, you wouldn't go to bed this early, but with the way you felt, sleep was probably the only thing that could possibly ease your head. You walked into your bedroom, and, without even botherimg to change your clothes, you plopped down on your bed and got underneath the blankets. It wasn't long that you drifted off to sleep.

You found yourself in a strange place. This certainly wasn't your apartment. How in the world did you even end up here? None of those questions you had the answer to, at least not until you heard a voice on the other side of room speak.

"It's about time you woke up, Princess," he spoke as he slowly emerged from the shadows that engulfed that side of the room.

You tried to move, but couldn't. You found yourself bound to a chair. You felt shock and fear wash over you. Eyes widening as the man got closer to you. You could see him, his turquoise eyes shining in what little moonlight was illuminating the darkened room.

"Toya..," his name fell from you mouth as more of a question than anything else.

He sauntered over to where you were restrained. He cupped your cheek with his right hand and caressed the soft skin of your face. His eyes took you in. Looking so vulnerable, so frightened, so.. so absolutely delectable. His fingers traced your jawline, then he grabbed your chin, leaning in so that his face is mere inches from yours. "I told you before, it's Dabi, now. Don't use my dead name," he spoke, his voice slightly annoyed.

"T-.. Dabi.. Where are we?! And why am I bound to this chair," you questioned as you tried to break free again.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about any of that. Just know I'll take good care of you, Princess," he said to you as he let out a chuckle.

He leaned in closer, his lips barely grazing yours as a smirk forms on his face.

You could feel the heat radiate from him as he kissed you.

Suddenly there is this blaring tone going off. It sounded as though it was a mix between an alarm and a ringtone. Before you could fathom what was happening, everything fades to black.

[ratsetkink]

I prepare myself, so he doesn't get his hands dirty, back turned to him so he can watch.

Apparently I took too long for his liking, because he grabs my wrist, pulling my fingers from my lube slicked ass.

He guides my hand back until I wrap my fingers around the vibrator attached to the harness he's wearing, and I make sure to thoroughly coat it in the generous amounts of lube that are still left on my hand. 

I twist around so I can kiss him, and he allows it for a bit, before pulling back and giving a light push to my upper back. 

I eagerly comply, getting on my hands and knees for him and presenting my ass, not paying too much attention to the fact that I am smearing lube on the sofa below me. 

He runs a hand over my lower back for a moment, and then grabs my hips to steady me. 

I feel the tip of the strapon bump against me and slide back and forth over my hole before he starts to push it inside. 

I'm so thoroughly prepared and need him so much that he slides in without any resistance. 

Once his hips are settled against my ass, he gives two experimental thrusts, then stills again. 

One of his hands leaves my waist. After a moment I hear a small click. And the vibrator inside of me starts buzzing. 

Two more clicks, the vibrations get stronger, and both his hand are firmly grabbing me again, pushing and pulling and fucking me in earnest. 

My arms give out, dropping me down to my elbows. A loud groan resonates through the room, and after a moment the soreness in my throat tells me that it must have been me making those noises.

The way he moans reminds me that he's using the strapless strapon, so he's probably getting almost as much out of this as I am. 

He shifts around behind me a bit and the new angle must be doing something for him, because his moans get louder and his thrusts get harder and faster. 

My pussy is dripping wet and my dick aching, and I shift my weight onto one elbow, so my other hand is free to wander down and get myself off. 

I'm stopped halfway through the motion, when he stills, smacks my ass, and firmly grabs my wrist. 

He leads my wrist above my head, then grabs hold of my shoulders and pushes until my chest is fully pressed against the sofa. 

Seemingly satisfied that I can't move my arms anymore he resumes thrusting even harder than before, his moans starting back up. 

The noises he's making, the vibrations deep inside me, and the slick slide against my inner walls all go straight to my dick, and in my desperation I try to rub myself against the sofa. 

This time he smacks my ass harder and actually growls at me. 

One hand keeps pushing me face down into the sofa, but the other one lifts my hips up so I can't find any friction. 

He keeps fucking me like that, almost driving me insane with the need to touch myself, until a loud moan and the faltering of his rhythm tell me that he just came. 

