#but it was a fun exercise nonetheless

[puella-1n-somn10]

having an absolute dogshit day, but i got a doppel concept done, even if it is the first draft and a means to vent-

[drakkonyan]

facade

[protect-namine]

you know, I think neji would enjoy playing dnd. getting to write stories and play characters with no limitations, and having to improv with the other players because he would never have full control of where the story was headed? it would be a dream come true, and also therapeutic. neji would of course be the dm who would "yes and" anything his players want to do. the story would be something everyone has input on and would help shape. an adventure that neji himself couldn't predict or write on his own. also, just imagine him describing his setting and doing all his character voices, he'd love that so much

I think it would be a good exercise for quartz too, because they'd have to make their own characters and backstories and roleplay in character without a script to direct them. especially to kisa "transparent vessel" tachibana, who can act out any character but is afraid of letting herself be seen through them. similarly, kai as well, since he'd be in charge of his own character instead of propping someone else up

on the flip side, fumi would get to enjoy playing a character but not having the pressure to be the lead/spotlight of a story. he's there to play, not perform

sou would also LOVE dnd. I think he'd be really into the character creation and lore, and is probably the next person I can think of who can try being the dm when neji is sick/tired/wants to be a player. he's the player who takes down notes and remembers one small detail neji mentioned four sessions ago that becomes relevant to the current session. neji loves him because sou is the one who appreciates his world building the most

suzu and fumi would instigate so much in the adventure, which neji would love. suzu makes a character everyone loves (like hachipochi) and always brings snacks to the table

fumi has read all of the player handbook, and mitsuki has read maybe a quarter of it (only the relevant parts to his character and how some dice rolls and combat work). mitsuki is also the one who doesn't put much effort into his character's backstory but unexpectedly gets big character development during the adventure, surprising everyone in the table including both the dm and himself

otori is very good at both roleplaying and combat, has created a compelling character, and tries to go on solo adventures but eventually gets roped into the party because he can't adventure alone in neji's setting

[pochapal]

happy october 5, 1986 (+37)!

i do not have a full writeup done yet because i have been busy with starting my phd and contracting diseases and surviving horrors and rotating abstract concepts in my mind etc etc etc but what i do have is a hot off the press raw and rough preview of the chapter 14 writeup to share with you all in order to celebrate umineko day in some form regardless.

so, on this day of slaughter i am sharing with you a small slice of my writeup: the 3rd and 4th twilights that could have been had chapter 14 decided not to go crazy go stupid with it. i hope this is a tasty appetizer to satiate everybody as i continue to work on bringing the full writeup to completion.

happy umineko day and thanks to everyone for supporting the liveblog so far! <3

[...] This leads you to an immediate conclusion: Kanon dying in the basement boiler room was not part of the plan. Or, not part of the Witch Narrative at least. His death marks a point where this scheme has totally gone off the rails, and Genji’s script has been rendered worthless. The presentation of the death is obfuscated, but the truth beneath it is that something went deeply wrong that shouldn’t have.

This is a bold claim I’m making, but I also think I have enough proof in the story to substantiate it. I think, going by everything, the next incident following the deaths of Eva and Hideyoshi was to involve the basement in one form or another. I also think that this was being prepared in parallel with the Second Twilight – Genji and Nanjo leave the kitchen at the same time as Kanon and Kumasawa, but the two men don’t reach the scene until after Kanon has already unlocked the room and Eva and Hideyoshi have been found dead with the stakes in their skulls. Enough time to, say, take a trip down to the basement and set some dominoes in motion.

As to what I think was part of the Witch Narrative, I think everything was on track right up until the moment Kanon set foot in the basement. The foul smell filling the hallway was almost certainly set in motion by Genji and/or Nanjo (perhaps by turning on the boiler while Eva and Hideyoshi were being found in order to time it to make the smell the strongest at the perfect time – this may also have precluded moving Kinzo’s body there depending on where he was before now). Kanon acting bizarrely freaked out was part of the plan. As was Kumasawa screaming about hearing a noise, and the two of them breaking off from the group to rush ahead to investigate. Everything falls apart when Kanon sets foot in the basement and Beatrice shows up and he dies.

So what was the intended plan in the basement involving Kinzo? I think, if I were to hazard a guess based off pre-existing patterns, the boiler room in the basement was going to be used as another locked room, this time featuring Kinzo. I think this would have been a play in two acts. The first act would have Kanon and Kumasawa chase the noise to the basement and “find” the head’s ring on the ground. The family would search the boiler room and find the back door exit locked up, and no sign of Kinzo anywhere in sight (there would be efforts taken to keep anyone from investigating the boiler). The ring alone on the ground in an empty room would stand in for the Third Twilight – Kinzo is without his headship and authority, so it must therefore fall to everyone to praise Beatrice’s noble name in his stead. Dissatisfied and creeped out, everyone leaves the basement – the back door is locked from the inside, and the front door locked with a key placed in Natsuhi’s possession.

From here, this would likely have led to another discussion chapter about how the ring got there. The setup of the scene would be enough that Battler would question whether or not a nineteenth person placed the ring there, or if Kinzo himself actually dropped it there as part of some other ploy. The servants would be questioned and swear up and down there was nobody else in the basement when they entered. The sound would be discussed, as would the impossibility that anybody known to be alive could make that noise. The conversation would then turn to Kinzo as the likely suspect and Natsuhi, who’s been complicit in covering up Kinzo’s death for some time already, would start sweating as this truth grows closer to being uncovered. It’s up in the air as to whether or not the servants would help or hinder Natsuhi here, but I think it’s likely Battler would have started to think on Eva’s words from earlier. More fuel on the Natsuhi culprit fire that she can’t fight because she can’t admit to knowing what he knows. Maria would then laugh and go witchmode and say to everyone that this is obviously Beatrice manipulating things with her magic, and boom, scene.

Something would then happen in the next chapter to turn attention back to the boiler room. Perhaps the smell grows stronger. Perhaps the conversation about Kinzo grows to a fever pitch. Perhaps a servant fakes hearing another noise from the basement. Whatever the case, we would return to the boiler room a second time. There would be a point made of showing Natsuhi pulling out the only key to the boiler room and everyone stepping inside to find Kinzo’s body on the floor, burned up with an icepick stake in his forehead. The inner lock for the back door would still be set. Genji and Nanjo would confirm the body’s identity via the polydactyly. Somehow, Kinzo’s dead body appeared in the middle of a perfectly locked room.

Likely there would then be discussions of who could have killed Kinzo, given that at the time of his “death” everyone was yet again together (minus Kanon/Genji slipping in and out of the parlor to get food and drinks). The assumption would be that Kinzo was alive in there all along, and then killed himself for some reason – contradicted by the fact that if he launched himself into the boiler, how did he drag himself back out into the middle of the floor? The mystery would stump Battler, because the only major solution would be to assume a nineteenth person was also already hiding in the locked basement, and killed Kinzo and displayed the corpse, but Battler would chessboard himself out of leaning on that option. Out of options and stumped, we would stay at another stalemate where there’s no proof that Beatrice exists, but no way that the surviving humans could have set up this scene (there are of course ways, such as a back door that wasn’t really locked or a second key/master key with which to return to the boiler room and set things up, but nobody will think of them). The horrors would escalate. The Witch Narrative would persist. And so on. And so on.

This scenario, believable as it is, never came to happen. Instead we got what we got, and we need to figure out why. Why did Kinzo show up like this? Why did Kanon die, despite all known logic and reasoning stating that the contrary would be ideal? Why are things speeding up at such an exponential rate? What on earth is actually going on?

[sins-of-the-sea]

Dash Game: Muse Interview

What is your name?

"Rashid al-Qadar ibn Zahid. Just Rashid will do. I am sometimes called by my nickname 'Jinni', given to me by my crewmate Wang Ruixiong."

Do you know why you’re here?

"Because I sold my soul to a bogus pact I cannot back out of no matter what I try. So I just do my best to not think about my immortality or the fact I am tasked to eternally steal souls at the behest of my Master, lest I relive the worst moments of my life as my personal Jahannam."

Do you have any family?

"Father, my birth mother, my father's other wives, and countless siblings I have no recollection of because of some issue I was never aware of growing up. On my own end, I once had a wife and a son, and that son has progeny I can confirm by three generations."

What did you last have for breakfast?

"Hmm, let's see. Coffee, eggs, chicken, beef, fish, hummus, dates, banana masoub, labneh, nuts, and a little bit of yogurt."

What do you last have for lunch?

"Mmm, kabsa with lamb, jareesh, tamees, and then I also had some polenta, congee, hulatang, and buñuelos."

What did you last have for Dinner?

"Thareed, saleeg, an original tomato-onion-fish stew Giovanni created, honey garlic chicken, crunchy pickled salad, couscous, and some baklava and sufganiyot.

"…..What? Yes, that was what I ate in one day, why are you all looking at me like that? Do you know which of the Christian Seven Deadly Sins I represent???"

How old are you?

"Forty-five when I sold my soul. As of this current date of writing, I would be 447 years old."

Do you have any friends?

"Outside of the Crew? Not really…"

Are you more comfortable by yourself or surrounded by others?

"I would love to be surrounded by others. The Master ensures that shall not happen as long as they are not bound to him."

Do you have any hobbies?

"I mostly read. I travel. I try to seek out global news and events, be it in trade and business or just anything else happening. I also like sports, either playing or watching. Football especially."

Do you have any aspirations or dreams?

"Hah. I ate them in 1621."

Are you quick to anger?

"No. Count your blessings, however. I am not one you want to anger thoughtlessly."

Can you dance?

"Sure. Have you heard of al ardah?"

Do you prefer casual or stylish wear?

"Have you not heard of stylish casual?"

Can you lift?

"Mhm. Heaviest I deadlifted was roughly 400 kilos."

Do you play games?

"Does chess count? I don't really play video games unless it's some sort of game that can be enjoyed in a party."

Are there any parts of your past self that you’re ashamed of?

"I still never found out why my wife ran away from home. And I wish I can take back what I said to my son to get me exiled from home."

Can you tell us a joke?

"Me! I'm a joke."

Is there anything you’d like to say before we wrap things up?

"What are you wrapping? Shawarma? There is a shop I recommend from this family of immigrants, their chicken marinade and garlic sauce is to die for~."

.

Stolen from: @thesafaribaggirl-returns Tagging: SLAPS YOU

[0x-hazel]

mi: sina pakala e ma sike tan seme?

jan pi ma ante: tan ni; jan li pilin e ni: ona li wile ala toki kepeken ante pi toki Inli

mi: ni li lon. mi pilin sama

me: why are you destroying earth!!!

aliens: because theres people who think that english is the only language they need to speak

me: thats fair i understand

[wiitchkins]

hi I went a little nuts about the new marinette design and came up with like 15 alternatives.

my initial goal was to come up with a. “””better”””” design, while still adhering to what seem to be the show’s limitations.

*Core Idea* Try to keep her design recognizably “Marinette” as depicted in the show. Anyway lemme know what your favs are thanks

some vague guidelines I made for myself below.

1. Black outerwear, white shirt, pink shorts/pants. (Color palette revolves around the black/pink/white palette, the new design shows her with tights of some kind so we can play with that a bit more. Shoes we can be a bit creative with.)

2. Keep it “age appropriate” per the G rating / 8-13 intended audience. This is vague but mostly just avoiding things that are too trendy or showing “too much” skin- to be clear I don’t have a personal problem with that but we’re playing by the shows rules for teens. Pretending I have an exec to pitch these to.

3. It seems like the show has pretty limited fabric sim - keeping the silhouette close to the model, can’t really have loose fabric, boxy/oversized fits or super unique/specific textures (knit vs leather can probably be implied but don’t expect too much accurate detail)

Please ignore that I drew 3 purse designs. I don't have strong feelings about them.

Some of these designs I think are pretty basic and mid, a couple I really like, and some I think are a bit unrealistic. fun exercise nonetheless.

[ynbabe]

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

[risestarkiss]

Strength

Rise Ramblings #565

While watching the show, I realized that we don’t really get to see the boys’ true strength very often. Yes, we see their Ninpo at work, especially towards the end of the series, but I believe that outside of their Ninpo there is so much more to these boys than meets the eye.  

When thinking about raw strength, it’s easy to say something like “Yeah, Raph is the strongest.” And for good reason...

He is the one that works out the most.

His build is the largest and the most intimidating.

Often times we see him picking up, carrying, or tossing his brothers around, no problem.

And that’s why this big guy gives the best hugs.

But the main reason why he's seen as the strongest is because he’s the one generally seen picking up the most impossibly heavy objects.

Although, he does have his limits.

Yes, Raph is the strongest, but that does not negate the strength of the rest of the bros.

The physical abilities of the other three are nothing to sneeze at, especially since they were all originally created to be weapons. (See “What Was Meant To Be” for more on that subject.)

Take Mikey for instance.

Of all of the boys, you wouldn’t think of Mikey as particularly strong, but here he is shoulder pressing one of his brothers for fun.

And flinging the boy in plum.

What about Leo? Sure, we never really see him exert himself, especially when it comes to weightlifting or exercise, but I can’t help but notice how much he tends to carry his little brother.

Furthermore, Leo doesn't just carry Mikey, but throws him around as well.

But I believe the one that low key shows off his strength the most is Purple.

(It might have something to do with his overall lack of restraint, but I digress.)

He easily carries his brother when he needs to.

And more impressively, he throws Mikey like nobody’s business using his bow staff and his own brawn.

Speaking of his staff, if this is true:

Then what do we make of this instance?

Yes, the staff was already semi-broken, but does he go on to completely demolish the titanium staff in frustration with his bare hands? (Kudos to @theaphaeon for pointing this out!)

You be the judge.

Nonetheless, for me, what really proves Donatello’s strength are these scenes:

Donnie doesn’t just carry out this feat once, but twice!

Not only does Donnie hold up the combined weight of ALL of his brothers, but he does it via one leg. For a normal person, if all of that weight was put on one leg they would be severely injured. But for Donnie, this is just a silly mode of travel with his beloved bros. Meanwhile, his jet pack is struggling under the combined weight of all four turtles...

All-in-all, I just wanted to really highlight the turtles' physical strength and remind myself that strength is not just a Raphie thing, but something that stems across all of the turtle teens.

