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arvandus · 3 years

Text

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

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rouge-the-bat · 2 years

Note

Hey I have been struggling lately and don’t really have anyone to talk to who would understand. I’m a nonbinary mspec lesbian and sometimes I have (sorry for the tmi) high sex drive but also I go through bouts of being sex repulsed is there something wrong with me or could I also be on the asexual spectrum? I don’t know much about the asexual community and as soon as I say I’m a mspec lesbian I get a lot of hate/harassment and stuff. I don’t know who else to turn to tbh.

hey sorry youve been struggling :Oo yea it sucks not having many ppl in the community to come to :( i may not have much energy to, but i like trying to help if i can! (also hey nonbinary mspec lesbian solidarity!)

first off, ill say that sex drive, sexual attraction, and being sex [favorable/indifferent/repulsed] are all separate categories, that can sometimes coincide or effect each other, but not always!

for example, i may be asexual and sex repulsed, but i still have a bit of a sex drive- which basically means my body will get into Moods sometimes unrelated to anyone (well, besides for a couple fictional characters, but no one irl) and i just have to take care of that to get it over with. my sex drive doesnt match up with my lack of sexual attraction and discomfort with the idea of engaging in sex. there can be any sort of mix and match of these three categories for people, and they can fluctuate too for some!

at the very base of it, asexual is specifically about lacking sexual attraction (or for the acespectrum- not experiencing it as often as others). which means some aces dont engage in sex but some do. some aces have no sex drive while others have high ones. it all varies by person! and in my experience the ace community does accept those that are allosexual (does have sexual attraction) but lack a sex drive or are sex repulsed, as a lot of aces tend to experience those too in varying degrees and are here to support those with different relationships with sex, whatever way it may be.

sex repulsion doesnt automatically mean theres something wrong- if its caused by something of a distressing nature then its potentially something to seek help for if thats what youd want, but otherwise its nothing alarming. my sex repulsion isnt sourced from anything, i just find the idea of partaking in sex to be deeply uncomfortable and gross to me. i dont like genitalia or bodily fluids or insertion or anything.

and sometimes each of these categories can be fluid for some, some will have a rare case of sexual attraction, or their sex drive can spike some days, or sometimes theyre sex indifferent and the next day theyre sex favorable or sex repulsed, or any other number of things.

theres a lot of terms out there that im not familiar with, but there could be something out there specifically about fluctuating sex repulsion under the ace umbrella. but whether there is or not, if you think during these times of sex repulsion that simply "ace" is a viable label to get your feelings across (like in a "well theres Something going on here with my relation to sex" way), even temporarily or on the occasion, then i say go for it!

i hope any of these helps at all! if you have more questions or anything just lmk and ill do my best to help :3!

#starry asks #ace #asexual #sex repulsion #sex drive #ask to tag?#queer

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promisedangel · 7 years

Text

The Dark Spiral

This is a paid commission for an irl friend of mine who asked me to take as many moments from his fight with depression as possible and weave it into a small tale with a special, not real so don’t worry, end. I admit this is a lot more fragmented than my usual work, but vignettes are really all I could dig up.

Enjoy

It started off with just a question from myself, “James… are you okay?” I looked at my friend across the table, his head facedown and nested in his arms. He mixed a whine and a moan, “I’m fine.” I knew better. We knew better. Behind me, I felt her materialize. My beloved creation. My genie, Clara. Only I could see her currently. She whispered in my ear, her long silver hair draped past, “It’s the same as you.” She was right. The disinterest in the Pokémon TCG league around him, of which he was an unofficial gym leader, the lack of focus... This was depression. The same kind I suffered.

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The ongoing weeks showed many more signs. Lack of interest, appetite, and aloofness for anything other than myself or Clara. He ended up quitting his gym leader position and began to go to league less often. He at first said he didn’t have money for the bus, but then we worried after three straight weeks of not going. Thankfully, his mother saw what was happening. She signed him up for therapy. He confided in me in person, “Hey… could you not tell anyone yet that I’m going to therapy? I just…” He sighed, “I just don’t want anyone else to know yet.” I frowned, “Okay…” He smiled, “My first appointment is the 30th. Can… you be there for support?” I grimace, “I dunno if they’ll let me in… I’m not family…” “I’m sure we can think of something.” “…I’ll be there.” He gave a look of relief, “Thanks, Amy.” The day comes, and the homework I have is mountainous. I try to focus on it, try to get some of it done. After a few hours, I feel confident enough to take a break. I notice the time. I remember and panic. I begin to cry, “No…” I want to confide myself with someone, but I remember my promise. I quickly pull out my phone and text James in a panic, “I’m so sorry I was wrapped up in my homework that I totally forgot! T.T you’re probably in session right now or about to be. Gods, this is horrible of me.” I get a text back from James, “We’re here…” I continue with tears streaming down my face, “I don’t know if I could do anything there, I would be so late, gods the one time I don’t set an alarm is always the most important things!” I pause, I can feel Clara try to physically console me, but it goes right through my back. Forever a ghost on my plane of existence. She silently resigns herself to watch as I text James again while in sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…” Through my sobs, I hear Clara, “You… can still go…” I sniffle and close in on myself, “But-“ Clara floats in front of me from above, her face curious, but playful, “You can be there when he gets out. That’s something. You pushed for him to go to therapy. Sure, his mom noticed, but you were the one poking him about it. You did all this to help him, right?” I sigh and wipe my tears, “Yeah.” “So, don’t beat yourself up about it so much.” She smiled. I ended up going after all. I gave James a hug after he got out and congratulated him on this first big step. Yet, there were still so many bumps along the way.