I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that I'll be allowed to come now too. 

After a moment the vibrations stop and the strapon slides out of me. He takes off the harness, throws it to the side, and stretches out across me, bare hips resting against my ass. 

I expect his hand to wander down and play with me, but he seems perfectly content to make himself comfortable on top of me. 

Fine, I will do it myself. 

But I haven't moved my hand past my head yet when he catches my wrist again, and bites my shoulder. 

I'm too horny to play along any longer.

I'm bigger and stronger than him, and use that to twist around under him until I can grab him in a bear hug and flip him over onto his back. 

I relish the shocked look on his face for a moment, before I gather his wrists this time and pin them above his head. 

I position myself so I can get my legs around one of his thighs and then desperately hump his leg. 

I think about letting go of one of his wrists so I can finally touch my dick and get myself off, but then I have a better idea. 

I scramble up the sofa a bit, sit on his chest, grab his hair, and pull his head forward so I can rest my dick against his lips. 

He looks up at me defiantly, refusing to cooperate, but I know how to push his buttons. I reach back to rake my nails over his hips, and twist the nipple with the piercing in it. 

He gasps, and I use the opportunity to shove my dick into his mouth. 

As much as he tried to play at being dominant, he still loves having a dick in his mouth, and after only two shallow thrusts of my hips he starts sucking.

He moans around my dick even more wantonly than when he was rubbing himself against the vibrator inside of me. 

With how much he teased me and with the noises he's making I won't last long. 

When he starts licking along my dick it's over. 

My grip in his hair tightens to a degree that must hurt, and I press his face firmly into my crotch, hips twitching forward with my orgasm, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by any of that and just keeps sucking. 

Another flick of his tongue over my dick has me screaming again, and I fall forward, letting go of his hair to support myself on the sofa above him instead. 

He keeps licking and sucking until it becomes painful on my overstimulated dick and I have to pull back. 

When I look down at him I want to fuck him again immediately, with his wild hair, flushed face, swollen lips, and moisture glistening around his mouth. 

But I am still overstimulated, and he has a tired and satisfied look on his face, so I settle for scooting back down the sofa and stretching out beside him, wrapping an arm around him and kissing him deeply.

My hand glides over the plane of his back and his hip, nails lightly teasing his skin, properly touching him for the first time since all of this started. 

Our tongues languidly slide over each other, and I start sucking and nibbling on his lower lip. 

He reaches up to pinch my nipple, making me gasp and pull him closer to me. 

After making out for a short while he pushes on my shoulder, and I reluctantly stop kissing him and back off a bit, looking at him expectantly.

His hands wander all over my chest and shoulders, his head lowers to lick and bite along my throat, and despite just coming I feel myself getting horny again. 

He rolls me onto my back and gets on top of me, straddling my hips. I reach for him, but before I can get there he finishes the movement, getting to his feet next to the sofa, and starts looking for his clothes. 

“I'm gonna go for a fag.”

[flyingsquirrely]

When the Third Wheel Strikes Back is a pretty great novel!

Having finally caught up with the most recent chapters of the TWSB webnovel, I can say with full confidence that my 3 week struggle with MTL for 600+ chapters was absolutely worth it. (google translate has come far, but hooo my god not far enough) I may have only understood what was going on half the time, but I still found myself 🥺ing and/or laughing every chapter (except for the ones I was crying at, you know how it goes).

[mild spoilers for chapters not yet TLed by EAP under the cut, nothing plot related]

The novel spends SO much time developing relationships between so many characters and I'm eternally grateful for it. There were a number of characters that I was ambivalent towards at the point where the fan translation is that I'm now fully invested in because so much time is dedicated to weaving them into each other's lives and character development. Our dear protagonist Yeseo might be at the center of the web, but the novel ties plenty of other characters together, too (particularly Christelle, every single one of her relationships is amazing). I wish I could list moments from every relationship that I love, but we'd be here all day.

The novel also gives the characters chances to rest, which is something that I really value in stories. There's always a few chapters in every arc letting the characters take a breath, pause to plan, goof around, or chat with each other in a lower stress environment. There's even time for some of them to start therapy and show that therapy is a normal part of the world (maybe one day one or more of the air paladins can be convinced to go to therapy? we can dream).