Do you guys have any more examples of the boys being the powerful weapons they were created to be without using their Hamato Ninpo?

All comments and reblogs are welcome! 💜

[assaultmystic]

ive shared this essay on tranmisogyny and nihilism with a few friends, and then realised u might as well all have it. circa 3k words. enjoy x

Apology

The complete and systematic account of transmisogyny is, of necessity, a hopeless exercise. Abjection is the mother of the totality after all. We are talking about the constitutive incompleteness of the world, the necessary impotence, the weeping lacuna of artifice that begets all things! If we theorised the whole world, we would not speak of transmisogyny once, because it is a condition on the possibility of theory, and so must be forever excepted

So, what little that follows is a betrayal. Partial by design (to let the light in) and necessity (I am tired. I am weak.), it is a betrayal nonetheless. Nothing could fail to be. So let's be honest. To theorise transmisogyny in full would be to draw borders around its extent and its diffusion. To theorise transmisogyny in full would be to construct and fortify its privileged subject -who is and is not transmisogynised. To theorise transmisogyny in full would be to tell "the transmisogynised" what to do about it. I don't want to do any of these things, and I will fail. There is no conversational path into discussion of what's possible that does not foreclose some options. We, the disinherited, conduct our peculiar miracle by fleeing down paths others cannot even see. So, take what you like and laugh when I give away my limits. Have fun.

Preliminaries

All of this is play, everything is. Nothing really matters. The real, in fact, is a mesh of overlapping consensuses that have been built not merely incidentally, but structurally, on our expulsion. There is no serious, real, or proper way to be a tranny. In fact, it remains integral to the notion of consensus as such, and reality by extension, that we are delusional in our self-articulation, paranoid in our recognisance of our exclusion, and dangerous at the point at which we express any of this. We are thus freed to recognise everything as play, for though those involved in playing out the real have their stakes in us (though they are loathe to admit it) we are disbarred from ever really holding stakes in the real. Because that's what real means.

The enshrinement of this exclusion as unreal is both necessary for the sustaining of the real as really important, but is also absolutely critical to facilitating the social character of transmisogynisation. All affordances granted to us allow us to play, however temporarily, at admission to reality. Those on the inside know we ought to be grateful for this mercy. It is particularly advisable for those who would like more sway over consensus (those who do not see themselves as having that sway already) to let us play inside sometimes. We get cold out here. Some of us get so cold we become frozen, we forget we are playing, we become unable to move, so keen on coming in that we harden into fixed things, like those inside are. But we will know no benefit for it. Even if they wanted to, they could offer us no rewards. Whether they know it or not, it is just a game.

Each magic circle that defines with its border the games of the real is drawn in our blood. Each empire and every banner they flew. Every flag. Every cause. All of it, all of it had its stakes in us. All had to eject us. We were understood to stand for nothing. For annihilation, for nullification, for endings. The family line ends here. The revolutionary project will see no children. In fact, there only was a "we" insofar as we were taken to stand for nothing. We are unified in that we are constituted by resistance to that which ejects us from the social, every social. We are unified in this alone. The trappings of inheritance, family, reproduction, legacy, futurity. What world that is, or was, or is being built could truly love the tranny? At best they'll have us die in the shadow so that their gleaming future would shine more brightly for contrast. No. We have each other. There never was a world for us, because wherever a future was believed in we threatened it in our nihilising impotence. This keeps us vital. Keeps us dangerous. Keeps us laughing.

Strategy, or, how to play

We have no interest in talking about identity independent of conversations about strategy. The way we constitute ourselves is conversationally liquid. To rebuke a tranny for their identificatory strategy is to reproduce transmisogyny, to think you know what living her circumstances might take better than she does. We call ourselves what we need to to survive the imposition of gender upon us. Recalling our movements through the social this becomes trivially obvious. Confronted each with your boss, your local tboy callout artisan, the police, a John, your mother, your ex, the gender clinic, who wouldn't call herself what she did only as an attempt to get what she wanted? When we meet others like us then, we cannot presume they know that we would love them whatever they called themselves. They might see a cop in front of them, might see a John, might worry this'll come back around - the local scene might shun a girl for calling herself a crossdresser, even as a joke (let alone for 'real'). So can they trust you? Do you intend to make that clear? But between us, once we know we are among friends, identification is about options, about imaginative flight, about the proliferation of lifeworlds bleeding from the critical harm done to us. Because what could we stand to gain by insisting that girls cannot be faggots? That boys cannot be trannies? Every should've-been-man of us has run, by herself, the labyrinthine complex of gender as domestication. Are you going to begrudge him calling himself a sissy now, after a lifetime of living in the word's shadow? Get over it! You are being invited to play, to walk through walls! Fool that you are, you cannot see the smile on the face of the trannies you claim to love while they call themselves the things you promised yourself it was really unacceptable to be. You have lost sight of the game, and now you come back to your sisters and you ask them to sober up, to get real. After all, we have cisgenders to convince, don't you know? Real people. Why, if they heard you talking like that we'd all befucked! But they are not here. Or at least, they were not here until you started doing their work for them.

There is after all, no real identity. Or, rather, the claim to a real identity is one move among others, and holds no special weight. It is special only in that it invokes the game of the real, the inside of the magic circle, to push others out. This can be great when you are having sex and a tranny tells you that you're not a real woman like her and that you should [do what she wants] about it. Otherwise it's quite fucking boring. If it happens that the world has fallen at your feet in such a way that you find labels more personal to you, that is, they feel like more than social tools for communicating how you would like to occur to others in the world, we're glad for you. Just don't expect us to feel the same. There is nothing we really are underneath this, in fact there is no need for an underneath. What good has the legitimate, the true, the valid done for any of us?

Transmisogynisation, or, how to draw a circle

A popular school of thought sees transfemininity as intentionally performed through a succession of discrete speech acts through which one establishes a relationship with womanhood while cAMAB. More simply - we identify as trans women, or as transfeminine, and so become subject to transmisogyny. This is a hangover from a history of "born this way" queer sloganeering. That we must always have been settled on the inside, and our targetting is a matter of some transfeminine essence. It's bullshit, which is no problem, but the trouble is that it's bullshit with extremely low explanatory power.

More to the point, transmisogynisation describes a matrix of concrete social and institutional processes, through which cAMAB people may become (forcibly) disidentified with masculinity, and become a part of the gendered abject. What the prevailing model correctly understands, is that some of these transmisogynising processes can be willingly submitted to. We might choose self identification as trans woman or other locally prevailing transfemininity, working “as a woman”, engagement with legal or medical apparatus of gender. However, none of these social affordances (that are deployed by social institutions to effect the circumscription of transfemininity) are free from the potential for coercion. If we want access to any of the processes described we experience pressure to present a legible transfeminine gender identity. If you do not call yourself by the terms of the locally prevailing models of transfemininity your access to social, legal or medical affordances is immediately threatened. There is immediately a pressure to be a certain kind of tranny - the institutionally respectable kind, and this pressure weighs on our self descriptions whether we know it or not. Identity, then, is always already under pressure. What would I have called myself, if I had never had to call myself anything for the sake of estrogen, or for a job, or for community? I will never know. Neither will you. What the position outlined fails to account for at all, is that many processes of transfeminisation are straightforwardly coercive, have no choice element because they are inductive abuse. We did not choose our subjection to social practices of violent harassment and exclusion based on perceived difference, for example. Did not choose to be called faggots, sissies, or retards because of the position we were being forced into of not-a-real-man. Did not choose the rape, the beating, the manipulation that othered us from manhood, carried out in sacred silent complicity over a whole lifetime. Every cis woman ex who forced you into a feminised position of permanent care is in cahoots with your dad who hit you is in cahoots with the tboys you gave a bad vibe are in cahoots with the boys in your high school changing room are in cahoots with your rapists. There was, in fact, a conspiracy to forcibly feminise you. It just wasn't glamorous, sexy, or conscious. It doesn't make sense to speak of our transmisogynisation, then, as a matter of our personal identity so much as it does of our being identified. Target lock, y'know? Maybe something gave you away, maybe it didn't. But identifying a boy who's never gonna make it is socially critical, and you were picked. Picked so other boys could differentiate themselves from you, so girls could have you and know you weren't like other boys - they could hurt you and get away with it. So your ejection from your family could be justified. Even if none of them ever once called you a tranny, they were making one of you.

All this to say, the representational force of specific visions of transfeminity cannot be substitute for solidarity along the lines of that we are transmisogynised. Personal identification, pronouns, these things are secondary - and are no substitute for attending to the specifics of our oppression. We can call ourselves what we want, but falling behind the banner of a fixed identity category just limits our solidarity, makes us rigid, makes us easier to kill.

Theory, or, giving the game away

Transmisogyny is itself transmisogynised. Like us, our oppression is always novel, always ready finallyfor a good welcoming into the fold, always unmapped, always a great way to sell a book. Yours could be the first real, definitive, proper text on transmisogyny! Imagine! Over the past decade alone (say nothing of techniques perfected in milennia gone), round after round of coordinated harassment campaign and social media clean up have left us with a legacy of articulating ourselves over and over, hashing out the same points for each new spawning. A neotenised theory, in a forced state of arrested development. Our place in history continues to be the damnatio memoriae.

The kinds of theorisation that tend to stick around share a basic structure - they are outreach oriented, interested in engaging with a "broader" feminist or queer or historical or marxist tradition. Of course the subsumption of transmisogyny as a mere articulation, a phenomena within this or that more important, more material, more real tendency follows.Theory looks to place transmisogyny on terms that others might recognise, fixing some points of reference in order to reach a presumed shared audience. The trouble of course is that now you are looking to share points of reference, an audience, with a cisfeminist, a twerf, a "transandrophobia" spewing tboy. You might tell yourself that this is only in order that you might convince the undecided, to win new people round, so they see the natural integration of the theorisation of transmisogyny into your school of thinking.

These institutionalising desires exact costs. Foremost amongst which is the need to identify a positive transfeminine subject. The identification of this subject (presently, the sID'd transgender woman) ensures that the framework shares identifiable points of reference with rival theories of gender that emerge within hegemony, in order to more legibly engage with them. Put more simply, it makes it easier to argue with the tmra, the cisfeminist, the twerf, if everybody arguing presumes themselves to already know what we’re talking about, but to just differ in attitude. Whether she's valid, whether she's more or less privileged, whether she's really a woman. Such fun!This is the process of theorisation as marketisation - an audience after all is just a cipher for a market. All debate is in fact spectacle, safely ensconced within its academic home. Irrecognisance is complicity.

By entering into the bloodsport of theory we can endlessly defer the practicalities of articulating relations between the transmisogynised that are aware of the endless hatred the real holds for us, and avoid responding to that weaponised reality lucidly. We can foreclose the conversation about what we do, so that we can settle, once and for all who we are. Of course, whoever finds themselves on the outside of our shining new identity (once we've settled it - won't take long) will perhaps lack our enthusiasm for whatever solidarity we seek to build without them after the fact.

I'll concede that I only speak in these terms (not my own) because you are my kin, and I want to reach you. I am a hypocrite. I made my apology already. I believe in you more than I ever believed in anything real, so I'm going to let you make a hypocrite of me.

For the road, or, from the sickbed

I am tired now, and quite sick. I caught what might be the flu, or might be covid the other day. Things occur to me through a thicker haze than usual. So I am going to be presumptive and pass on some things I have learned talking with my friends, as though you’ve any need.

Pay attention to the way that transmisogynisation picks at and worries received views of agency. When girls tell you that their transness is something they affirmed, they are of course right. The same girls are also right when they talk about how this was done to them. Histories are mobile, histories are strategic. Stories we tell about ourselves are social technologies. We never have to be one thing, never have to resolve (scorn anyone who tells you otherwise), we exist with contradictions of coercion and choice. We have to. What does this mean for the possibility of the transmisogynised historical “subject”? What might we have to say about the necessary diffusion of subjectivity experienced by many like us- what kinds of politics is it incompatible with?

Pay attention to the lines along which people draw their politics. What kind of insults do they use? They are telling you who is other to them. They are telling you who they do not feel they need to answer to, and so in whom the stakes of their real will be placed, alongside you. If they speak of lazy stoners wasting their time in queer organisation instead of joining this or that political project - in my opinion, they have told you more than enough. Anarchist or otherwise. These are the lines that need to be drawn so that a politics can be defined. Those who speak this way, our kin not least, hurt themselves. They do this for a cause.

Kindness is never, ever, called for. Will never be called for. It is not politically substantial. People will tell you that kindness is radical and they are wrong. People will tell you that kindness is no part of a coherent politics - not something you ever owe and they are right. You need never be kind. This is because kindness is an excess. Kindness is an inherently unjustified and unjustifiable gesture, an overabundance of care that no politics invested in its own reproduction could ask for. When you meet trannies, I would really appreciate it if you could be kind to them.

[miirohs]

love bites [l.d.n]

pairing: Vampire!Lando Norris x GN!Reader wc: 1.5k cw: dub-con to slight non-con, this is lowkey just me being horny an: its the way this was suppose to come out in october (halloween) then on christmas (yesterday) but i went and put this off a grand total of like 5000 different times like...... the title has nothing to do with this whatsoever LOL

You were sure this wasn’t how Lando wanted to spend his night, forced to bite air as you grinned at his misery from under him, forced inches away from you despite the fact that you could freely feel him up.

It was like the air had stiffened up in the room, and despite the window being cracked open, tension between you almost seemed to mount as he tried to figure out what you’d done.

You could clearly see the sweat percolating on his bare skin with how close he was to you, forming a soft sheen in the moonlight with how hot and bothered he was becoming. His breathing was uneven, pupils blown wide even in the darkness of your room. 

It was almost endearing, save for the sharp glint of his fangs as he barely held back a snarl at your teasing. You could almost imagine what it’d feel like with him running his teeth through your neck, and you shivered at the thought.

He wasn’t happy at all, but you? Oh, you were having the time of your life with this.

"You think this is funny?" He snapped, voice rough and frayed as his eyes ran up and down your neck. He wasn’t even trying to hide his hunger, eyeing you down as if deciding what he wanted to do with you first when he got his hands on you.