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He began to be more aloof at league, often not playing any games or even conversing with our friends. I texted him as I arrived at league, “U coming today?” He responded simply, “No….” “Why?” I could only imagine the sigh, “No money for the bus is the main reason. Also just meh…” Thinking he was done, I responded, “K.” He wasn’t finished, “I’m just losing interest in coming to league now. Seems like a waste of money every week. Anyway, don’t worry about me, I’m not that important anymore. Have fun at league.” I frown, “U r important.” “Doesn’t seem like it…” I feel at the loss of how to respond, so I end up not doing so. I find time to enjoy the TCG league, but he texted me later, “Well, once again, I make a mistake in life… should have came to league instead of staying home… or just stayed in my room…” I roll my eyes, “See? Isolation makes things worse.” “No… I shouldn’t have gone and played basketball… would have been safer to stay at home honestly…” I panicked, even Clara was now focused on the text, “Oh shit, what happened?!” “I got hit in the face not once… but twice.” I lightly hit my head on the table around me and groan. I whisper to Clara and myself, “Really?!” Clara sighed and pouted, “Why did your mind jump to a broken limb?” “Because that’s how my mind works.” She shrugged as I continue the text conversation, “Oh…” He explained the incident, “Once while on defense, got popped hard on the chin. Surprised I’m still standing to be honest… the other I didn’t see someone pass the ball back to me, didn’t expect it and well… yeah.” “It happens.” “If I stayed home, wouldn’t have happened. I’m back in the safety of my home though now.” “Did you get some ice on it?” “No… I don’t think it’s hurting that bad… yet… who knows…” I let it go, tempted to respond again, but knew it wasn’t worth it. But these sorts of put-downs continued from him. The sense of uselessness and loss of agency still remained. Therapy was only once a month at best. All the while, he locked himself in his home, often not going to league or even attempting to find something to do.

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He found some comfort in talking to Clara. It was an interesting experience to have the genie either whisper in my ear or possess my body to talk/text directly. One day, I allowed her to occasionally control my hands from a distance as James texted his almost trademarked greeting via text, “Mew…” “Hi.” “What’s up, Clara?” My hands began to move by themselves, even as the genie was far away. Clara typed out, “The sky? But I’m also kinda high up atm. Flying is great when you don’t have to worry about planes!” “At least you’re having more fun than the sack of flesh I am.” “I’m sure you’re having fun! Amy’s being boring and surfing the web while using the tv.” “I’m going grocery shopping with my mom and uncle…” I could feel Clara’s tinges of disappointment, “Well, it’s doing something.” He texted hints he would say this in mumbles, “Still wish I was in an eternal sleep…” Clara texted back immediately, “No.” “Why?” I felt her pained tone, her voice began to echo in my mind. I was now focused on the conversation, “It’s horrible.” “Can’t be that horrible.” Clara immediately jumped into my body. She spoke with my own voice, “Sorry, Amy. He keeps asking… he has to know…” I sighed, able to speak myself, “Go ahead.” Clara nodded before she texted him, her eyes lit crimson like fire. Her inner voice rang darkly yet sensual, as though it was someone else’s voice, “What you are wishing for will not help. In fact, it would only compound your problems. Putting your soul in an eternal sleep will only cause you to live your life over and over again while you sleep. You would never escape the torment.” There was a pause, which gave Clara a chance to calm down. The fire died down, but she continued, “Anyway, if you put your soul to sleep it will merely repeat not just your current life, but you could possibly delve into worse lives.” “Okay… sorry if I offended you, Clara… seems like I put both of you through a living nightmare with all my problems.” The fire inside Clara rekindled briefly. Her tone turned cruel as she gave a condescending laugh, “Your problems are a living nightmare? Do you remember what kind of character development you helped Amy form for me?!” I push Clara out of the conversation, unconsciously texting James as well, “What is wrong with you?!” Clara huffed as her eyes slowly fade away from crimson to their normal blue. I spoke to her only, “Stay there, I’m going to examine you after this.” I turn back to the text to see he has responded, “She’s right, though. Besides, you two have been taking care of me for almost a year now. I probably owe you so much.” I sigh, “You don’t owe us anything.” Clara chimed in once more, now calmer, “Just look for happiness, that would be more than enough.” “Well… you both make me happy… and well... video games.” I start to smile again, “See? Talking to people always feels good!” “I suppose it’s working for now…” Clara quickly took the texting power into her hands and wrote, “It always does. Humans are social creatures, and yes there are introverts, but there is a difference between introversion and self-imposed isolation.” I shiver slightly, I text and speak, “You sound like a psych ward.” James texted back, “Amazed they haven’t sent me there yet.” I grimace, “Those are for panic attacks and extreme cases. Your condition is not in that league. Granted, if it continues downward, it will.” “Yeah, you’re right.”