And the humor?? Spot on. I'm sure I missed a lot of it by virtue of MTL, but the situational humor, which I suspect was what I caught the most of, was still fantastic. Johann cheerfully explaining that the squad decided to take an opportunity for a nap after purposefully getting caught in net traps, Yeseo casually using Jibril to recreate modern electrical devices, François inventing magical child leashes so Johann can keep the main characters from wandering off, Tithé's main divine power use being Surprisingly Useful Fish Creation, Christelle getting Yeseo a pirate ship as a "souvenir"... okay the last one's been translated already but it's my favorite scene, I can't NOT mention it. Anyway, the list goes on and it's physically paining me not to add more to it.

This is all to say that I really love this novel lots and the sheer amount of love and humor Sookym puts into it shines through even the most questionable of translations. Also, bless EAP for their actual human translations, without which I would have been so lost.

[spinallyspiraling]

Inbox me or comment and let's discuss this

It's weird, who I am makes me feel like it's mandatory to chase the ineffable yet the ineffable is the scariest concept, idea, and truth to contemplate and experience. I rise a lot and fall almost the same amount as I rise because nothing is known about rising after one has already received 777. (Lightning Flash of creation, flaming sword, etc.)

It's not a commitment issue because I want to be my best self and not any version of me that is negative to the world at all. Having these ideas keeps my heart pure, but in total truth, I have no idea of what to expect. In limited knowledge, I momentarily run back to what I know. When I ascend to a new height, even though I can never return to the same level or depth as before, the pendulum is swinging towards the monad and the pineal gland. Upwards flows the current, so I drift up into the unknown that is inescapable. The energy dissipates from the pendulum every time gravity takes a stab so the pendulum is more in death with every swing instead of more than life... In over analyzing the process, I can't help myself by shaking the pulsating and inflamed question; "Will I totally lose myself?"

In some way aren't we all supplanted by all we know, think, and experience anyways right? What if you in time were

to be replaced with something that wasn't you? Would you yourself pray for a replacement version of you that creates the peace God also wants for you or would you pray for a version of you that ruthlessly subtracts the population? Society in their religious memberships become subservient to one narrative anyways so when one observes the options wouldn't either option have to be a Christ regardless of what wing it resides? God is pleased with all of his creation when he performs his will for it. This makes God happy. (look for this in your Bible as I reworded it entirely) Maybe God needed the Revelations chapter of the Bible. When one gets critical of it all why does it nag as a question, "Why even give the word of your mouth, the chapter Revelations to the Prophets anyways?" If the Bible is your word and you uphold the first and the last, you have the power to create a paradise with you and your son, yet you gave the prophet who wrote Revelations an antichrist and a devil who came to be in command and control of the world and it's government. If God had Revelations written then wasn't his will technically to decimate the world's population by more than 90%, to establish such a low human populace, and first of all give the Devil and the antichrist any power to begin with? There will be a time when God and his son return in flesh, in astral, hell; only God knows what form. Their arrival would mean world peace and everlasting life. Wouldn't the side of good and evil both be absolved since revelations and the rest of the Bible was his word and even his will? There are either four or seven crowned princes of hell, therefore it must be that God is pleased by those who perform his will. If those who act poorly yet were fated to do such as a way to ensure other parts of your word to be completed would they or would they not even be rewarded as opposed to condemned? It is said when Judas hung himself that a demon came and cut a reincarnation out of the belly or his lower intestine. Judas was allowed to become the Devil. God loved Judas and even Judas was the favorite of Jesus. Judas had to do his dirt so God could openly give the world the Tav or the Tau which is a cross and his covenant to his people. Wouldn't all of the aforementioned information indicate that a crowned prince of hell who was evil in the eyes of the world have exaltation rather than a torturous and famished afterlife? Jesus even said at the last supper that everyone was his friend except one of them who was the Devil.