“Maybe,” you stifled a snicker, unable to hide your grin as you inspected his face. “Do you like it? I think this necklace you gave me is really my favorite now.”

His muscles ticked as he glared at you, clearly unimpressed by your antics. His whole body was betraying just how much restraint he was exercising, and you were gleeful. "Fun?" he repeated, lowering his voice. "You think this is fun, I'll show you fun when I tear apart your little witch friends, whichever one of them enchanted this for you.”

You shrugged, tangling your fingers in his damp curls, pulling gently at them while he clenched his jaw. “Not my fault, I just thought it would be kind of funny to see you try. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried some of those antics earlier this week, huh?” 

For a moment, you thought he might finally snap, might try to rip it off your neck. But instead, he just let out a low laugh, earning a slight flinch from you. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He seethed. “Playing games like this. You really wanna keep testing me like this sweetheart?”

The sudden spike in his anger had you scrambling to cover, scoffing to hide your alarm. “It’s just a little fun, Lando. Plus, it’s not like you’re dying of hunger, right? You can live with this for a couple hours.”

Lando’s gaze darkened at your words, and the smile faltered on your lips as you noticed how still he’d gone. “Oh, come on, you’re not actually mad, are you Lando?” His silence was unnerving you, and you barely regained your composure as you watched him shift again, ignoring as you tapped his arm for his attention.

“Lan? Are you upset with what I did because- ” you started cautiously, your hand reaching up to fiddle with the chain.

“No, I’m not.” he murmured, voice void of the pulsing anger from before. The shift caught you off guard, and alarm bells went off at the softness he was suddenly showing, you could see the calculation in his eyes even as they moved away from you. “I could never stay mad at you, even when you’re testing my patience like you are right now, sweetheart.”

You questioned what was with the sudden change of heart, but you allowed him to lean in nonetheless, letting his lips brush against your temple in the ghost of a kiss. You barely noticed how one of his hands trailed up your body, your breath unconsciously hitching as his thumb grazed the chain.

“This thing...” he started, fingers slowly looping under the chain. “It’s really something, isn’t it? A gift for you, and you’ve gone and weaponized it. Clever girl.”

His fingers tightened around the chain, the metal digging slightly into the back of your neck as he gave an experimental tug.

“But baby,” he continued, voice dripping with honeyed venom, “you should’ve known better than to bite the hand that feeds you, yeah?”

Before you could stop him, he yanked it off, the sound of the metal snapping resounding through the air. You could see the indents of the pattern on his palm, burning him to pull it off.

You froze, mind racing at the realization of what just happened.

Lando’s smile twisted into something predatory as he tossed the broken chain to the side, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s better, isn't it?” he murmured, his fingers brushing over the freed area. “You’d think that they’d at least cast a more durable charm. This burn was barely worth all that struggle.”

You yelped when his head dipped against your neck, pressing his lips to your pulse point and scraping his fangs on the area. His teeth almost broke the skin when he stopped, hovering over the spot for a couple of moments before he stopped to look at you.

“You’re trembling. Are you scared?” you hated the fact that you could hear the layers of satisfaction dripping from his voice, smug and undefeated.

“N-no, no I'm not.” You stuttered, the heat rushing to your face as he pulled back, smirking as your eyes met.

“You sure you wanna lie to me about that baby?” he countered, teasing, “I can hear your heartbeat going crazy in there.”

“I am not scared of you,” you hissed weakly, even as you allowed him to dip back down to your neck, close for comfort. “You can’t-”

“Liar liar,” Lando coaxed mockingly. “And I'm not cruel enough to do what you thought I was going to, not unless you want me to...” He positioned himself to bite again, and you squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the jolt of pain keeping your adrenaline thrumming.

Instead, nothing came, and you jolted as he laughed in your ear.

“You know what? I’ll give you a choice if you so desperately want it.”

Your hands tightened on his forearms, keeping your eyes away from his as your nails dug into his skin. You were already mad, mad enough to let him in, what was just a little more? 

“What’s it going to be, sweetheart? You're gonna keep being stubborn?” he interrupted, the kiss on your neck sending jolts of electricity through your body. “Just say the word, or I’ll make that choice for you.”

You didn’t respond, clenching your jaw even as he forced you to look at him, pulling you flush up against him. Your resolve was wavering and he saw it, clear as day.

“I see,” he said finally, his response dripping with mock disappointment. “You’re gonna make it work for it. Have it your way then.”

He sank his teeth into your neck not even seconds later.

The pain was white-hot, spreading through your body, and eventually replaced by warmth radiating from the bite area. Your heartbeat, erratic as it was, slowly started to calm down as well. It was like moving in molasses, fever pitch draining you of energy. The rush of relief from the burn was dizzying, though your nerves were buzzing from the shock all the same. 

He’d pulled back enough to give you a glance, breath warm against the puncture marks. You flinched at the sensation, a small whimper escaping your mouth as he tried to shush you.

“Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, tilting your neck and exposing it further. "I’ve got you, just relax."

You felt his words before you could process them, a swipe of his tongue over the wound. However, it just made your head reel, caught by the confusion at what he was doing.

“What are you doing?” You blurted out, trying to meet his shameless eyes even when he pushed your head back to gain access to your neck.

“Cleaning up,” he replied, continuing to smooth over the ache, “Wouldn’t want this to be a mess.” 

“God, you’re relentless,” you hissed, jolting back from the sensation. “And you’re not a cat either, so stop licking me like that.”

“Are you sure you really want me to stop? I’m starting to think you might actually like it when I get this close. You sure as hell make it easy for me, if nothing else.” He shrugged, pausing for a moment almost as if inspecting his work.

You glared at him and he ignored it, dipping back down to nip at your shoulder. You hit him, startled by his brazen behavior. Although at this point, you fully expected it from him. Lando pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “See? I knew it,” he cackled. “You really are into it. Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?”

“You are insufferable,” you fumed, “in-fucking-sufferable.”

“Maybe,” he replied nonchalantly, leaning in to meet your eyes this time. “But you love it. Admit it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat rising in the back of your neck told him everything.

“I’ll take that as a yes, you know it’s a part of my charm, don’t you?”

You hated that he wasn’t entirely wrong.

[bleucalire]

Artist question, what is something that you think beginner artists tend to over think?

I'd say "style", maybe ?

I see many beginner artists "searching for their own style" but i don't think there is such a need ? Just draw the way you're more comfortable with, the way you find the more fun/appealing. You can also switch, and try many things, i think there's nothing wrong with trying many ways of drawing that are very different, but that you enjoy nonetheless ! Also, a thing that i learnt when coming to japan (and that i was never really told when i was in france) is the importance of COPYING drawings of illustators/animators you like ! As an exercise of course. Try to draw exactly how they draw, and you'll find new tricks, new ways to synthesize shapes etc. that you might use afterwards ! In the end you'll draw naturally in a mix of all your influences/what you studied.

I think there's no need to draw something thinking "I NEED TO FIND MY STYLE". The more you'll draw and study other artists' works, the more you'll find different ways to draw things, and what are those that are the most comfortable/enjoyable for you. I think it's a natural process. Your "style" is and addition of all the things you love.

As an animator i have to adapt to each production's designs, which is great because i learn new ways to design things everytime, and then i can use them afterwards how i like in my personal drawings!

I really like trying out new things/ways to draw. I always learn new things that help me in DRAWING IN GENERAL !　(different cones i did these last few years ↑)

Hope this helps ! Just have fun and draw/study a lot what you like and it'll come naturally, i think !

[thewritingrowlet]

The Outing Trip pt. 3, ft. tripleS Xinyu, Dahyun, Nakyoung

tags: deepthroat, creampie, squirting, first time anal, anal creampie, cheating (again), FFM, girl-on-girl (just a bit)

word count: ~9k

author's note: this took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I hope it's satisfactory nonetheless. I plan to write another tripleS fic based on one of the ideas in my inbox, please look forward to it.

-

You’re ready to send Xinyu back to her room after giving her a shower and making sure that she’s presentable should anyone see her on the way back. “I’m glad I didn’t mark you; it’d be awkward if someone saw you running around with hickeys on your neck”, you comment as you comb her hair. “I mean, I have concealers”, she says, “but I get your point”.

You go in for a quick good night kiss before she leaves. “Can I ask what you’re doing with the video?”, you question her. Xinyu shows you a cheeky smile, “you’ll see soon enough—I promise I won’t leak it, oppa”. You make her do a pinky promise before sending her away, “I love you, baby—we’ll be going over their essays tomorrow morning, okay? Good night”. Xinyu waves at you as she’s leaving the room, “love you more, oppa. Good night”.

-

You woke up at 4 am, way before your alarm had the chance to buzz. You feel refreshed even though you didn’t sleep as much as you usually do, and you have Xinyu to thank for that; “sex is the best thing to do before sleep, oppa”, she said some time ago. You decide to spend the time by exercising, maybe do a shootaround if you’re lucky. As you enter the resort’s gym, you see a basketball sitting on a rack by its lonesome, and you’re tempted to skip warmup and mess around with it, but you don’t want to risk getting a cramp. You decide to take the ball with you to make sure no one steals it from you.

You start the treadmill at the lowest speed and walk on it for 5 minutes before increasing the speed and repeating it until you reach your walking speed limit to make sure that your body is fully awake before you do anything else. You then get off the treadmill and lift some weights, adding the weight after each two eight-count reps until you reach 80 kg.

“Surely that’s enough warmup; time to have fun now. What do you guys think?”, you ask the empty gym and get no answer, “great minds think alike, hey?”. You feel excited to be able to play basketball after not having played for months; “I hope I don’t miss too much; that’d be embarrassing—not that there’s anyone watching”, you utter. “I’m watching”, a girl says behind you, and you almost pass out from the shock. “What the fuck are you doing, Dahyun-ah?”, you ask her. “I always wake up around this time, oppa—what are you doing?”, she points at you. “Just trying to move my body a bit; we’ve been sitting a lot, haven’t we?”, you shrug, “how did you know I’m here, though?”. “I was on my phone when I heard your door open and close again, so I decided to check and sneakily followed you here”, she says, “please, start doing whatever you came here for”.

You stand on the free throw line and take your first shot, making it go through cleanly with the help of muscle memory. “Whoo!”, Dahyun cheers you, “more, oppa!”. You’d be lying if you said that her cheers don’t excite you, as you’re smiling like a kid after making each shot from the same spot. After consistently making a handful of shots from the line, you move to the top of the key and attempt the first long range shot of the day. Time seemingly slows down as the ball leaves your hand and makes its way to the rim, your eyes locked on to it the whole time. The satisfying sound the nylon nets makes when the ball goes through the rim makes you feel like you’re about to bust, and you’re met with Dahyun’s loud cheer. “My God, you’re such a do-it-all, aren’t you?”, she says.

You pick up the ball and looks at Dahyun with a smile. You see that she has ditched her jacket and undone the first few buttons of her pajama top; her cleavage exposed for you to see. You pretend to not see it, but Dahyun bends backwards just enough to make you drool; “I thought you’ve promised to not do this again ever? Do not betray Xinyu, boy”, the angel on your shoulder warns you. You try your hardest to shake off the thoughts and focus on playing basketball again.

-

“Oppa, you’re so fucking hot”, Dahyun says as you walk up to her, your T-shirt drenched in sweat. “I smell, though”, you sniff your armpits, “oh, God, that is foul”. Dahyun gets on her tippy toes right in your face, getting dangerously close to you, “I haven’t had your cock in my pussy, oppa; when will you give it to me? Do I not deserve it, oppa?”. You take a deep breath and think about your options. That is, until you hear a familiar voice in your head; “go on, son; give her what she wants”, the devil says, “you don’t want to waste this opportunity, do you?”. You take a few seconds of silence and wait for the angel to make a counter argument, but you hear none—he’s probably busy trying to find the biggest hammer to smack you in the back of the head with; “okay, fine; you want it? Come get it”, you say to Dahyun.

You take off your soaked T-shirt before sitting down on the bench next to Dahyun. She then moves to straddle your lap and comes in for a kiss. “We need to talk as soon as we leave this place, sweetie”, you say to her. “Mmh, sure”, Dahyun says as she moves to kneel between your legs, “give it to me, oppa—please, I can’t wait any more”. You take off your shorts along with your boxers, and your cock jumps out and smacks Dahyun in the face. You mutter a soft “sorry” to her, but she dismisses it, “getting hit in the face with a cock is my favorite pastime”.

Dahyun parts her lips and wrap them around your cock, making you let out a low moan at the first contact. You pet her head softly as she’s busy taking your cock deep, “good job, sweetie; keep going, okay?”. Dahyun, hearing your approval, goes straight down and stuffs her throat with your cock without gagging; an incredible feat, all things considered. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, sweetie?”, you say to her between moans. Feeling suffocated, however, Dahyun removes your cock from her throat with a sharp gasp and falls backwards onto her butt. “Holy fuck, oppa”, she says, her chin painted with spit, “I can’t; I’m sorry”. You pull her into your lap and peck her cheek, “it’s okay, sweetie; you tried your best. Let’s catch our breaths for now, okay?”. Dahyun nods and tucks her head under your chin as she tries to compose herself.

“Oppa, can I put it in?”, she asks you after getting herself together. Your heart rate instantly spikes thanks to her question, and you’re not entirely sure if you’ll let her do it. Dahyun, seeing you be unresponsive, asks again, “please, oppa; I’ll make it worthwhile for you”. You look at her right in the eyes and see her genuine desperation, so you agree to her request for sex. “We need to be quick, though, sweetie”, you say to her.

Dahyun lifts her butt off your lap just enough so that she can put your cock in her pussy. She lets out a long moan as she slowly sits down on your cock. “S-so big—ah-ah, fuck”, she says when your shaft is fully inside her. “Come on, sweetie; let’s do this”, you whisper to her ear, and she replies to you with a nod. You hold Dahyun by the waist and thrust up roughly, making her yelp loudly in surprise. “Oppa—ngh, fuck—yes-yes, I love it”, she chants softly into your ears. Dahyun’s ability to control her volume during sex is admirable—Xinyu would just scream as loud as she could if given even the slightest chance.