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James’s depression continued. I began to think of ways to get him out of his house all of the time. I started driving him to league and encouraged him to seek out new activities. We texted each other one night, he texted, “Tomorrow marks 2 weeks… one week from my next appointment…” I text back, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” “Doubt it… still haven’t done the homework she wanted me to do… doubt it’ll ever get done… and I just don’t know anymore about this whole thing.” I remember my trepidation to my own therapist and decide to give some advice, “It always sucks at first, but you will progress with time. Since you have a couple appointments a month technically, give it a couple months. And if it’s not helping maybe another therapist will be able to help.” “I don’t have a couple months though to wait… by then I’ll be like… 20 feet under and my life in worse shape. Why can’t we just agree that there’s a problem with me and I’m a hopeless case?” I groan and rub my temples. We’ve had this song and dance before. I growl lightly as I text, “You’re not a hopeless case. That’s how I felt at first. And I swear to god if you are seriously contemplating suicide I will never forgive you. I will reach into whatever afterlife you go to and I will slap you so hard, you will have a bruise in your next life.” “I doubt I could do something like that. I’d just hide in a dark hole for the rest of my life... All I know is that my future is dim and my options are very slim.” “Then look for new options, seek them out. You could search for a part-time job until you figure something out.” “But this whole thing was to figure out if I could hold down a job…” “It’ll get you out of the house, and give you some money. Look. There are some positions available at my work. Can you put in one application?” “I don’t know how.” “I’d obviously help you…” “Oh.” I could hear the deep sigh, “Fine... Only because you keep bugging me about it…” He applied, and I helped him along the way. He ended up getting a job in the department next to mine. I felt good that I could keep an eye on him. He seemed to do well. It was only a little over a week after he started that he asked me to take him home. Everything was okay at first, but he suddenly bent over and began to sob. I speak, “Whoa?! What’s wrong?!” He sobs, “I’m so useless!” “Wait, what happened?!” “Why does everyone think I’m good at my job when I’m shit?” I raise a brow, “But, you’re doing well! Your boss—heck, my boss likes you!” “But I’m barely doing anything!” I begin to sound upset, “You’re new! You’ve only been here just a week. They all know the struggle and can help you!” He just continued to cry. I sigh, “Just… let it out…” At safe spots, I occasionally rubbed his back during the drive to help calm him down.

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Everything was getting worse. He wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t eat. I sent Clara to console him, as some nights he would cry himself to sleep. Though he could not touch her, they could see and talk to her. He sighed, laying at the edge of his bed, “I don’t know what to do anymore…” Clara crooked her head, confused, “Don’t you have to sleep for work tomorrow?” James covered his face and curled slightly, “I don’t want to go to work.” “But, you have to, right? So you can get money, right?” “I don’t… want to suffer through this life anymore.” Clara floated above him with a pout, “But you don’t suffer.” “Yes, I do.” “Maybe just your mind…” James was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Chara gave a curious look, “What’cha thinking about?” “You… can grant wishes… right?” “Well I am a genie!” “Then... can you affect my soul?” Clara hesitated, “…Yes.” His eyes gained confidence. He sat up and spoke clearly, “I want you to transform me into a character in your world.” Clara looked upset, “Why? Why would you want to just give up your life? It’ll be harder in my world-“ He nearly yelled, “I don’t care!” Clara jumped back slightly. He calmed down and began to sob, “I just… can’t take it anymore.” Clara sighed, “What about Amy?” He groaned, “Shit, she’ll never forgive me-“ He perked up, “Wait! You could clone my soul!” Clara looked unsure, “I guess… I could split your soul in half… have one half keep the memories… then I could do it. But, you’d lose yourself…” James smiled, “Sounds perfect. Clara. I wish for you to do all that.” Clara sighed. Magic began to dance around her and James until it focused on him. He felt a sharp pain in his chest before he felt his soul dragged from his body, which fell on the bed, unconscious. In her hands, Clara split the soul in two, keeping the memories in one. She shoved that half back into James’s body. It breathed heavily but remained unconscious. Clara looked at the soul in her hand and frowned. It looked familiar. A portal opened next to her and she smiled, “I guess this is really the first time we met. See you later, Chingu.” She tossed the soul into the portal before it closed and she immediately fainted.

#commission #irl friends #genieclara #depression #self deprecation

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semem-dar · 6 years

Text

Hey guys, so i’m not sure how to format this, but i need somewhere to put this where i can get some help.