Rising up could eventually render someone's awareness to fade out and to be supplanted with something that wasn't God's light. The opposite could be on the other side of the Kundalini once the ionization has reached 33 two times. The fear and the worry is all stemming from desire to be the best expression of self to the possibility of becoming the or an Antichrist. Maybe God's plan was to fulfill a need for a small population so the few could live forever and pose no threat to the world at all; whether it be the atmosphere, the oceans, or even beyond the atmosphere. Surely God's will would be to null, reduce, and eradicate all life that failed to even try to fathom his existence or those who were seen as unworthy of an eternity with his presence. Why would a God who has wrath, judgement, and vengeance give love and acceptance to someone who dismissed him or didn't care to commune or find him at all? The only evil is willful ignorance in the face of Knowledge. Science even says adapt/evolve or die. God wants to be known and even the "evil" exists to ensure the arrival of his word complete. God is an all consuming fire so wouldn't the kundalini fire result in God's word being fulfilled even if one received the Devil at the top of the tree on the second ascent? In Matthew it even says God's son came as a sword even though they expected him to come as peace. The second coming is said to descend down into flesh but the antichrist is said to ascend out of the pit upwards. How would evil result in my kundalini ascending out of the body and upwards into the monad? God is the Monad. The first rising creates the lightning flash that gives man the Christ within so even if a second rising creates an Antichrist wouldn't it be God's will since it occurred by traversing the tree back into the Monad which is God?

It is said that the lifting of the serpent saved the Jews and was called the Brazen Serpent. In the bible it also says the Son of Man needs to be lifted up. So why would Revelations then further dictate that the Antichrist ascended and went upwards from the pit when the Brazen Serpent and the Son of Man needed to be lifted?

[cextra-loz]

Went outside to cover the squash. I briefly looked over to the neighbor's yard cause I saw something moving in my peripheral, and I in my horror, saw his wife in a bikini just gardening or tanning, I have no clue.

Anyway, i'm heading over rn and knocking on his door to apologize, i'm gonna bow and kiss his feet and beg for forgiveness and cry and ball until I pass out on his threshold because his wife was tanning, and I accidentally saw. Mb In other news I usually only stay like 5-15 minutes outside usually once a day but i've been doing it almost every day for a few weeks now and I have a visible tan line. My feet are marked like where I wear my sandals its so funny. Its barely visible but its a tan, and I haven't had a tan in like 5 years this is amazing! In other other news, i've been lifting a 5lb dumbbell for a few months and i'm seeing visible gains and i'm not even jokn. I don't lift, i've never lifted, but i'm getting stronger and my arms have been feeling bulkier (with little to no visible change) but I can literally feel it, its like my muscles are swolier, swollen, pumped idk?

For a while I thought I wouldn't be able to make progressive gains because of how ill my body is, but I guess my nervous and muscular system is still good enough to adapt and repair itself as long as I don't over do it.

I am at my peak age like physically, so i'm going to take this new understanding of my body to get back in shape somehow. I can't technically work out like how I did in college because of my weak ass heart and nervous system, but if I stay consistent for weeks or months at a time, I should see small but progressive gains. I just have no idea up until what point will my body adapt but extra strength and endurance surely helps. I've been hearing and reading online about the stories of the human body and how amazing it is. Like the body's ability to withstand incredible amounts of heat or cold or go hungry or repair itself or deal with illness, for short periods of time. I mean my body can't do any of those things but knowing those stories gives me the courage to push myself just a little more because I know my body can probably just take a little bit more. Safely of course but still it's just something I've been thinking about recently.

Now I just have to somehow work on lower body. It's a little difficult because I can't stand for that long, and when I do stand and walk around to get food or water I do not want to be tired or shaking, but i'll figure something out.

If I get buff in the next 12 months i'll let y'all know.

I have to figure out how to do more cardio. I've been trying to keep my heart rate up for more than a minute at a time but I just get so so tired and I never want to do it more than twice because i'll just be out of it for the rest of the day I just can't yet i'm still too like weak- but I think if I do the same thing with my heart as i'm doing with the 5lb dumbbells I should see cardio improvement over time. I'm really excited to work out my heart! Just like, a little bit at a time. That part of me probably just heals with time ig idk.

[lastoneout]

This is actually part of why I think dignity of risk and informed consent absolutely needs to include what I like to call the right to give up.