You keep bouncing Dahyun on your cock until Dahyun calls for a timeout. “Oppa, please—angh-ah—stop for a moment”, she says. “You okay?”, you ask while panting, exhaustion finally catching on. Dahyun pants a few times before answering, “I-I’m so close, oppa”. You’re confused; if she’s so close, why would she want to take a break? Wouldn’t it be better to keep going until she reaches her orgasm? “I want to make sure if you’re close too; I-I want to cum with you”, she says. “Aha, that’s why”, you think to yourself, “if you can keep gripping me like this, I’ll cum soon”.

You stand up from the bench and hook her legs with your arms. “You ready? We’ll cum together, sweetie”, you say to Dahyun. She gives you a nod, thus you start smashing your cock into her pussy roughly to get yourself and Dahyun to the finish line before people start waking up. The rough fucking, combined with the unfavorable position, makes Dahyun scream loudly—you silently wish you had another hand to cover her mouth and stifle her screams with.

“I’M CUMMING!”, Dahyun shrieks before biting her lips to mute the sound. Dahyun’s body starts shaking violently as orgasm takes her to the sky, removing your cock from her pussy in the process. You hear the slosh of her juice hit the wooden floor underneath you. “Do you always squirt, sweetie?”, you ask her. “Ngh, fuck—o-only when I’m with you”, she answers, “I-I don’t squirt when I touch myself”. You free her from your arms and have her stand up next to you so that she doesn’t step in the puddle.

You move her hair that is covering half her face before giving her a peck in the forehead; “I’m glad I can please you”, you say to her. Dahyun smiles in gratitude before coming in for a fleeting kiss. “What about you, oppa? You didn’t cum”, she asks, seemingly concerned about your pleasure. “Don’t worry about me, sweetie; I’ll figure something out. I’ll see you after your team building, okay?”, you say to her. Dahyun tidies her clothes and leaves you alone in the empty gym. You wipe Dahyun’s little puddle with the dry part of your T-shirt; “people should think this is sweat”, you say to yourself.

You text Xinyu as you’re leaving the gym, telling her that you want to have a little bit of morning sexbefore essay review. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there”, she replies.Xinyu is standing in front of your room when you arrive. Seeing that you’re shirtless, Xinyu bites her bottom lip sensually. “God, you’re so hot, oppa”, she comments as you drag her into your room.

Guilt starts creeping up on you as you watch Xinyu take off her clothes, “I can’t believe I called Xinyu to finish Dahyun’s job—fuck”. You’re lost in the sea of thoughts until Xinyu throws you a lifebuoy, “oppa, are you okay? Thinking about something?”. “I’m sorry, love”, you deflect, “something came to mind—it’s okay, though; it’s not important”. You pull Xinyu into your lap before expressing your love, and you’re trying your hardest to maintain your boner despite the surge of guilt and uncertainty.

“Oppa, you don’t seem to be in the correct state of mind for this”, Xinyu says, “talk to me, please”. You decide to tell her about your relationship with Dahyun without revealing too much detail; “Dahyun-ie has been chasing me around, Xinyu-yah. She’s said multiple times that she likes me, a-and I don’t know how to act”. You close your eyes and brace yourself for a hard slap from Xinyu, but it never lands. “Is that why you cried in front of Professor Kim, oppa? Because you didn’t know how you could please us both at the same time?”, she asks, her tone soft as silk. You answer her question with a nod, “I wasn’t sure if I could talk to you about it, so I kept it to myself. That is, until Dahyun pressed on and proposed to be my side chick, and I didn’t know what to do”. Xinyu holds your head with both hands and kisses you, “we’ll talk about this again soon, okay? Do you still want to have sex?”. You let Xinyu go from your embrace wordlessly, and she starts putting on her clothes again. “There’s nothing to worry about, oppa; I still love you and will continue to love you”, she says.

Xinyu pulls you into bed and lies down on your body, “let’s cuddle until breakfast time, oppa”. She is really doing her best to comfort you and remind you how much she loves you, and despite knowing that she means well, it makes you feel more and more guilty for giving Dahyun even the smallest chance to be with you—cock-in-pussy sex isn’t small, though; let’s be for real for a second. “Oppa, say something, please”, she says while poking your stomach playfully. “I love you, baby”, you say to her, “I love you so much”. Xinyu looks at you and shows you her cute smile, which you adore so much, “I love you too, oppa”.

-

After having breakfast with everyone at the resort’s restaurant, you head back to your room with Xinyu and invite Nakyoung and the ministers over for essay review. “Welcome, guys”, Xinyu greets them as they enter the room. Aecha immediately hugs Xinyu and starts sobbing, “my brother’s platelet level is dropping, Xinyu-yah, and-and I-I want to go home—let me go home, please”. Xinyu looks at you over her shoulder and you nod to her in approval. “Of course, Aecha-yah. We’ll find you a bus after this, okay?”, Xinyu says.

Everyone sits in a circle on the floor to review project ideas the recruits have come up with yesterday. Aecha says that she has chosen her top 2 and hands them to Nakyoung—Aecha has always been the diligent one, and the fact that Jaehwan is sick motivated her to work faster so that she can leave sooner. Xinyu whispers to you and asks for permission to take Aecha for a walk. “Go on, baby; try and make Aecha feel better, okay?”, you give Xinyu your approval.

After Xinyu and Aecha leave, you and the others start going over the essays on your laptops and tablets, breaking them down one by one and determining if it can be implemented in the future. You hear Nakyoung laugh as she reads an essay. “This one is similar to the project that made Xinyu cry back then”, Nakyoung tells you, “surely you won’t approve, right, oppa?”. “Let’s put that to the side for now; I need to hear Xinyu’s opinion before we can decide if want to throw that into the bin”, you say to her.

-

Xinyu ended up not returning to the meeting, knocking on your door about an hour after the review had finished. “Hi, oppa”, she says in a low-spirited voice, “Aecha is on the bus heading to the city”. “No wonder you two didn’t return—thanks for taking care of her, baby”, you say to her. Xinyu drags you to the bed and sits on your lap, “Aecha was quite adamant about going home, so I thought I might as well help her go home”. You peck her forehead in praise, “you did very well, baby; I’m proud of you. Did you check on the others, by the way? Are they done with team building?”. “Actually, I talked with Dahyun-ie”, she reveals, “I know about your little romance”. “Ah, fuck”, you say in your head, “I’m so fucking dead”.

“Yah, are you listening or not?”, Xinyu gets off your lap and calls out to you, snapping you out of your silence. You dare not look at her in the eyes, “y-yes, I am, baby”. She slaps you with all her might, and you hear a sob after. “Don’t call me that, Jung Jisung—you fucking lied to me”, she says as tears run down her cheeks, “sightseeing? Really?”. You can’t come up with anything else but an apology, and you know full well that it isn’t enough. “Tell me what happened on the ferry—go on, lie to me again; I fucking dare you”, she threatens. “I, um, I got a blowjob from Dahyun-ie”, you confess, still not looking at her in the eyes. “What happened to your honesty, hm? Did you throw it into the sea or something? Did you send it down to her throat along with your cum?”, she asks in disbelief as she breaks down in tears. You try to approach her slowly, but Xinyu retreats and looks at you in disgust. “Baby, I’m sorry” is the only sentence you managed to come up with. “I don’t want to talk to you; I’m leaving”, Xinyu says as she walks out of the door, leaving you alone to simmer in regret and shame.

You hear some rapid knocks on the door, and you see through the hole that it’s Nakyoung, seemingly mad about something. She slaps you in the cheek forcefully as soon as you open the door. “Fuck you”, she says after the slap, “you broke her heart, you fucking asshole”. If this were any normal situation, you’d be hurt by the manner of her speech, but considering the events prior, you’re more shameful than offended. “I’m sorry”, you say to her. “I don’t want your apology, but I want you to be a man and fix this mess—are we clear?”, she delivers her demand while pressing her index finger on your chest, her eyes fiery. Seeing that you’re not answering, she asks again if you understand her words. “Yes, I understand”, you say, letting out a depressed sigh after.

Nakyoung leaves after delivering her demands, slamming the door as she does. You feel your phone vibrate a few times in your pocket as you’re getting back to bed.

[🍒] I’m sorry I ruined it for you I’m so sorry I’ll leave you two alone from now on I’m sorry for everything

No matter how much Dahyun feels guilty, you’re still the one at fault for falling for the devil’s deception and hurting your beloved girlfriend who, quote, “has been with you through storms and tranquility”. “Ah, fuck, I’m so fucking stupid”, you slap yourself in the forehead, “fuck, Xinyu, I’m so sorry, baby”. “The audacity to call her ‘baby’ after all this bullshit you’ve pulled”, the angel returns with an insult, and you hope that he has found a sledgehammer to smash your head in with.

You muster up the courage and text Professor Kim, hoping that she’ll allow you to talk to her and ask for counsel. She calls you a few minutes after you sent the text. “Hello, president. You want to talk about something?”, she asks. “Hello, professor”, you greet her, “um, Xinyu has found out about my little stunt and now she’s livid—I’ve taken two slaps in the cheeks, professor”. “No hard feelings, Jisung-ah, but I think you deserve it”, she says, almost in a mocking tone—one that you deserve, “I’m guessing you’re now wondering how you can fix this”. You involuntarily shed a tear, “yes, madam, I am; any clues? I’ve apologized, by the way”. The professor sighs over the phone, “well, I suggest letting things run their course for now; I imagine Xinyu needs some time before she’ll allow you to approach her again—what about the other girl?”. You tell Professor Kim that Dahyun has apologized over text and promised to leave you alone, and it presumably satisfies her. “Yeah, just give Xinyu some space for now. That’s all I have to say”, she says. You thank her for letting you call her and hang up the phone after.

You’re now lying in bed, using all your brain cells to come up with a plan to make it up to Xinyu. One brain cell suggests giving her flowers, and as tempting as it sounds, you’re not sure if a bouquet wrapped with a big ribbon saying “I’m sorry” will convey your feelings properly—the last thing you want is for Xinyu to think that you’re taking this lightly, which you are not. You look around the room for ideas, and you see a small piece of paper and a pencil next to it sitting on the table. “Ah, I should try writing a letter to Xinyu”, you say to yourself. You sit at the table and start stringing words together thoughtfully using two of the oldest tools known to man.

“Dear Xinyu

Hello, this is Jung Jisung

Before I begin, please allow me to call you by these names for now as I don’t know if I’ll get to do it again.

I’m sorry for hurting you, sweetheart. I understand that I did such a horrific job of being the man in this relationship; lying to you and hurting you    by yearning for something that was never appropriate for me. If you, my love, were willing to forgive me and take me back in your arms, I would be more than grateful—more than mere words can express—but considering how hurt you are because of me, I dare not hope, no matter how much I want to.

I love you, and I’m sorry for hurting you.

I hope this letter finds you well.

Yours always,

Jung Jisung”

After writing the letter, you fold the paper in half and write your signature on the cover and a small heart that you fill in with pencil. You put the letter on your chest and pray that Xinyu can sense the sincerity and honesty in the words. You then start walking out of your room and towards Xinyu and Nakyoung’s on the other side of the corridor.

You slide the letter through the bottom gap and knock a few times. Seeing that you get no response after standing in front of their door for a minute, you turn in the other direction and start walking back towards your room. You’ve taken around a dozen steps when you hear a door swing open behind you and feel someone crash into you and wrap their arms around you while crying. “Oppa”, the quivering voice steals your attention, “I love you—fuck—I love you so much, oppa”. Hearing the familiar voice makes you shed a tear, and you turn around for a hug. “I love you too, Xinyu-yah. I’m so sorry for hurting you, my love”, you say as tears start running down your cheeks. You and Xinyu cry in each other’s arms, showing each other how real the feelings you have for each other are. You finally compose yourself after a few minutes and invite her to your room for privacy. Xinyu agrees to your idea, so you carry her in your arms and rush towards your room.

You sit down in the middle of the bed with Xinyu in your arms, and you fire all the “I love you” and “I’m sorry” bullets in your magazine. “I’ve been waiting for you to knock on the door for so long, oppa; I was sitting behind the door when you slid that letter, you know”, she says, her voice trembling from the emotions. “I’m so sorry, love; I was so busy trying to come up with an apology”, you say to her before pecking her head, “I’m so sorry, baby”. Xinyu bursts out crying again, seemingly overwhelmed with feelings, “please, please don’t hurt me like that again—I’m begging you, oppa; I don’t want to hate you”. “I won’t, baby—cross my heart”, you deliver a promise to her, one that you plan on never breaking as long as you two are alive.

After regaining composure, Xinyu moves to sit on your lap and puts her hands on your shoulders. “Oppa, why did you lie to me? You, of all people, lied to me, oppa—I thought we agreed to be honest to each other?”, she says, her tone heightening in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, love; the only answer I can give you is that I was thinking with my penis and not my brain”, you give Xinyu the frankest answer you can think of. “If-if by any chance you were bored with our sex, oppa, you could’ve just told me and I would’ve come up with something to spice it up. I-I’ll do whatever you want me to, you know that, right?”, she says. You shake your head in denial, “I promise you it was not about sex at all, love; I’m always satisfied and happy with what we usually do. I just happened to let lust fill my head and control my actions, which is never acceptable for a man to do, and for that I sincerely apologize”. Xinyu seems to be satisfied with your answer, as she rewards you with a peck on the lips before tucking her head under your chin. “I love you, oppa. Don’t lie to me again, please; being lied to fucking hurts”, she says.

-

You ask Xinyu if she wants to go to the restaurant and get some food after she has regained calmness, and in typical Zhou Xinyu fashion, she accepts your offer without thinking twice. You see Nakyoung outside her room as you’re walking towards the restaurant together with Xinyu. “Oh, hey, look at you, holding hands like a happy couple—you’ve sorted out your dissent, haven’t you?”, she comments with a smile of relief. You smile and nod, “yeah, Xinyu was kind enough to forgive me and give me the chance to redeem myself”. “That’s nice to hear”, Nakyoung says, “so where are you going now? I know we have some time to kill before announcing the essay winners”. You tell her that you’re going to the restaurant, and Nakyoung asks if she can tag along. “Like you’ve never done that before, Miss Secretary”, you say in playful mockery, earning a light smack of annoyance from Nakyoung.