So, if you know me irl, or you read any of my more serious tags, you probably know that I’m disabled. I’ve been professionally diagnosed with a long list of things, no idea what i have and what was a misdiagnosis, no way to tell because symptoms between them overlap so heavily it could be either, or, or both. Who knows. The total list, as of this year is Autism spectrum disorder, major depression presenting with psychotic symptoms, generalized anxiety disorder, attention deficit disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, gender dysphoria, and two specific phobia: one of heights, and one of needles. All are under some form of medication or theraputic treatment, and have been for years, with only minor progress on anything but the PTSD, I am at least being kept out of crisis-mode and have not attempted suicide for almost a year, so it could always be worse.

The situation is, my family is pushing me to get a job. My mother is pushing the angle that its for my independence and self-esteem, my father is pushing the angle that its my responsibility. I recently turned 21, so i need to either find work, or get on disability and stop asking them for things. Either way, they have made it clear to me that it is unacceptable that i am 21 now and have no work history or source of income. The issues with this come in three flavours: i cannot drive, and i cannot care for myself without regular supervision, and i have little in the way of marketable skills or skillsets. Not to mention the standard mental illness difficulties.

The mental problems come in the standard “autistic with sensory issues” fare. I cant be around bright lights or loud noises, anything brighter than a fluorescent office light is too much, and even with those i often need sunglasses. Loud or sudden noises, anything above say, the level of a car-door shutting is too much and sustained sounds above the level of a printer are intolerable enough that i cannot think around them, freezing up or outright attempting to curl in and cover my ears/face/front and getting nothing done. Being allowed to wear noise-cancelling headphones helps, but muffles conversation to a point i cant understand others. Being around people for more than 4 hours a day, 5 if i push it and am willing to be irritable and upset for the rest of the day is my limit. I have difficulty understanding speech over digital media if i cant watch the lips of whoever is speaking, or be provided with subtitles or a transcript. Telephone-based jobs are right out thanks to this particular issue. I have difficulty holding attention, and cant process complex commands well, or deal with things that aren’t sequenced. I don’t deal well with other peoples emotions, and barely cope with my own. I cannot think of any job that would tolerate a worker like this in your standard retail/restaurant/gas-station entry-level, or anywhere that takes workers without a resume, or anything to put on one did they have one.

Driving, which requires many tasks (keeping track of your hands, both of your feet, the speed, the road lines, other cars, road signs, stoplights, the mirrors, the gas, etc), is impossible for me without risking my life or another drivers. I live rurally, and with no public transport to speak of in my area, I have to rely on my parents to get me places. Their schedules are rotating, and at odd hours of the day, and i have to budget for two hours around their schedules to get me to and from college. With the schedule i have now, and their schedules to work around, i cannot find any work during the week, leaving the few days of the weekend being necessary to find work on. But even this is limited, as I cant go far from home, and I still have to work around my parents rotating schedules since they frequently work weekends.

The usual recommendation at this point is to move somewhere with transportation, but here’s the real kicker. I cannot care for myself on my own. I cannot, on my own power, remember to eat, drink, bathe, or sleep properly. I cannot get my medications in without reminders and double-checks. I have difficulty with any amount of flexibility in a schedule, as i get lost when i cannot check either of my watches and know where i should be and what i should be doing, and will instead simply scroll through blogs or edit code or mod games for hours on end, doing nothing productive or useful. I cannot enforce a schedule myself, and any attempts at reminders through technology or mundane means have repeatedly failed. Ive utilized calendars, day planners, sticky notes, alarm clocks, watches, cellphone reminders, other people calling me to check if ive done something, and any other number of methods. Without another living being hounding after me to get something done, it slips my mind.

At this point, i’m usually asked, in disbelief, how someone can forget to eat. It’s simple, i do not feel hunger until i am in physical pain from it, and often only eat one meal a day as a result of packing a meal and just, grabbing something out of the bag as i see other people eating. Often, this gets to a point where i forget to eat so long that i wind up in pain. This, as most people know, disinclines one from eating. You hurt, you’re tired, and you feel nauseous, you likely do not want to eat anything thanks to this, and simply want to go to bed. I have been hospitalized before for winding up in such a condition that i couldn’t stand thanks to this odd spiral of not eating. The same goes for drinking. I am lucky if i get more than 10 ounces of fluids in in a day separate from any snacks i might have shoved in a bag or pocket or other carry-able container. It is a wonder I am not sicker than i am regularly.

regardless, the point is made, i have extreme difficulty with remembering and motivating myself to preform basic daily activities, and will often do without to the point i sicken myself if left to my own devices. I assume it is like living with a large, depressed, child. I assume it is unpleasant, irritating, and difficult living with someone with these issues, and can think of no one who would willingly take care of someone they are living with to this degree short of a spouse or the parents of the person. Seeing as i am not exactly a catch for marriage given my life difficulties, lack of income, and lack of looks, and cannot live on my own, im rather stuck in a poor, rural area, with few job opportunities and even fewer that wouldnt essentially be working in hell for someone like me.