I've spent the better part of my entire 20s trying as hard as I can to "get better" and you know what happened? I expanded my mobility a bit, I have slightly more energy, I feel calmer and happier because I enjoy what little exercise I can actually do. But I didn't "get better" in the way I needed to. I cannot go to school, I can't work, I have to choose between chores and errands most days, if I push myself too hard I crash sometimes for days at a time, and I'm never, NEVER lower than a 4 on the pain scale.

And like, I've met so many doctors who, when I explained that I needed more help with my condition because despite spending literally ALL OF MY FREE TIME on taking care of myself and working on "getting better" I legit cannot do anything fun or social or get a job or go to school due to my pain, fully acted like I have some sort of moral obligation to continue to focus all of my time and energy on "getting better" and so long as I'm doing that it doesn't actually matter that my life is nearly completely devoid of things that make it worth living. I would bring up mobility aids and they would balk, insisting it would make me "worse"(whatever the fuck that means at this point), and continue to push me to go to physical therapy 3 times a week and keep trying different meds and meditation and acupuncture and acupressure and mindfulness and just pushing myself harder and and a ton of other things that for various reasons don't work or would have too many downsides to be worth it to lower my pain. It didn't matter that I swore up and down I would keep going to PT and only use the wheelchair when I really needed it, the slight possibility of maybe having my mobility restricted just a bit more is enough for them to tell me I should not have a life outside of managing my illnesses.

What's even worse is that what's causing my pain, hEDS and fibromyalgia, are both life-long degenerative conditions that have no cure. I will never "get better". No amount of pain meds and PT is ever going to give me back the mobility I had before things got bad. But EVEN THEN, apparently managing my condition is all that matters, not getting to spend what time I have doing things that make me happy.

I did finally get approved for a wheelchair thanks to my new primary who used to work at an hEDS clinic and was fully sympathetic to me being allowed to live my fucking life, and after that I was talking to my mom who's been in a wheelchair since she was 13 and she said "You know, my range of motion and ability to walk did get a little worse after I got my chair, but what I could do in the chair was so much more than I could ever do without it, and that I think if you want to sacrifice a bit of mobility for being able to do things that make you happy, you should be trusted to make that choice." and she's fucking right!! I don't care if it's a little harder for me to walk around inside my house if I can finally go to school and hang out with my family and run errands and go on walks with my fiance!! Trying to "get better" is fucking exhausting and I truly, 100% believe that people who are disabled should be allowed to give up if we want, especially if it will make it easier for us to do things that are fun and fulfilling.

So yeah, tbh if "getting better" is too hard, if you're sacrificing all the things that make you happy for minuscule returns, if you're just fucking tired and want things to be a little easier, then you should have that option. I never should have had to wait this long for a wheelchair, doctor's should have fucking listened when I broke down sobbing in their offices about how I can't even go clothes shopping or get coffee with my mom and physical therapy isn't helping and I don't care about being healthy if it means I have to give up my entire life for the rest of my life for the slim chance of maybe getting like halfway there. I am a grown ass adult and I should be allowed to decide on my own when enough is fucking enough. (Also, it's kinda hard to want to get better when you like. Don't get to see your family or do fun things. Kinda inhumane to withhold basic human needs like community and entertainment until someone "tries to get better" like fuck off with that.)

We deserve informed consent, dignity of risk, and the right to fucking give up when we decide the cost of "getting better" is too high. Health =/= morality, there is no nobility in suffering, if you're tired of toiling you're not lazy or ungrateful, you're just tired. And you should be allowed to rest, even if it means getting worse or needing more help.

You know what? It’s fucking hard trying to get better. It’s exhausting managing doctors appointments, doing daily PT exercises, eating better, trying to exercise, trying to meditate, and doing ADL’s. I have had a bad crash per week trying to juggle and do all of the above.

It’s easier and less acutely painful to just coast and not actively work on ‘getting better’. Is the work worth it? I don’t know yet.

But to people who’ve tried and given up, to those who don’t even bother - you still deserve care and compassion.

[doctor-badadvice]

I could be starting this by saying "Here we go again" but that would imply a precedent. Since I'm here to complain, I can address for a bit the other cartoon I never mention on here.