Xinyu and Nakyoung say they want to have crispy chicken steak and fries, so you get the same thing as them to save time. “Oh, wow, look at that!”, Xinyu excitedly claps her hands when she sees the waiter set the food on the table. Seeing Xinyu be happy brings joy to your heart and reminds you to stay loyal and honest to her. “Haha, Jisung-oppa is smiling like a dummy”, Nakyoung teases you. Xinyu smiles at you softly while reaching out to hold your hand, “I love you, oppa—please don’t lie to me again”. You know that speaking will make you emotional, so you reply to her with a loving smile and a finger heart.

-

You head towards the hall with Xinyu after the lunch-dinner—petition to call it “lunner”—while Nakyoung opts to take a walk around the resort. “Oppa, wait”, Xinyu calls out to you while looking at her phone, “Chanwoo just texted me; he said that Jungwoo-oppa just fought someone again”. “Shin Jungwoo?”, you sigh, “we’ll call him later, babe; let him catch his breath for now—did Chanwoo say anything about the other guy, though?”. Xinyu shows you her chat with Chanwoo, “he fought a bully, oppa. Apparently, Professor Bae knows about this as well”.

You sit in the front row with Xinyu next to you, sharing laughs and giggles with her, rejoicing in the mended relationship. You make a joke that Xinyu finds to be exceptionally funny, causing her to laugh out loud while clapping her hands in amusement. As you wait for her laugh to die down, you see Dahyun open the door in the corner of your eyes. You turn your head slightly to make eye contact, but Dahyun evades it and disappears behind the door. It’s unfortunate that it had to end like this, but you’d like to think that this is the best possible outcome as you’re now in Xinyu’s arms again, as self-centered as it sounds. You silently promise to make it right to Dahyun and cut your ties properly—possibly tearily.

Nakyoung takes the stage after everyone has gathered in the hall. “Good evening, everyone. We will be announcing the 3 teams that have come up with the best ideas and those 3 teams will do a presentation right here, right now—we’ve asked you to prepare for a presentation, haven’t we?”, she says, her voice heard through the speakers. Nakyoung then proceeds to announce the top 3 and congratulates each team as they come up to the stage. Nakyoung tells them to do rock-paper-scissors to determine the order of presentation before giving up her spot on the stage and sitting down.

Reading is cool and all, but it doesn’t allow you to hear the rationale behind every word that is written. An idea that might look uninteresting on paper can turn out to be exciting when you know the thought process behind it, as proven by the number 2 team, who has come up with a seemingly mundane idea of visiting an elementary school nearby and participating in teaching 1st and 2nd graders. They had read this journal that spoke of increasing student’s learning stimulus in class and decided that they wanted to try it out themselves. “The university might get positive publicity, but more importantly, we aim to be able to help the teachers and students, since we believe that education—especially in elementary—should not be dull”, the speaker says. The speaker and friends look at you, hoping that you’ll say something positive, and honestly, you’re already sold on the idea. You don’t want to jump the gun and ruin it for the next team, opting to start collective claps with the audience instead.

You’re struggling to focus on the last team since the second one has already managed to steal your heart. “I need you to pay attention on this one, baby; I’m already sold on the previous one”, you whisper to Xinyu. She pinches your thigh in annoyance, “you can’t be biased like that, oppa”. You want to make a counter argument, but Nakyoung pinches your other thigh firmly, forcing you to focus back on the presentation.

Not only does time fly by when it’s spent with your loved ones, but also when you’re not paying attention to your surroundings. One minute you were (loosely) listening to the presentation, next minute you see Nakyoung end the session and send everyone to their rooms. “I swear, initiation trips did not used to go by this quickly”, you say to Xinyu. “Yeah, well, we were the ones doing these assignments back then, and now we’re the ones sitting back—the cycle never ends, oppa”, she says. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, what now?”, you ask the two girls in front of you. “You said that we’d call Jungwoo-oppa”, Xinyu reminds you of your promise from earlier. Nakyoung, who used to have a crush on Jungwoo, asked in curious worry as to why you’re calling Jungwoo. “He fought someone earlier, Naky-yah; we need to check up on him”, you explain briefly to her.

The three of you rush to your bedroom and sit on the floor in a circle. You find Jungwoo’s name on your phone and call him, and he picks up after two rings. “Good evening, this is Shin Jungwoo”, he says over the phone. “Good evening to you as well, this is Jung Jisung. Where are you, man?”, you ask him. “I’m at a burger shop with someone—Yooyeon-ie just left, by the way”, he says, “can I help you, president?”. You proceed to ask him about the rumors, and he explains that a group of freshmen has been bullying a fellow freshman and that he fought one of the bullies. “We can’t keep defending you, man”, you say to Jungwoo. Impatient, Nakyoung steals your phone from you and cuts off Jungwoo mid-sentence, “oppa! Oppa, are you okay? Are you hurt? You need to stop fighting people, seriously”. Jungwoo doesn’t recognize Nakyoung’s voice at first, thus making Nakyoung seemingly irritated. Jungwoo then promises to talk about this again when you come back and bring the victim, a girl named Kim Suyeon, along and introduce her to you.

Nakyoung starts letting out tears as soon as Jungwoo ends the call, her old feelings for him resurfacing after being buried for nearly two years. “I’m proud of him for standing up against bullying, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t let his fists fly so easily���, Nakyoung says as she wipes her tears. Xinyu hugs Nakyoung from the side and offers comfort while you hope that Jungwoo would stop fighting bullies, no matter how big of an example he’s made of these assholes. You also sympathize with Nakyoung, who used to have a crush on Jungwoo and only “leaving” him because she got scared after seeing him knock someone out with her own eyes. “Let’s convince him to become an advocate against bullying instead of a fighter, okay?”, you pat Nakyoung’s shoulder softly to calm her.

Nakyoung jumps off the bed and leaves your room, citing that she needs some fresh air. Xinyu turns to you in confusion, “u-uh, sure; I-I’ll see you later, Naky-yah”. You sigh in exhaustion as one more huge wave crashes into you. “I need to lie down; my head hurts”, you complain. Xinyu climbs your body and sprays your face with kisses, “oh, no, no, no—headache, leave my Jisung-oppa alone!”. You chuckle at her little aegyo, “you’re so cute, baby”. Xinyu covers her cheeks to hide her tomato cheeks, “aw, please don’t say that; I-I’m just trying to help”. You get up to a sitting position with Xinyu on your lap; “I’m so thankful for you, baby. I’m so sorry for hurting you”, you say to her, sounding as sincere as possible. “I was going to forgive you regardless of whether you’d apologize or not”, Xinyu says as she grabs something out of her pocket, “this letter helped me, um, get over it, I guess”.

You put a hand on Xinyu’s nape, and she immediately goes in for a kiss to tell you that she has forgiven you and accepted you in her arms again. “Hurt her again and I’ll smash your penis and balls with this hammer”, the angel delivers an ultimatum, and you dare not ignore it. Xinyu breaks the kiss with a gasp, “fuck, I can’t take it anymore”. You look at her with raised eyebrows, and that is when Xinyu pulls her T-shirt over her head and throws it away, “take me, oppa—please, I’m desperate”. It’s crazy to think how Xinyu relies on you heavily for everything, from assignments to sexual pleasure. You reach behind her back and unlatch her bra quickly before palming her tits.

Xinyu seems to be very impatient, as she humps your crotch even though the both of you still have joggers on. You pinch her nipples in response, “you need to be patient, love”. “O-oppa”, she says, throwing her head back in thirst and frustration, “please, make me yours again”. You lay her down on the bed and take your clothes off swiftly. You grab the waistband of her joggers and see the wet spot on her crotch, “horny much, baby girl?”. She wants to express with words how horny she is, but since her head has been taken over by lust, she only manages to come up with unintelligible sounds.

You get in between her legs after taking off her panties, ready to plunge into her warm cavern. “Baby, I’m going in”, you say to her, and Xinyu closes her eyes in response. As much as you’re tempted to tease her with your fingers, you don’t want to wait any longer, resulting in you diving deep into her right away. “Oppa, kiss me please”, she says, her arms reaching out to hug you. Xinyu uses her long limbs to secure you in place as soon as you lean forward for a hug and a kiss. Despite being stuck in a love lock, you’re still able to move your hips and fuck her at a consistent pace, earning soft bites and moans from Xinyu.

 “Oppa, I’ve missed you”, she says between her soft moans, “I’ve missed your cock”. You laugh internally considering that you did in fact had sex with her yesterday, but you don’t want to ruin the mood thus replying to her with a deep groan. “You’re so warm and tight, princess—so fucking good”, you praise her as you start fucking her faster. “Yes-yes—oh, fuck! Please, oppa, fuck me; I’m your good girl”, she says, her voice shaky from your fast thrusts. You gather your strength and use it to fuck her deep and fast, aiming to make her cum in the next few minutes.

Your plan works, as she announces into your ear that she’s about to explode. Xinyu tightens her grip on your cock, squeezing you hard, as if trying to milk your cum out of you. As a result, you blow your load into Xinyu with no prior consent from her. “I came as well; sorry, love”, you say to her. “N-no”, she deflects, ”I—fuck—I’m glad we came together, oppa”. You put your lips on her forehead as the both of you ride the high of orgasm together. “Oppa, my lips are down here”, she says softly with a chuckle. You reply to her chuckle with your own as you move down to kiss her passionately.

Xinyu releases you from her strangling limbs and you immediately fall to the side in exhaustion. “I’m spent, oppa; take care of me, please”, she says as she moves to hug you from the side. “I came inside you without asking, love”, you say to her in an apologetic voice. Xinyu palms your limp cock and strokes it softly, “that means I’m officially yours again, oppa. Thank you for taking me back in your arms”. You peck the top of her head and tell her that it was supposed to be your line. “I love you, oppa—we didn’t catch the cum drip on video, though”, she says. You ask her what she’s doing with that video, but she refuses to answer properly, saying that you “need to be patient” and that you “will find out soon enough”. You’re not entirely satisfied with her answer, but you hope that it won’t end up terribly for you and Xinyu.

-

You were half asleep when you heard two different voices near you, presumably discussing something. “Are you sure he consents to this?”, one of them says. “I’m 99% sure”, the other says. You slowly open your eyes and see two figures standing side-by-side in front of the bed. “Who are you?”, you say as you rub your eyes. “Why, I’m your girlfriend, of course”, Xinyu says, confirming her presence in the room. The other person greets you, and hearing it sends shock throughout your body. “Kim Nakyoung? What are you—yo, I’m naked; cover your eyes!”, you say, your tone high in disbelief. “Respectfully, oppa, I like the sight—never seen you like this before; damn, you’re so hot”, Nakyoung says, letting out a giggle after.

“Nakyoung-ie has been longing for a man’s touch, oppa”, Xinyu explains, “I figured you could help”. “Are you sure?”, you ask her, “you didn’t forget what had happened earlier, did you?”. “I consent this time”, Xinyu answers, “please, oppa, help a girl out, please”. Xinyu even said “please” twice, probably without realizing it, and you can only let out a sigh. “I’m only doing this because Xinyu consents, just so we’re clear—I’ve hurt her enough”, you say. Xinyu claps her hands in excitement, “you’re the best, oppa!”.

You get off the bed and stand in front of Nakyoung, “what are we thinking?”. Nakyoung takes a few steps back and starts undressing herself. Xinyu, who has always had the image of someone who plays for both sides, proves her “open-mindedness” by kissing Nakyoung’s neck until Nakyoung pushes her away. “Don’t mark me, Xinyu-yah”, Nakyoung says. You pinch Xinyu’s cheek lightly for her clumsiness before turning to Nakyoung to peck her lips. “I need to hear your explicit consent”, you say to her. Nakyoung puts her hand up like she was testifying, “I, with no doubt in my mind, consent to everything we’re about to do tonight”. You chuckle at her words, “everything, hm? Let’s see how far you think ‘everything’ is”.

You hold Nakyoung’s hands and pull her into your lap as you sit on the end of the bed. You see in the corner of your sight that Xinyu has found comfort on the armchair, watching the both of you like a cuckold. Nakyoung takes your hands and guides them to her bare breasts, “what do you think of them, oppa?”. You take her tits in your hands and softly squeeze them, “so soft, Naky-yah; I like it”. Nakyoung looks at Xinyu quickly before looking back at you, “ac-actually, I-I want to be called by pet names, oppa”. Her words sting your heart; you used to call Dahyun by pet names behind Xinyu’s back, and now Nakyoung wants you to do the same in front of Xinyu. You glance at Xinyu and see her nod in approval. “Alright, sweetie”, you comply to her request, “are you ready for this?”.

You lie down in bed after Nakyoung shows you the green light, your cock pointing to the ceiling in front of her stomach. “That’s so fucking big”, she comments as she starts stroking your cock. The softness of her hands makes you think that maybe she has put on some lotion or the sort, “your hands are so soft, sweetie”. Nakyoung smiles shyly, “um, Xinyu gave me a bunch of tips before this, and this is the result”. “Before this? How long have you guys been planning for this?”, you ask, bewildered. “Been a while, actually—the cum video was my idea, by the way”, Nakyoung reveals, her hands still busy stroking your cock. You turn your eyes towards Xinyu, and she winks at you while smiling.

Nakyoung moves her head, hovering centimeters over your cock. “Oppa, look at me, please”, she says. You make and maintain eye contact with her as she parts her lips and slowly go down on your cock, choking halfway to your pelvis. The little mishap causes her to remove your cock from her mouth, gasping sharply as she does. “Fuck, how does Xinyu manage to do this all the time?”, Nakyoung comments. “It took her a few months to get used to me, Naky-yah; I don’t mean to overstep but if you want to be like her, you’ll need a lot of practice”, you say to her. “I can be your side girl, oppa—if Xinyu allows it, that is”, she says, replicating Dahyun’s line from some time ago. You’re stunned; you’re not sure how much Nakyoung and Xinyu know, thus you’re unsure about how to respond aside from a fake groan to deflect her proposal.

Nakyoung returns to the task at hand (literally) and take your cock in her mouth again. She seems to have made it her goal to reach your pelvis, as proven by how she keeps going down, fighting her gag reflex in the process. She finally reaches the bottom of your cock after trying so hard; her spit is leaking everywhere as her jaws are wide open to accommodate your girth, and she’s making this very sensual gurgling sound. “Fuck, that’s a good girl”, you and Xinyu say at the same time, causing the both of you to chuckle. Nakyoung finally goes up after a few seconds, falling backwards onto her butt as she does. “H-how did you two say that at—hah, fuck—at the same time? Great minds think alike or something?”, Nakyoung says as she wipes her mouth. “I say good girl a lot to Xinyu during sex”, you explain, “I guess she’s fond of that line”.