Im certain, by this point, if youre still reading, you understand why im having difficulty finding a job i would want to put myself in, or even be able to tolerate. All of the career options ive considered, that i think i might be happy in, require a degree (which requires money we dont have, and years of student loans, and a job in the interim while you earn the degree), or are too far away, or require a cost upfront (such as starting a home business, or taking up a trade where you have to buy your own materials [any type of craft work]), or simply have skillsets that i can only do part of and would be incompetent to outright incapable of the rest of the skillset.

the longer I think about this, the more depressed and frozen i become, and the less and less it feels like i have any options. I’m at a point in my life where i have been unhappy and stressed and frequently outright suicidal too damn often, and i refuse to even potentially put myself in a place where i risk becoming that again. I dont know how to get past that and force myself to take a standard job. I do not know if i have any other options, with my lack of skills and mostly useless talents. I do not know how to run a buisiness, or have to cost for materials and real trainign needed to learn a craft, or the ability to run off my wn schedule that working from home would require.

i feel like i have no options. I do not want to continue this. I do not want to have no options. I do not want to be here. i do not know how to make this stop. i do not know how i can be 21 and be incompetent enough that i cannot find any sort of work i would be suited for. i do not understand how someone could end up with no motivation or skills or any amount of ability to make money. I do not understand. I do not know how to fix this. Threapy is not helping, medication is not helping, support (what little i can get of it) is not helping, i do not know how to become competent. i do not know how to become a person. i do not know how to get money at a price i am willing to pay or even can pay. I do not understand.

#allen speaks

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vernal-acrobat · 7 years

Text

My Day So Far: Sept. 19th, 2017

Early a.m. I am awoken from sleep to hear the characteristic sounds of alarms of war. War upon America. Ernest Choi had obviously developed a vulgar attitude and persona during his drinking and, (I assert), his secretive methamphetamine bouts. It “came out,” last night, that he had stalked my parents via the internet, in order to provide them with an offer of methamphetamine procurement and elderly care services. He makes trite offerings such as he had, in having me over, in which he purchased crystal meth. Supposedly, Ernest had been in contact with my parents to procure them some crystal meth, and his part of the deal included leaving some crystal with me; although he engaged in bartering with me for some of it. (This all happened unwittingly; I showed up to his place, after he messaged me to come over, on Facebook, earlier on, in the day. This day, being the 17th, currently - although this writing was begun on the Sept. 19th). There was a lot of talk of how he cuts the crystal meth, then he had his dealer cut the meth for him, now he harasses potential clients in order to cause them anxiety, so that they inevitably purchase meth.

Many lives are put on hold because of this sort of unholy intervention. Ernest is particularly lacking in spirituality.

According to the narrative, as it had played out; Ernest was in communion with Kin Jong Pak? ... as to the intelligence breakdown of the America Ernest lives in. Ernest feels at odds with his sexuality; he probably likely adores young petite ladies; Caucasian, as it were. I make this observation (and subjective opinion, though unprofessional) as a result of his overbearing alter-persona, which sounds like Rick Ross yelling loudly and profanely.

There was a party scene at some remote location.

Why Are White People So Contentious? - cont., Sept 19, 2017.

I was privy to the party interior, as a result of investigative reporting / eavesdropping. My parents had become the bullied center of a group of young, old, neighboring, networking individuals.

then:

Just past 2:00 am. I am here. Olive at 7th. 7-11.

Purchased some food and drink, since I’m hungry, upon having been awoken by the war drumming of earlier.

“Bearded import southerners” (ostensibly), were at hand, as I awoke, inevitably (thank God). One passed by with a “hey.” The offhand assumption presented to me was a fight-or-flight mess, surely to feature bloodshed.

Wait! [in “right now;”] remember

... that ‘brother’ had invited me to set up / tear down, as crew / labor on Sept 22nd.

the dealers on Spring at 4th.

Security guards are there to protect private interests,

in this case, the guard that threw me out of the Wells Fargo ATM area is light-skinned / perhaps Hispanic.

Security guards, in general, I find, are commonly black.

An inference? The race of the security guards we see, perhaps, in local areas, contrast with the most prominent gang type in the area, in order to promote fair treatment in racial discriminatory concerns, among the population.

Semiotics of a 7-11 visit, post-2 a.m. Sept. 19th, 2017. Tuesday, Olive at 7th.

... The point?

* Perhaps the opposite race minority is placed as security guard in cases where racial superiority in gang territory is asserted; i.e., by the presence of street dealers, cat callers, trannies, [ ] (follow up re: human trafficking), trite people; i.e. a black guy outside 7-11 jungling some change, in order to ask for a condom; no, he asked me if I have a condom for sale. Trite, I found it. Was he asking if I would like to suck his cock for drugs?