When Rise was first announced, I looked at the artstyle and said no. When I was being recommended to watch the show "for the plot" I said no. When I finally watched the first episode and found everything and everyone to be incredibly unpleasant and annoying, I said no once again and never came back.

Because that's a thing that we can do. Why didn't I do that again this time? Because I was mighty bored last week.

But mainly, I had the time to waste taking to the seas to watch ten episodes of twelve, until said seas dried up and went offline because the policeman is always watching. I told myself "Surely Tales can't be as bad as Rise, right? They're milking the '87 show again, they have to do the bare minimum to be watchable, right?" And I was correct. They didn't go past the basics (which mainly means not making Donatello an arrogant piece of shit but don't think I like this one much more either after that left brain/right brain bit) and it's so devoid of any charm it felt like a gaming journalist wrote for the show.

So before I fully descend into madness and start sounding even more like Caddicarus, I'll just sum up my gripes with the show so I can then focus on what I actually want to talk about.

TL;DR Tales of the TMNT is Nickelodeon's third attempt at making a TMNT show whose only achievement is making the 2012 show look better because the bar has somehow been lowered even more than that and it keeps descending. I dislike the visuals, the voices, whatever passes for plot and dialogue, the way it treats the characters and it made me forget what laughing feels like.

Fuck this show. Now for the meaningful stuff.

This isn't even good for the promotional material

I'm just going to go on about things I've noticed while watching.

There's a feeling I've been unable to shake off since Mutant Mayhem was first shown: for some reason, they decided that TMNT had to look like something else. I didn't watch the movie because of the ungodly amount of references that would have made understanding anything the say a chore, but also because, to me, it looked like it was drawn using moldy crayons. I'm sure everybody else liked it, I think it's about time we put Spiderverse on the high shelf so the industry has to try literally anything else.

So, the show is animated this way because it's supposed to be Leonardo's comic (the second half isn't but shush). You'd think this meant we'd get some closeups and cool camera angles but instead we have a choppy storyboard with no lip syncing whatsoever with random bouts of fluid animation that only end up looking even more awkward than the rest. The action scenes are unenjoyable due to them having been left at keyframe stage and generally speaking, the choreography is really nothing to write home about.

I still won't pay any attention to anything that gives Donatello nerd glasses because fuck Michael Bay specifically and Raphael has been reduced to an orc barbarian again, while Leonardo doesn't even look like he belongs in the same show as the others. In many shots he actually looks more like an '87 Leo redraw from any of the crossovers because his design didn't receive any of the ugly "improvements" they're so bent on adding these days. Half of the mutant cousins are revolting while the others would look fine (and also get handled better) in Deltarune. Oh, and Master Splinter has been turned into a meme again because imagine having a single adult character with some dignity in a Nick show.

If I already wasn't having a good time looking at this, listening to it ended up being just as bad. Either you're subjected to the most generic background music or it's empty church quiet. The brand new soundtrack for this brand new show is just as bad and I can't for the life of me remember any of it, which is always a good sign.

I'm going to actually spend a minute here to talk about the voice acting. It might be technically decent, but none of the characters sound like they belong. The turtles sound like actors in the recording studio reading lines so much I was expecting to hear a laughing track most of the time, or for Velma to show up. Splinter isn't allowed to speak normally anymore because his VA would be too expensive, and April sounds like she doesn't even want to be in her own show.

Oh, and Rod is a curse upon humanity in every way. Please delete him before Jar Jar Binks shows up to hang out with his long lost cousin.

Lots of potential, not a single risk taken

Am I going to nitpick a show for kids? Why yes, given it's also marketed at adults with money to spend on toys. They're quite terrible, by the way. It's like they took their time to select the most unpleasant shades of green ever.

In any case, let's talk about the writing. It can be best described in one word: padding. The turtles exist in the same scenes in maybe two or three episodes, otherwise each episode is about a single turtle fucking around somewhere almost getting someone killed in the process. Both tales could be easily resolved in a couple of two-parter episodes but that would have required spending five minutes on worldbuilding to make the city feel alive in any way in the remaining episodes. It's just so much easier to bank off the movie.