Nakyoung looks at Xinyu and asks for permission to put your cock in her pussy, and Xinyu shows her approval by getting naked, ready to touch herself while watching; “go on; I’ll watch”, Xinyu says. “Oppa, I hope you consent as well”, Nakyoung says as she hovers over your cock. “I do, but can I ask if you’re okay doing it raw?”, you ask. “You’re my third, oppa, and I know that Xinyu was your first so it should be fine—I get tested regularly, by the way”, she says. Nakyoung proceeds to lower herself until your cock touches her entrance, letting out a gasp at the first contact; “I’m about to get ripped in half”, she murmurs.

She lets out a long, pained moan as your cock gradually fills her pussy. “Ngh, fuck—so fucking big”, she says as she feels her muscles stretch to contain your shaft. Nakyoung finally manages to sit squarely on your lap after struggling with your size for a while. She then plants her hands on your abs before she starts fucking herself with your cock. You’ve never seen Nakyoung make this sort of expression before, and you find it to be arousing—Xinyu used to make this face during the early days of your relationship, as she also struggled getting used to your cock. “Go on, Nakyoung-ah; show us what you can do”, you challenge her. She accepts your challenge and starts going up and down on your shaft rapidly while letting out moans which volume is making you concerned. You glance quickly to the left where Xinyu is sitting and see that she has her legs spread and rested on the armrest while her hand is vigorously rubbing her pussy.

Nakyoung has found a decent pace after getting comfortable with the stretch, and you find the sounds of her and Xinyu’s moan to be very arousing. You look at Xinyu again and summon her to you by moving your index finger, and she obliges immediately. Xinyu knows what you want and sits right on your face, her lush thighs serving as noise cancelling headphones. You can’t see what’s happening up there, but since you don’t hear anyone moaning, you assume that they’re tongue wrestling as they ride different parts of your body. You start working on Xinyu’s pussy with your tongue from below, holding her down by her thighs to make sure she doesn’t wiggle around. A light nibble in the clit makes Xinyu jolt but she doesn’t stand a chance against your strong arms that are gripping her firmly.

This threesome of yours has been going on for God-knows-how-long when both girls announce that they’re coming. You feel Nakyoung lift off your cock at the same time as Xinyu leaves your aggressive tongue. They cover their mouths and spray their juice all over your body; “holy fuck, I made them cum at the same time”, you think to yourself. They both fall limp next to you, hugging each other as they savor their high.

You get off the bed and head to the bathroom to wipe their combined juice and your sweat off your body. When you return, you see them kissing while playing with each other’s tits, seemingly busy in their own little world. “Excuse me, girls”, you interrupt them, “which one of you is going to make me cum?”. Xinyu breaks the kiss with a giggle, “I’d like to use my authority as vice president and delegate the secretary but there is a condition”. “That is?”, you ask, trying to figure out where she’s going with this. “Nakyoung-ie will take you in the ass”, Xinyu says, biting her bottom lip naughtily after. You are dumbfounded, “excuse me?”. “T-take my ass, oppa”, Nakyoung says, “take my anal cherry”. You are dumbfounded again, “are you sure? Have you even put anything in your ass before?”. “Y-yes, I-I’ve put a dildo in there some time ago”, Nakyoung shyly confesses.

Nakyoung rolls off Xinyu’s body and onto her back, “please, oppa”. Since she has decided to be naughty, you use this opportunity to match her; “that’s daddy to you, Kim Nakyoung”, you say to her as you get on the bed. You fold Nakyoung’s legs over her body and tell her to hold them. Since you don’t have lube, you decide to use Nakyoung’s pussy juice to coat your cock before entering her ass. You plunge quickly into her pussy for a couple of thrusts before pulling out, stroking your cock after to make sure that it’s coated entirely. “I’m not asking again, Nakyoung-ah”, you warn her. “Take me, daddy; I’m ready”, she says, nervousness clear as day to see.

You put your tip on her rear entrance, and Nakyoung gasps at the first contact. You see that her fingertips have turned white as she tries to hold her legs in place. You then start moving forward and stretch her rectum with the first few centimeters of your cock, forcing Nakyoung to furrow her eyebrows in pain. “Deeper, daddy; I-I can take it”, she says. You keep pushing into her ass until she begs you to stop, “s-stop, daddy; it-it hurts—fuck”. You look down and observe the situation; she has managed to take half of your length in her ass—that’s way more than Xinyu, considering that you’ve never had anal with her.

“Fuck, sweetie, you’re so tight”, you praise her. “Fuck me, please; make it hurt”, she says. You grant her wish and start moving your hips back and forth slowly, impaling her rear with your big cock. “It hurts, it hurts”, she chants, “fuck, it hurts so good”. Noticing that she’s reacting well to your length, you pick up the pace and fuck her harder. “Fuck, such a good girl”, you praise her, “keep gripping me like that”. Nakyoung bites her lip sexily, “Xi-Xinyu doesn’t let you in her ass, does she, daddy?”. Even with your cock in her ass, she still manages to tease—this naughty (and sexy) cat’s mischievousness knows no end. Xinyu seems to be ticked with Nakyoung’s words, and she starts rubbing Nakyoung’s clit rapidly to stimulate her further. “Oh, fuck, you two are going to make me cum again”, Nakyoung says with troubled breaths.

You maintain your pace and depth of your thrusts and notice that Nakyoung’s pain has subsided and been replaced by pleasure. You also notice that your cock isn’t just halfway in her ass, no, no, no; you’re fully lodged in her rear hole now. Xinyu hasn’t let up her work either, still rubbing herself and Nakyoung passionately. Xinyu has a different idea, however, as she dives into Nakyoung’s pussy and starts licking her clit from the side. Nakyoung tries to scream, but she manages to stifle her voice before it leaves her mouth. “Daddy, mommy—fuck, you’re going to make your baby cum”, she says. You’re astounded by how naughty she is in bed, and it fuels the fire of lust in your heart—she even calls Xinyu “mommy”, what the fuck?

“Sweetie, I’m cumming in your ass”, you say to Nakyoung, whose eyes are almost entirely rolled to the back of her head. “Cum in my ass, daddy—fuck, fuck, fuck—please, cum in my ass”, she chants as she savors the sensation of first time anal. You lodge the entirety of your shaft in her ass and blow your load deep into her guts, letting out a very deep groan as you do. Xinyu leaves Nakyoung’s clit and grabs her phone, “pull out, oppa; I’ll get it on camera”. You slowly retreat from the intense tightness of Nakyoung’s ass as Xinyu records from the side while making sure that no one’s face is caught on video. Nakyoung’s asshole struggles to return to its original shape, and Xinyu aims her camera straight at it; “oh my God, look at that gape!”, Xinyu comments with a gasp. You see through Xinyu’s phone and pay attention to how your cum drips out of her anus, “fuck, that’s crazy”.

Xinyu ends the recording after a few seconds and mutes the audio before throwing her phone away. “Take my ass next, daddy”, Xinyu begs. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m spent; I’ve blown a load inside you earlier, remember?”, you try to reason with her. “Ah, you’re right—next time, I guess”, Xinyu says. You free Nakyoung’s legs from her hands and put them down on the bed, “you did so well, Nakyoung-ah. Thank you very much”. Nakyoung’s pussy squirts out another load of juice belatedly, surprising both you and Xinyu. “Fuck, oppa, that was so fucking hot”, Nakyoung says, her pants deep and heavy.

You look over your shoulder to see the time. “It’s 2 am, huh? We’re leaving at 7, aren’t we?”, you ask your girls—yes, your girls. “The-the bus—fuck, I’m tired—the bus will be here at 6:15, oppa”, Nakyoung says. You lie down in bed with Xinyu and Nakyoung on each side, “how was it, Nakyoung-ah? Did it hurt?”, Xinyu asks. “Fuck, my ass was literally on fire, Xinyu-yah—Jisung-oppa is so fucking big, you should be grateful”, Nakyoung answers, “if I were you, Xinyu-yah, I would ask him to fuck my ass at least once a week”.

Xinyu contemplates her choices for a moment before turning to you, “please fuck me in the ass regularly, oppa”. You nod in agreement, “sure, love, but I want your clear consent written on a letter”. Xinyu tells you that she’ll write it on the flip side of your letter and hand it to you next weekend. “Alright, let’s get some z’s before the sun rises, okay?”, you say to the girls, and they each say good night before shutting your eyes. You imagine that both the angel and the devil are scratching their heads in confusion, wondering how you ended up fucking two girls in one night—one of them in the ass—but truthfully, you are as clueless as they are.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 31 “Wet Gas” [Episode List] Tim, Dave, Adam and Greg spend a “guys only” weekend… relaxing in the calmest and cheapest beach resort the could find. While the others enjoy the soothing sound of the waves, Tim is “forced” by Dave to enjoy instead the loud, thunderous sound of his massive farts.

POV: Tim

7:00 AM.

We parked in the middle of nowhere, grabbed our backpacks, and marched towards the only visible human-made thing.

The sign hanging just above the main entrance of the modest hotel building, a structure separating the hot asphaltic hell we were standing on from the (hopefully) beautiful beach resort, reads “Sandy Beach”, written in Comic Sans nonetheless. Very original name!

We promptly, and very maturely, misread “beach” on purpose and we had our first high IQ laugh of the weekend.

“Pretty cool, huh?” our friend Greg said, admiring the shabby entrance and leading us the way, with a smug look on his face.

Considering that he chose the place, he was obviously being very biased.

“Yeah.” I said. “Are they gonna harvest our internal organs tonight or…” 

That earned a good laugh from Dave and Adam.

“Yeah it looks like shit.” Adam said. “But as long as they have the Jacuzzi...” he glared at Greg “I’m okay with losing a liver I guess.”

“Can’t wait to rub your wet nipples, Adam.” Dave said, caressing our friend’s chest.

“Not now, Greg may get jealous.” he replied, playing along.

“Who’s gonna rub MY nipples then?” I asked, sarcastically.

Dave stepped closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“Is that even a question?” he said, painfully pinching my right nipple.

I didn’t scream. 

I suffered in silence like a real man.

—

Credit where it’s due.

Once we stepped into the building, the resort turned out to be bigger and much more equipped than it looked. The beach was vast and not very crowded (it’s only late June after all), same goes for the swimming pools.

In the end we booked 2 rooms and we split like we usually do when it’s just the 4 of us: Adam and Greg in one room, me and Dave in the other.

Adam and Dave’s girlfriends were actually supposed to join us but they decided to plan a “girls only” weekend instead with other friends.

The entire building was mostly made of wood, or cladded with wood. It gave the place a more “exotic” look and, most importantly, it wasn’t boiling hot and I didn’t even need to turn the AC ON. There were palms outside, but they were made of plastic. 

Fun, I guess?

Before going to the beach we all checked our rooms first. Both me and Dave checked for some stuff in our backpacks and we changed into our “beach” clothes, which basically meant only wearing a simple t-shirt and a swimming trunks. My bro was sporting a grey t-shirt and a pair of red trunks.

I admit I gave him more than one quick look, hoping my dark sunglasses would hide my eyes glued on him. 

He is a good looking man after all. 

“Enjoying the view?” he said, his own sunglasses hiding the fact that he was staring back at me the whole time.

“You know what?” I dared to say. “Yes.”

Dave laughed at my bravery. “Thanks.” he then said, no irony, no sarcasm. “You too are looking good. Told ya you needed to exercise.”

Well this has been a weirdly sincere exchange of compliments.

“Now let’s rate your cock…”

There it is, the mandatory immature joke (but everything before that was sincere).

We grabbed our towels and I walked outside of the room, Dave right behind me, being tasked with preserving our room’s keys. 

Outside of our room there was a long and (as of now) empty corridor. I turned to Dave as he made to close the door behind us but before doing that he looked left and right, as if he was a pedestrian crossing a busy road.

“One last thing before we go…” he whispered, after he sure no one was around.

Dave held the door ajar behind him and squeezed his ass in red trunks into our room, unleashing a loud, high-pitched fart. He narrowed his eyes as he pushed the loud gas out; technically a morning fart, but fueled by a weird schedule (we woke up at like 4:00 AM to get here) and a quick, unhealthy breakfast.

“Marking your territory I see.” my snarky comment, as I witnessed my friend tainting our once immaculate room with his gas.

He laughed a bit, resulting in the fart having some “hiccups”, but he managed to finish ripping it nicely, with a final, deeper, loud note. Dave then quickly shut the door, as if the gas could escape, and locked it.

“And you did this… because?” I asked, sounding as annoying as you think.

“Because I had to fart, duh!” he replied, putting his sunglasses on.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked in the empty corridor.

“No worries, I’m gonna blast ya later.” he then said, whispering, like the bastard teaser he knows he is.

He tried to crush my nipple again but this time I parried him like the pro I am and, ignoring the fact that Dave was, as usual, being super chill with my kink (and the fact I was pitching a tent…), we raced to the beach like the immature 30 years olds that we are.

—

After some beach volley on the shoreline, we spent the next few hours sleeping under our umbrellas, because we’re old and tired of living. Still the best nap we ever had since months. We woke up and just ate a sandwich each for lunch, as we had a much more “demanding” dinner planned for tonight here at the resort.

We had another session of beach volley in the afternoon, some beers, chatted with some other guys, generally chilling and doing basically nothing, occasionally commenting on how deceptively shabby the whole resort was, imagining non-existent lore and backstories worthy of an AMC crime drama series.

—

The Sun was setting so we decided to leave the beach and go back to our rooms. It was still early for dinner or any other night activity, so I proposed to try the Jacuzzi.

“Bro.” Dave said to Adam and Greg, faking a serious, surprised expression. “Tim had… a good idea?”

Sarcasm aside, the other three idiots agreed, ‘cause after that long day of relax… we needed to relax. Makes sense.