There was some talk (inside my head) of the demands upon the blacks, for being a dominant community presence, in drug dealing, around DTLA: to solicit, to others, an offer of making available their ostensible carnal pleasure instincts to less-than-well-endowed “small fish” in the drug purchasing world.

Detail - There is a white guy inside 7-11 who is skinny, looks like Sting (era, circa) who is hanging out, asking how much a gallon of milk is.

the momentarily momentous moment where the idea for a new Tumblr came up: (Originally: DTLAGoogleLocalGuide dot Tumblr). The guy at Hill St. on the same south side corner, except here; east side opposite, in addition to being one block away.

He “hollers” at a big booty girl, asking if she can have that ready for him,

Maybe big booty girls just pad this asses and wear a sex toy underneath their skirt, in order to participate in the nightly festivities.

An Archetypal Business Entrepreneur could, perhaps, capitalize on this, based on a presumption that this is one of the knee-jerk jaunt-movement practices handed down from the 1960′s civil rights thing.

More... from “Wait!”...

Reality Check? [ ] - A lady, who sounded “Brittney” familiar (or actual) stated, around 1:20 am, that the bearded night-wandering out-of town guys were, in actuality, “just out looking for food. For food! That’s it!

OK! Reality “Me” -

The first guy who walked up

Wait! [ ] -

The asserted “Sheriffs of DTLA” jog around the block scenario. Trannies, come join us. Wilmer Valderrama ( “can’t keep up, then we arrest you for stalking us!”)

An attractive (ostensibly) lady sheriff ( “as I hear it,” )

The actual source and significant intent of the engram? (Suggestion, statement, belief, call to action for the...

Wait!

Did the lady walking, by, again, really just ask for a “dollar of speed?” Or was it “a dollar so I can get something to eat?

...

Am I being a significant contributor to depravity? On account of drugs?

Whoa - whoa - whoa - back track...

...

... for the agents provocateur(s)?

OK! Reality “Me!” cont., Sept 19th, 2017

cont: the first guy who walked up, and did so, and he found me standing up to greet him

meanwhile, I had been briefed on the runners of the area (by night) as having been particularly “made up of” sheriffs. Sheriffs of DTLA, this isn’t WeHo, after all Sheriffs of DTLA hold it down for Skid Row. They make sure that no race riot stuff happens.

side note: apparently, Darlene had become a sheriff, she was particularly groomed for this position, since University of California at Riverside “Days” of incoming class of 2000 freshman.

The ostensible takeaway of the running thing (as it is seen, from my perspective, in hindsight), is that they are a competitive, territorial, and communal people; the sheriffs. The cost of me agreeing with a suggestion that I materially, with my physical and psychic self, engage in a belief of “rushing,” as it were, to draw, from gathered lore, about the Greek fraternal and sorority systems of living, as I had witnessed it. (reiterant, [poot] [I just took a 2nd shit on my favorite sidewalk in all of Greater LA] [perdon] I know): rushing... for the sake of entering an implicit “bid” of my “life’s worth” for the cause of having a career with the DTLA Sheriffs, would be that I submit to becoming IRL transsexual.

OK! Reality “Me!” cont. 2, Sept 19th, 2017, circa 4:00 a.m.

IRL Transsexual... - given that I’m decidedly of a beautiful, handsome consideration about myself (ongoing contentious row; the “validity of my narcissism” in relation to the actuality of expectation of “go handle it yourself, or feed me some dope and jack off in front of me,” (in the case of female caseworkers), or “dope, just dope,” please... “there’s no way your case worker could possibly jaunt as staunch as you, Jay; Whoa.... there (in the case of my male caseworkers). The ‘actual trans’ caseworkers’ disposition? Ostensibly? There was that soooo indulgent dalliance du jour jaunt about “how valid” Jay’s heterosexual walkway - adjacent tryst, just post-DTLA Proud weekend “thing” amongst other things, such as the Los Angeles Times Food and Wine Festival: was, (to finger my butthole and “plop” suck smack it... “Pretty vintage, harvest gold, ultra - pasteurized, custard brulee.” How that is Jay’s shitness, IRL? Pero, like now? Pretty two shits on my fav sidewalk, therebeing, just off hand, for the sake of a total train wreck, in writing. But minerals - content, therein, assured? Shitlessness post first dry wipe - mineral flush status, since last week, (I fought off salmonella, no ER), I got bums, AF jaunting some contentious row - ass shit coming at me, “priceless,” and I eat garbage (pronounced in the French, like “aged.” “Ostensibly I clean the streets, ostensibly like I’m the Messiah.”

OK! Reality “Me!” cont. 3, Sept 19th, 2017, circa 4:00 a.m.

The hippie dude at Pure Life Organics in Hollywood even contended about how coco parfait I come with a triple flusher...

Meanwhile, to get back on to the tabloid reality:

The homeless -est -ass jauntedest bum via Chinatown metro station to LA Recycling is apparently manufacturing true vintage couture “Incan style Barranca” roadway repavement, direct from the spot he never moves from, ostensibly, thanks to his asshole, and abject amounts of humic and fulvic minerals.