The fact I have to do homework to watch a show obviously pleases me greatly too, of course. But I'm sure nothing of value was lost since everything happens in a vacuum anyway. What do they do with all this extra time, then?

They repeat the same plot points and jokes over and over, sometimes even multiple times in the same damn episode. Unfortunately, saying it again and louder doesn't make any of the jokes funny (and I specifically don't want to see someone get sick in the stomach or straight up vomit eight fucking times). The turtles are always off with some forcefully goofy non-turtle character who will be making noises or petty remarks such as "Oh, this is goofy. That didn't just happen. I'm so scawed, do something. Why aren't you solving this problem with your smartphone?"

Every episode has a pop culture reference, because I guess we needed the turtles going to school and watching Star Wars will make them more relatable, but it only serves as a reminder that you could be off watching anything else.

And with the mess Paramount did of Star Trek in recent years, they don't get to make fun of Enterprise. Archer faced off time traveling alien nazis which is way more ambitious than anything shown here.

Stuff has been recycled. Raphael doing the Batman bit was underwhelming when Michael Bay did it and it's just as insignificant ten years later. Donatello gets a spring staff for five minutes in one episode again, then it's gone forever because I guess the writers just really need to empathize that wood isn't very good at slicing like metal. Michelangelo is the group's nitwit because every group in a Nick show needs an idiot to make fun of to the point of being cruel, and Leonardo… Well, he has anxiety, I guess.

April calls herself a "journalist" but feels more like that influencer kid from Megamind 2. All the adult men are stupid and/or annoyingly useless and all the adult women manage something but also get so little attention, because we haven't cracked a joke in ten seconds, that their characterization is as deep as a piece of paper. Also Barnie is there. I'm sure everybody missed that guy.

Adding to that, they're strictly checking off points from a list to get through the episode. You just know what's going to happen next because they don't even change up the order a bit. No risk is taken ever. The supposed theme of the show, some generic "family matters" bullshit, is so diluted you hardly notice and the handholding is so strong you bet every single villain is just going to be a poor misunderstood sad bean who did nothing wrong UwU.

But I'll get back to this in a moment.

The problem with Nickelodeon

There's a few topics I specifically left out so far. The fact you don't see a lot of ninja out of these turtles but only endless teen commentary. The way it's essentially a sin to be smart and completely useless because violence is the answer. How April is being reduced once again to being the assigned mother of the turtles and the fucking love interest of one of them. The constant push to make anybody relatable because god forbid people find interest in the story of somebody unlike them. The fact nothing feels real because the funny takes priority over atmosphere and storytelling so not even the generic pep talks matter.

But that's classic Nickelodeon (and classic Paramount), isn't it? They can't make a good Spongebob episode these days, you bet they can't make something that passes for an acceptable action show. Overall, watching Tales of the TMNT brings nothing to the table. It's a generic kids show with a brand attached. They're going through the motions but there is no heart. The turtles have been placed in such neat little boxes that they end up being more generic than when they didn't have accessories, or different shapes, or were constantly rambling about pizza, and they even treat each other as walking tropes.

It's so obsessed with being marketable that everywhere you look, your mind goes "Ah, it's just like that other thing" when it shouldn't be this way. TMNT has the rare gift of being able to get weird and still make sense when properly handled.

But that isn't the case when show is too scared to even show real gangsters so I guess it'll be gone in a couple of seasons again.

One last note on Bishop

Because I’m a biased party. There was no need to call her Bishop. Even when you take away the man in black, the character at its core is someone with a Machiavellian drive who's looking at the bigger picture, prioritizing the end over the means, who's ready to go against the rules and even risk subverting the order of things they too benefit from if the result is deemed worthy of the risk (something that applies to 2012 Bishop too, actually). This Bishop, on the other hand, is just annoyed the turtles were there when a mutant messed with her lab and her employer is too rich and white to care about her sad backstory.

Truth be told, I got the impression they panicked upon realizing Baxter is dead in this universe and just kinda slapped three characters together in one to make up for it.

In practice, she's a wannabe Yzma without even a good Kronk to go with to make watching their antics worth the while.