We chose the Jacuzzi in mine and Dave’s room since it was the one actually working (the news made Greg earn some insults from Adam). After a couple of minutes of setting it up, we jumped in, fetching some beers in the process, and let the warm bubbles do their massage. 

We all felt ridiculously good. We kept chatting and joking around, chilling in the hot-tub 5ft apart ‘cause we’re not gay (well…), or at least that was the idea, but Dave (and Adam too, to be fair) had to mess with our nipples because we’re very mature, so the thing quickly turned into some kind of Mexican Standoff where we had to keep our nipples safe.

After like 15 minutes, the hydro-massage turned itself off.

“Probably a power-saving thing.” Greg commented.

Dave floated towards me and “sat” next to me. I could still see the red swimming trunks through the warm water.

“If you guys need bubbles, I got ya covered.”

At first we didn’t realize what he meant, until we remembered who were we sharing the Jacuzzi with.

We noticed him visibly pushing one out and lots of bubbles appeared all around him. 

A cartoonishingly-impressive performance from Dave, as he managed to rip it with ease even underwater, producing what essentially was a natural hydro-massage (I was next to him and I could certainly feel it). His skills earned amused and disgusted reactions (even from me), as each popping bubble let out in the air the stench of his fart. 

That wasn’t an underwater fart, that was a seaquake entirely localized in our hot-tub. As the fart kept going and more poisonous bubbles reached the surface, it felt more like we were bathing in some thermal waters near a volcano, since the whole thing smelt like sulphur (…which notably smells like rotten eggs).

After like 10 seconds, the bubbles stopped, and Dave looked at us with a smug, proud smirk, fully knowing how annoying that was. But, as bros do, we actually tipped our metaphorical hats to his incredible talent. Despite my sincere admiration, that still gave me a massive boner, which the water fortunately kept hidden.

A few minutes later, the Jacuzzi turned itself on again.

“Hey hey! That’s not me I swear!” Dave joked.

We could tell it wasn’t him: the massage wasn’t nearly as strong as his fart’s.

—

We had our dinner at the resort restaurant, which offered lots of wine and seafood, which looked mostly safe to eat, and then went back one more time in our rooms to have a quick shower before leaving again for a night pool party (always taking place in the resort), with alcohol and music. 

As I was drying my hair, Dave got out of the shower, without even bothering of covering himself with a towel. He didn’t mind and, to be honest, me neither, though I must say, he was kind of well-endowed. 

My bro pointed at me, lifted his right leg a bit and let out a short loud blast, droplets of water getting sprayed out of his bare ass in the process.

“Well said.” I simply commented.

Dave then went to the bedroom to wear some clothes despite being still wet (just a t-shirt and those red swimming trunks again), as he always does during Summer.

And so he did, ready in a matter of seconds. Perhaps this wasn’t what he was going for, but his chest being still wet made his t-shirt tighter-looking, making his pecs more visible. Dave wasn’t super muscular or anything, but he was tall, slim and fit-looking, and as I said many times he was overall a pretty good-looking guy. He didn’t bother shaving, so he had this stubble covering part of his face.

“Tim it’s super hot outside, you don’t need to dry your hair come on!” he said, checking the time on his phone.

“Alright alright, I’m coming.” I replied, slipping into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts as fast as I could.

As we approached the door, I heard Dave doing an encore of what happened this morning, only with his mouth this time. My bro uttered a rather unexpected (even though he was remarkably good at it too) loud, deep, throaty belch, which is basically a mouth-fart, so further proof of his air-bending mastery.

“Gesundheit.” I jokingly said.

Dave gave me a thumbs-up in response, though he kind of looked like there was something bothering him.

“Those shrimps are doing numbers in my stomach.” he let out another small belch. “Oof.”

“I’m sure your digestive system has seen worse.” believe me, I know what I’m talking about: this man could eat and digest an entire boar without flinching.

He replied with one more short belch though.

“We’ll see.”

—

The pool party was actually… a bit boring: there weren’t that many people and while we did manage to chat with another friend group (who was as bored as we were), we mostly drowned ourselves in alcohol and random snacks. Speaking of drowning, at one point, Dave decided to randomly push Greg into the swimming pool, as he was talking non-stop about the hard process of choosing his glasses (we promptly took them off his face before pushing him though -we’re not monsters).

Greg being the butt of our jokes reignited the party, as me and other people (including my other two buds) dived into the pool as the music got louder. Us and those other guys basically owned the place at this point, turning an otherwise boring situation into our private party. We kept drinking and chatting for a couple of hours, in and out of the water, enjoying our summer night.

—

At round 3:30 AM we called it a day (or rather, a night). The resort’s staff turned the music off and everyone went back into their rooms. We kept chatting a bit more in the hotel hall, drinking one last beer or whiskey together, before being too tired ourselves. 

The wet steps of our slippers echoed in the otherwise silent hotel as Dave and I marched towards our room (Greg and Adam’s room was on the other side of the building, relatively far from us).

“Thanks for pushing Greg into the swimming pool.” I said.

“Thank you guys for suggesting it.” 

I don’t remember doing that, though admittedly we all thought of it at the same time.

We opened the door and we were greeted by the cold breeze of the sea, as we left the windows open.

After a few steps, Dave took off his t-shirt and let himself fall on the bed, lying on his stomach and hugging his pillow.

I did the same, lying (on my back) next to him. 

I checked my phone for some messages, trying to be as quiet as possible ‘cause I thought he fell asleep, until he turned to me, tired but very much awake.

“Send me some of the photos you took later.” he said, trying to twist my right nipple.

“Doing it as we speak.”

He then reached for his own phone and, still lying on his stomach, sent Dana a quick voice message explaining how we all finally had mad sex with each other, especially Greg because he’s the hottest one.

After he finished recording, he uttered a small belch. Gay jokes are one thing, but he draws the line at belching into his girlfriend’s ears (not that Dana isn’t familiar with Dave’s skills…).

“How’s your stomach by the way?” I asked.

“I’m fine. Nothing that 2 gallons of beer couldn’t fix.” he replied, with a hint of sarcasm. “But yeah it’s all good.” he then properly admitted.

As if it was something necessary to further prove his point, Dave’s statement was followed by a sudden, thunderous fart that could very well wake all the guests in the hotel up. I got startled: I didn’t even realize he was pushing one out! Since he was lying on this stomach, the ass basically looked like an erupting volcano, the poisonous gas cloud quickly reaching my nose: the smell was terrible, a sign of Dave’s stomach getting rid of unwanted waste without actually turning into solid shit.

The 7 seconds rip was followed by another loud, short toot, finishing the blast.

“Yeah, that sounded healthy.” I simply remarked.

Somehow Dave found my comment really funny, and he laughed before his usual “fart smirk” could appear on his face every time he teases me with his farting skills.

“Yeah, my stomach could handle it, as usual.” he finally managed to say. “The real question is… can you handle it?” 

My heart stopped for a moment, because I will never get used to Dave being a chill, teasing bastard, and how he actually delivers without stopping at the tease. I knew I was going to get face-farted and if my ears didn’t lie to me, his farts were going to be huge tonight, even for his standards. I guess it happens when you stuff your strong stomach with tons of questionable seafood and gallons of alcohol.

“You know you don’t have to, right…?” I said, kind of embarrassed.

Dave sighed and laughed a bit, amused, but almost frustrated by how, somehow, I was the one who didn’t get used to such gross kink, whereas my straight bro was more than OK with blasting me, fully knowing that I liked it that way.

“I told ya I was gonna blast you later, remember?”

The fact that he remembers saying that to me while I almost forgot was almost funny to me. I found it hot, I found it nice, I found it… weird. But I guess we’re both weirdos in our own way.

My train of thoughts was derailed by another loud fart, this time lasting “only” 3 seconds, a fart that I’m almost sure Dave ripped just to get my full attention, not that it was difficult: his ass looked great in those red, tight swimming trunks and I could perfectly distinguish his asscheeks.

“Just do it.” I said, cackling nervously. 

My friend snickered. “Nah, too tired to get up, just plant your head there, I don’t care.” he said, resting his head on the pillow, as he pointed me in the direction of a different kind of pillow.

I was speechless.

“Y-you sure?” I had to ask.

“I’m going to fart in 3…2…1”

Maybe my deft movement made me look too thirsty and desperate, but Dave found it disgustingly hilarious, so that’s fine. I rushed towards my friend’s red ass, essentially obeying to his order, and planted my head between the red fabric-clad buttcheeks.

That felt… good. The ass was actually softer than I expected but what I wasn’t expecting is how much wet, damp and cold those swimming trunks still were, yet my nose, a bit deeper into my friend’s ass, was warmer. I could smell the stench of his previous rips, which the wet trunks somehow made it worse, and it felt like I was tipping my nose into sewer waters.

The fart that greeted me almost made me regret my head was where it was. A loud fart, as usual, which made my head shake; the water trapped deep into my friend’s ass produced some weird sounds, as if his anus was gargling. I could feel a “fizzy” sensation tickling my nose, my head completely blocking what felt like a powerful geyser of flatulence. 

I didn’t know if I could handle it, to be honest: the whole thing reeked like sewers and, well, shit. Dave claimed that he was feeling well, but those roars basically were his stomach turning shit into pure gas. Fart fetish or not, you learn to recognize your gassy friend’s farts, especially when he’s this talented.

The blast lasted 11 seconds, finishing off with a wet quack-like sound, which my friend actually found gross and hilarious.

“You sure you can handle it?” he threatened, knowing exactly how revolting his farts were being tonight.

“We’ll see.” I replied, echoing what he said earlier about his stomach, which he noticed.

“Well then.”

He reached for my head and grabbed it, pushing it, with a firm grip, even deeper into his anus. The thin, red fabric of his swimming trunks was the only thing separating me from the gassy hell that was my friend’s ass… and it was basically useless: Dave could very well be face-farting me bare-ass for how terrible the stench was.

I got jump-scared by a new blast erupting into my face; while pushing the fart out, Dave wiggled his ass left and right, wiping his wet ass on my face. The gargle-like sounds returned, and I felt the red trunks getting wetter, a sign that more water was being sprayed out of my friend’s ass due to the sheer power of his fart. Even though yes, it was water, it was still coming from the depths of my friend’s anus, so you can only imagine how much my nostrils were suffering in that moment.

The fart changed pitch as Dave wiggled his ass, going from an higher-pitch to a deeper one; this had nothing to do with the butt moving, as my friend is just that good at “sound-designing” (as he once put it) his own farts. Probably a side-effect of being able to fart on command, though those were all natural.

And they were all natural indeed as I never heard farts on command being this wet, not from my bro at least. Don’t get me wrong, Dave was a pro, I knew he wasn’t gonna shit on my face, but damn if the mixture of an entire multiple showers, a pool party and questionable shrimps weren’t messing with the sound of his blasts.

And the smell…

Those incredible displays of flatulence smelt like fucking shit and sewer and this on-going fart was just pure stench being shoved down my throat: I could almost taste those damn shrimps. After 16 long seconds, finally, it got less loud and as he ripped the final toots before properly stopping, Dave turned his head to check on me, but as his eyes landed on my face being devoured by his red-clad asscheeks, he laughed like the teasing, open-minded bastard that he is.

“Don’t you just love the soothing sound of the waves?”

Funny thing is, we could actually hear the so-called soothing sound of the waves from our room.

Well, as long as it’s silent.

And with Dave brewing a big one already, the silence wasn’t gonna last long.

Predictably enough, his ironic statement about the waves was followed by another rip right into my face, as he still held my head still, at the mercy of his asscheeks. It was a quick, wet thunder, lasting about 3 seconds, but damn if it was loud, perhaps the loudest one so far somehow, and one of the loudest farts I ever heard from Dave in general. The putrid stench it produced matched its power: my eyes got teary because of the dense, warm gas.

But my bro wasn’t done: still lying on his stomach and holding my head where it belonged, he spread his legs wide, occupying the entire king-sized bed, with my nose being “pulled” even deeper into the moist-y depths of his red-clad anus. I could taste the “swamp” those red swimming trunks became, now even more wet because of my own sweat. 

Also, since we’ve been to a pool party, the nauseating stench of Dave’s farts was accompanied by a faint smell of chlorine, which gave the blasts an oddly “pungent” scent (well, more than usual).

A moment of silence, another silence that was doomed to not last, then I heard my friend laugh a bit. 

“Goodbye, Tim”

When even Dave says stuff like that, you know he’s brewing a giant one.

And a giant fart it was, the final result of a long beach day, questionable food and lots of alcohol. It sounded like a chainsaw and again it had that gargle-like sound going on. I felt one more time my nose being tickled by that “fizzy” feeling coming from his anus as more water was being sprayed out of his ass, his red trunks barely able to contain that. 

The wet blast probably woke other guests I’m sure, as it was, probably, the loudest fart I ever heard, period. Or at least that’s how it sounded to me, as my face was being forcefully held there by my friend, one with the source of those beautiful farts.

Dave didn’t need to hold my head however, because I wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t want to. 

As the loud rip pierced my eardrums, I took deep breaths and I could taste that sewer-like ass in all of its raw, gross nature. My head was shaking, the entire bed was shaking. My cock was rock hard and I knew I was reaching my breaking point.

So… I just let it happen, my own shorts conveniently hiding any evidence. I decided to embrace the best, non-verbal compliment I could make to my friend’s skills and I came right on the spot.

Not proud of it, but what I experiencing was way too hot, hot beyond my wildest dreams.

I was running out of breath, but the fart didn’t want to end. Even after I came, I still enjoyed every second of that so I kept my nose into that red swamp. 

20 seconds… how is it possible to fart like this? Considering it was all natural, why does a guy like him even need to fart on command? That’s just… too OP, but damn please don’t dare to nerf him.

I finally felt Dave’s hand letting my head go but the blast was still going, so I kept my head there as long as I could… but that was too much even for my trained nostrils.

I got back up, finally breathing some proper air, even though the entire room smelt like shit anyway.

I looked down, Dave’s ass still roaring, with my friend turning around to stare at me with his knowing, smug smirk, as he effortlessly kept casually ripping such a loud fart.

Before I could flee into the bathroom, leaving him to finish ripping this fart alone, Dave bent his legs up and, from behind, easily pulled (or rather, pushed) me down into his ass again, face-farting me for a couple of more seconds.