OK, the night before, perhaps people by California Endowment, where I didn’t sleep, except for,...

Oh, yeah,

The sheriff’s running thing, at Grand Park; quick and dirty: Scientology belief establishment: remote biometrics readings, re: established (actual physically,geographically within reasonable sensorimotor perceiving range, ~ 50 + people (here, joggers) gather to make someone momentarily “do something” ostensibly universally offensive (rush of blood to the head) such as to appear to be in “La La Land,” of all places, whilst otherwise normal, amidst... normal people, of all things...

Meanwhile...

Triple flusher, (2nd coming, stauncher than before),

OK! Reality “Me!” cont. 4. Sept 19th, earliest traffic. People are waking up, I made my first typo here, today. Solomon Leyva’s mind appears to be present.

OK.

So, the important thing is, is that someone

(we) - Solomon asserts,

(we) got it. Skip the notes about conjecture as to how contentious popular support and shortness - of - breath in satellite public speaking via hearing aid (while reading, out loud, Dalliances Du Jour on a dirt walking track betwixt families, parents, kids, mothers, mothers’ mothers, etc.

Takeaway. I found myself short of breath upon attempting to jog, unfettered by load-bearing- weights parameter [on] and enough, assertedly, for the rest of the “standard” fare of people in the park - on the track, near me; (obviously), amplificated on the main yards perimeter around me, and finally “Jaunted, AF, beyond as the ostensible podium speaker of DTLA via Chinatown (perspectives - check) as far as the aural environment may have “actually been,” or, at least, “as was du jour, pour “gio flex” Vlassic pickle attainment butt-suckling crass aficionado (bait...)

Takeaway, the third splosh of my shit will be post-rooster crowing; we’re not gonna all turn Catholic, all of a sudden, somehow (it’s obscure...)

I can wait.

Thank you - the late night Union Station, for paper towels. I reuse.

Rolling Back the Transcripts: Sept 19th ~5:30 a.m. Construction workers arrive on site.

Asspad aficionado status - Literally: shitless, stainless, stink - free, panty - sales now legal in CA on craigslist, (asifever...) - Status

Shitsicles on mute: check.

[ wait. full stop *** I found this to be particularly stalking depraved, on transcribing to Tumblr. two above refrains. ]

We are the literal radioactive cleaners (and voices), at times, of the transmittable diseases of society, as the minerals (ionic) consumer

Fulvic minerals, though?

LA Recycle Bum

I heard that the bum of that street used to be my dad’s friend, and my dad told him he’d be a bum for life, until he meets my son,” my father said.

He did sustain radiation poisoning, though, on his face, and he is looking considerably less full-featured.

skin boring land-fish alligator parasites are prolific on the grasses close to the ostensible adjacent perimeter (shared perimeter of the circle of impending disease and decay of the grounds around him. There is a public health crisis about and around him.

Opposition: He’s practicing his freedom of assembly.

[ full stop - soooo oppositional row, here, against public health and the parks system of the state ]

Then, a reverie:

Then, I have Simon Shin in my mind, and (possibly) recently spotted at Grand Park. Some of my luggage was stolen, recently, first of all. Second of all, he’s hiding out from me on Facebook. Turns out, as of 12:10 pm, not true that he’s hiding out.

“I got married to you, in my mind!” says a voice. Believably well enough, Simon, himself, on transmitted microphone (active)

“hey Jay”

“hey, Simon!”

but meanwhile, voices from the past preempt whatever intelligence (socially) I had commonly previously done unto others (less savory)

The Haunting Past:

“treat everyone equally” people

(satirically) “let’s be un-Christian, together”

Meanwhile -

my back hurts.

ladies say

“Jay, you need to stop this jaunting that you do.”

“People need to stop targeting people for robberies.”

Back to the Bearded White Guys

Lady that sounds like Brittney is associated / “as” associated

“They’re just looking for food.”

Used against her

How? Via standard daytime bums’ behavior?

no, these, on the other hand, were camped-out, non-standard microcosm DTLA Grand Park locals

Defending bums for bums’ sake

as a dealer (used to help me out)

then, I receive the ugly side of things.

“Koreans’ deprive the unfortunate target du jour of crystal meth for a week, then they jaunt all around the target, pridefully (behind closed doors)

It’s ostensible

I’m not the only one who notices it.

“This guy” “I’ve been hanging out with” threw me out of his place, assuming that my most primal needs of the moment were the same as his (then / current) primal needs. He, as a housed person.

“Whatever that means.”

Rolling Back the Transcripts: cont. 3, Sept. 19th, 2017. Flowing Traffic, Bike Patrol.

[tidbit] pre-dawn hi-jinx

Someone in the street yelled, call 911!

30-45 minutes later, a police cruiser drove by with a flat tire.

meanwhile, back to my sleeping spot by the superior court, on grand.

“Nightcrawlers” have been imported, from somewhere, afar, to my “spot.”