He then finished ripping the 32-seconds long blast, ending it with a louder toot.

Finally, the room went silent for real.

Dave was laughing like a jerk and finally let me go. I remained a couple of more seconds with my head planted into his wet, red-clad ass (he didn’t seem to mind) until I finally got up and managed to sit on the bed, even though I looked completely startled, unable to function properly.

Can you get drunk on you friend’s farts?

I was speechless, I just didn’t know what to say. 

I knew that Dave was gonna face-fart me tonight but I would have never expected his farts to be this strong, both sound-wise and stench-wise. This was an impressive feat even for him, this fuckin’ man, a man who always rips massive farts around us, around me, and on me.

“Looks like you couldn’t handle it.” he commented, adjusting his position, now lying on his back.

I stuttered something, trying to both thank him and insult him, which he found amusing.

I finally went into the bathroom and, further evidence of Dave’s hot farting skills, I masturbated. I basically had to as I was rock hard again. The sound of his blasts was still echoing into my ears and my nostrils were still burning because of that sewer-like smell. 

I came embarrassingly fast, a matter of dozen of seconds.

As I came, I heard Dave ripping another, muffled fart from the bedroom, a pretty standard one in terms of length… but I was empty, tired, even though it sounded just as good as the previous ones, albeit very short.

I need a cold shower.

Dave is right: I can’t handle this.

…

And I fucking love it.

The End

[krisluxxeeempress]

VENUS OPPOSITE MARS SYNASTRY | ASTRO SYNASTRY SERIES

Girls come from Venus and boys come from mars, complete opposites but attracted towards each other nonetheless, right? The thing is, mars and Venus respectively, create a superficial and short-term connection which resembles most relationships these days.

This synastry doesn’t have a love at first sight vibe. It’s more of a lust at first sight. Everything with this synastry especially in the beginning is contingent on appearances and the tension of what sex with the other will be like. I will acknowledge that plenty of relationships that started off sexual and based on appearance has lead into a long-term commitment however, we aren’t there yet and sharing this synastry aspect with another will not reveal long term, just short term. The here and now.

The Venus person does everything within their power to be attractive to the mars person and the mars person does everything within their power to conquer the Venus person. This is a runner/ chaser synastry. This is “two can play that game” synastry. This is “ playing hard to get” synastry and in most cases, once the other has gotten what was given- it’s over. You need to understand that Mars and Venus are both superficial and operate on a surface level. There’s no depth and if you share this synastry with someone, and if you are honest with yourselves, you know this is true. This depth i speak of is saved for long term commitments, where your partner is able to see you without your makeup, without money or when you're smelling funny.

Depth in a relationship is a turn off and the main reason those with this synastry run away from the other or end things because it implies seriousness. The energy this synastry exudes is unable to appreciate the other without the extra, the glitz, the glamor, fun and sex- no strings attached. Imagine being at the gym. The Venus person, if she’s the woman, will show up with hair and makeup done with tight fitting or minimal clothing to be viewed as attractive. The Mars person, if he’s the man, will show up similarly but he will add emphasis on lifting heavy weights- mainly arms or chest or some exercise where his junk imprint is seen. Do not get me wrong, the Mars and Venus person are both trying to be attractive, but the Venus person will be more obvious and suggestive. My point is, both parties are showing up to the gym, where the expectation is to grind, sweat, focus and be ugly- but instead they show up the complete opposite because they are there to attract and turn someone or everyone on. They are both striving to be sex symbols.

They both want to be desired in a sexual manner. Before moving on to my next point, if Venus is the woman, she will absolutely be squatting, bending over and just being suggestive with her movements while acting oblivious. Same concept if the roles are reversed with Venus being the man and mars being the woman. Regardless, the Venus person will always be the overt one trying to appear sexy because this makes them feel important especially if they accomplish attracting the mars person. In most cases everyone will want the Mars person more than Venus person. So for Venus to capture the Mars person it’ll be an accomplishment.

I’m sure you expected me to say that everyone wants the Venus person, but no. Let’s say Venus is the woman. How many times have you seen attractive women who all want, compete and hate the next women over a man ie. The Mars person. Now, how many times have you seen a man ie. Mars, fighting another man over a women ie. Venus ?

Only in long term relationships but as I’ve already established, this synastry aspect is not about a long-term relationship- you, see? Generally speaking, a man is never going to fight another man over a women that they aren’t serious about. In worse but common cases, you will find the man more than willing to share the woman. The same cannot be said for women. Women do not want to share a man and this is when fighting, jealousy and drama come into play. Emphasis on the word play! Venus opposite Mars is all about games. If at any point you became confused while reading or listening to this, you can expect this dynamic to bring about confusion as well, which is part of the game of attraction and superficial “love”.

It makes things exciting. This is the synastry for those in situationships or those acting like a couple but not actually being in one officially. If at any point one person begins to want or demand more, you will witness a breakup or another person being added into the mix to cause drama. This drama is strategically inserted with intent to deviate from a commitment and usually the Mars person is the creator of such a strategy. The Venus person will always try to make the Mars person jealous and the Mars person will respond by actually making the Venus person jealous by following through and getting someone else that Venus person will inevitably compete with. The Mars person will play to win, always remember that. The mars person will take away the Venus person’s power with a quickness. An example of this would be the Venus person thinking they’re the prize, they look good and assume the Mars person cannot do better. The Venus person may even resort to withdrawing sex as a strategy in her game. The Mars person in turn, will then go out and find multiple others to have sex with and who usually look better than the Venus person.

The Mars person game is about dominating and conquering even if that means doing so in alternative ways. Mars doesn’t have to sex with the Venus person to hurt or make the Venus person jealous. The Mars person is ruthless in this game and Venus does not stand a chance though it may appear so in the beginning. The Mars person considers themselves the winner of this game, the moment the Venus person gives Mars attention. So, if you are the Venus person reading or listening to this claiming you haven’t had sex with Mars yet , while assuming you still hold power, I am sorry to say you are wrong. It’s like a cat and mouse game with Venus being the mouse. And like mice, just because they’re fast and elusive, the cat always wins in the end. This is not a synastry aspect to frown upon because opposites make a whole therefore, these individuals like this game, this dynamic. They are different but alike all the same. Again, women love men and men love women no matter how different they are. They are still attracted to each other and go through all the motions of being with someone that is their opposite. What works for me may not work for another therefore, I am not saying this is a bad or negative synastry to share with someone. It works for them until it doesn’t.

When we observe relationships that start off like this, usually someone wants things to evolve into something more serious and that’s when the opposition arises and can no longer be ignored, laughed, or fucked away.( like before) Like I said, oppositions make a whole so at some point one person in this synastry will crave to become whole and the other person will begin to resist and start a war zone- and usually this is the Mars person. The Mars person will view this demand or request of becoming serious as a threat and will activate that inherited war and combative spirit to oppose the incoming threat of a commitment and ultimately, depth with another person. It is at this point when the Venus person will start dating others in hopes to make the Mars person jealous. Or the Venus person will give silent treatment, withdraw sexual activities, cry to friends and family members, post meme’s, try to appear unbothered. The Venus person will try to become more attractive, change hair colors or turn to watching tarot to see if the Mars person is suffering without them.

As forementioned, the Mars person will start dating other people with intent of recreating this Venus opposite Mars synastry. Mars will have sex with others and secretly compare the others to the Venus person. It is during this time that the Mars person surrenders or keeps fighting so hard that this situationship is over for good. This is the time when the decision if whether to make things serious or not.

Like I mentioned before- this isn’t the synastry of long term though it can become that. Mars is the one who has control over whether it becomes serious or not. Have you ever heard of a noncommittal player becoming faithful and settling down? Yeah, they more than likely share this synastry with someone who at first they played games with and then eventually got serious with.

If you tell me that you have this synastry with someone but you do not like playing games or engaging in casual sex and relationships- I would call you a liar and challenge you to dig deeper within yourself. You are what you attract even opposites. Having this synastry with someone may even awaken you to something you weren’t aware of or in denial of about yourself- not to get all spiritual.

In conclusion, if you share this synastry with someone- this is about game playing, power, sex, appearances and jealousy. This can also reveal how your relationship will start with this person and may God be with you if you are the Venus person.

Sidenote: The mars person will not care how good your sex or appearances are enough to be controlled by it.

[star-har]

Hey!

Glad to see people coming to fluff out the jjk fic scene 😊 came by to drop a request/idea/suggestion 👀

Gojo receiving from reader | y/n a bag of his favorite sweets and getting instantly disarmed by it (it’s so genuinely heartwarming he has no cheeky comeback).

Bye and wish you a jolly one here on Tumblr 💜

Sugar

| gojo satoru x reader | fluff |

“really?” gojo shouts, amused, as he leans further along the balcony’s fence. “i could dodge that in my sleep, megumi!” he laughs as he watches maki strike yet another hit, her sword sweeping megumi off his feet.

megumi scowls where he’s splayed out across the grass, eyes set in narrow lines, glaring up at him. “maybe if you actually helped,” megumi scoffs dully, pushing off the grass.

“where’s the fun in that?” gojo laughs, waving his hand lazily. “you’re doing fine. just… less whining more winning, ‘kay?”

“i swear to god, gojo—” megumi continues— and he’s on his ass again, maki cackling where she points her katana at his chest.

gojo knocks his head back, rumbling with laughter and turns to find the next sparring duo. panda and yuji, however, are nowhere to be seen. and with a short scan of the field, he finds itadori climbing up the hill to where he’s standing.

“can we please stop training, gojo-sensei,” he says as soon as he’s in earshot, doubling over with his hands gripping his knees. he’s huffing and puffing, raging for breath.

gojo’s grin remains, pushing off the fence and crossing his arms on his chest. “a break? already?” yuji nods, gojo laughs harder. “you won’t become a top-tier sorcerer by taking breaks—”

his words get interrupted by a shriek, and gojo’s attention snaps down to the field to find nobara squealing, waving up at— you.

he spies you walking through the tree line, a smile tugging your lips as you crouch down by the top of the stairs to high-five nobara and greet the rest of his students.

“hey, you guys!” you shout, the rest of your words being drowned by everyone’s cheers.

he looks back to yuji, surprised to find he’s already half-way across the field, heading to where you’re standing.

gojo sighs with a smile and follows after him, lazily shoving his hands into his pocket.

“well, well,” he begins as he comes to stand behind you.

ever the composed woman, you don’t even flinch at his sudden voice, standing and turning around, eyes narrowing up at gojo.

“look who decided to grace us with their presence?” he smirks lazily, emanating ignorance, head cocking to the side.

“hello to you too, satoru,” you reply.

gojo scans you quickly, scrutinizing— you’re mission had been to exercise a special grade curse and surprisingly, it had taken you nearly an entire day. despite your immense skill when it came to sorcery, gojo’s always had a way of worrying when it came to you.

and when he inspects you, he’s elated to discover there are no new scars or bandages. in fact, you seem as happy as ever; with the weather warming up, gone is your usual uniform, replaced by a pretty sundress. it’s white, with blue flowers littering its fabric, ending by your calves.

“not exactly,” you smile and turn to his students. “i’m here to see just how much you’ve been burning out these kids.”

“not that much,” is gojo’s immediate response, and he musters an eye roll as his students contradict his previous response.

“we’ve been out here for hours!”

“kelp.”

“and it’s crippling with heat!”

“hey, i told you guys we could find a shadier spot but you didn’t listen to me.” gojo sighs dramatically, standing beside you now.

“oh, you’re full of it—”

“hey what’s that bag in your hand?” gojo recognizes the voice as yuji’s, and he turns to find you fisting a white, paper bag in your left hand. he hadn’t spied it earlier because it was obscured by your dress.

“oh, this?” you bring it up into the air, smiling giddily. you turn on your heel and shove it into gojo’s face. “for you, satoru!”

“for me?” he frowns but takes it from your grip, nonetheless. “what’s the occasion?”

“no reason,” you wave your hand. “can’t a friend get her friend a gift once in a while?”

gojo’s eyes narrow suspiciously, eyeing your smile and then the bag.

“well, open it, will you?” nobara scowls.

he narrows his eyes and pries the bag open where’s it’s taped at the top, eyes widening and grin faltering as he sees its contents— treats.

all kinds— tarts, lemon drops, cupcakes, mochi, macarons.

“you got these…” he trails off, stomach doing a flip. he turns to glance up at you, barely paying any heed to the bag being ripped from his grip by one of his students, eagerly searching what’s got him at a loss for words.

instead, he stares at you confused.

“just thought you might like them,” you smile softly, eyes warm. “picked them up as souvenirs on my mission in kyoto.”

“oh, these look great!” yuji exclaims, handing the bag over for his sensei to take once more— which he does, silently. “i’ll have to help myself to one later!”

his students continue with the conversation, but gojo only barely registers what they’re saying, instead watching you with keen eyes.

you stare at him expectantly, frowning.

“you bought these for me?” his voice comes out in a higher pitch than he had liked.

you nod, surprised, clearly not expecting this reaction. no cheeky comebacks, no insults— just quiet and processing. very odd on his part.

“sensei, are you blushing?” nobara gasps, mouth dropping, and his students erupt in shock.

gojo’s quick to respond, shaking out of his current, elated state. “i— what, no. just… surprised is all. get back to training.” he turns to you again, blatantly ignoring their groans, and offers a tight-lipped smile, only growing redder. “thank you.”

“the lemon drops were my personal favourite,” you say. “but you’d probably like the tarts! there’s two flavours— chocolate and berry.”

“I’ll give them a try,” he replies. “you’re really something, you know that?”

you shrug lazily, scrunching your nose. “someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“can’t have me going too cocky, huh?”

you nod slightly and offer a loud goodbye to his students, and to his awe — and delight — drop a small kiss on his cheek, before turning and disappearing into the forest.

he stares after you, skin tingling where your lips had just been, fingers grazing lightly across his cheek.

gojo’s bubbling, glowing. that’s why he barely pays attention to his students eyeing him with knowing looks and mischievous expressions.

———

omg my first request ahhhh thank you so much!! absolutely adore this idea so thank you for suggesting 🫶🫶

i hope you enjoyedddd i know it’s a bit rough and rushed but I’ve caught a cold and need severe sleep so spare me 🙏🙏

kisses,

har xx