I have parasites and eggs on me now. I’m at the clinic.

They were not the characteristic people who sleep there

There were lots of parasites in the corner where I sleep, with a stuffed tissue placed there, as an obvious targeted discrimination / hate crime. I wear a similar type of tissue in between my butt cheeks, commonly, to help me stay clean down there.

I cleaned the leaves and debris of the area around my sleeping spot, on Sunday.

The friendly, pro-social locals are black, and me.

“Girls” are dictating this currently

Possibly terrorist threats by former peers, at the clinic. Turned out to not be true.

Currently: The Cruelty and Narcissistic Grandiosity of my Peers, of like, 20 Years Ago.

8:30 am - I come to Telecare to go to the clinic. The clinic is closed, today. Now I’m sitting and waiting for the members’ room to open at Telecare at 10. Prior to this, but after Telecare opened at 8 a.m., there were litanies from the children of last - generations’ expats from small islands or some sort of violent demographic. I would literally be a patient Christian man against their pre-workday jaunted - ass fuckboy “row” movement, to make me temporarily unconscious, so that they could do such “vintage” AF fare, such as taking my “top ink pens I’ve found, et al” list current (now former) fave, which disappeared last night before this current sleepful (partially) night, just “inexplicably,” whereas shitloads of poppers were audibly being heard let off, somewhere nearby (enough). The paranoia of an isolated socially tragic David Yang. Juliana Bonilla, who is a life-long “target” object of affection through David’s ostensible aficionado status of getting his kink off on celebrities (that was a sometimes super hot thing, I admit). sic: Features of the master race, though? “My brother, through his two children, produced this aesthetic even more effectively than my own Standard White Guy. It’s ostensible. He shuns his country’s orchard pride heritage for some shoddy cocky one-parent upbringing, egotistical assertion of old and stale jokes (coming from him). Does he really do any vintage - ass

The Cruelty and Narcissism of my School-Days Peers: Sept 19th, 9:00 am, 2017.

- shit? Do any of them?”

That concern is easily just discarded and forgotten as I think about how none of them went to church functions like Craig McGrath, and I (leaving women out of it (sigh).

Tragic personality faults. Inexplicable, incomprehensible publication (self-publishing, to “friends-only” advertised network,

But they did the school newspaper, back in high school. It’s obviously uncomfortably biased against “others” and they don’t appreciate valid communication. Meanwhile, my shit is put at risk, by stalking nightprowlers.

The main point about the white prowlers is that the first guy walked around and just sat there, like something was gonna happen for him, at like, 1 a.m.

* @ the corner

The point? My writing is right now inexplicably deprecating, in grammar. They’re ostensibly hanging out, as a group; with individuals of lesser intelligence.

I tolerate this kind of thing for one day, or up to a year-and-a-half, for a pretty lady. Prettier than Juliana, at least. At least I can properly discern my former pretty lady’s personality traits. My former pretty lady has a sociable attitude and a funny personality. We leave each other alone, to a large degree. Nearly asifever never.

The Cruelty and Narcissism of my Former Peers is Out-tabloiding Law Enforcement Jaunts.

No. The night started off by me rubbing one out. Quickly, in the grass; there were passersby, it was quick. It was strongly suggested to me that I do so. Then, I went to my usual spot and my caseworkers (some mix), current law enforcement - sheriffs, police, intelligence agency - assisted, (some mix), and my former peers, ostensibly jaunted all over me, like some small island nation people are aught to do, being children of expats, who emigrated to the US “because they were too nice” for that place, ostensibly.

What a shame, yet these adult children have no authority above them. No learning behind them, apparently.

Yet, they want credit for contributing their presence and ego, multiplexed through my hand(s) at the pen, at the keyboard, and at the mobile device (hopefully by next week, again), and pretty much, besides that, complete social media blackout. No nothing, no remnant of a person who existed.They are in long-winded, heretofore, yet now, jaunt AF quick reification thereof, for PR concerns (which I manage) (as an admittedly valid narcissist). This is the asserted offering of persona that I, Jay Ammon, might presumptively take on.

Wait!

The knife. Ostensibly, mayhem accessories, I find them (off hand).

Jay is the guy who posted all kinds of raucous Instagram comments and hearts, one jaunted morning, mostly to no fanfare, save one comment: “wow.”

Normal Day, Now (Fashionably Bum Athleisurely Technical Institute Late...) 9:29 am.

It’s OK. For me, I ate ice cream from Rite Aid (ostensibly icy thrifty (2 for $4).

A jaunted - ass - leisure breakfast

The not-OK thing, though, is the antisocial thing. Go to the Scientology Celebrity Center and see what kind of literature they offer you. They gave me 2 pamphlets; one on anti-social personality disorder.

i totally have Scientology Celebrity Center people (grade) people in my life, from my 10 - year tech thing I did, on craigslist. I know som heavy metal dudes, from like Ozzy era, I know porn dudes (kinda just a bit, but kinda some classic shit, in there). This ostensibly describes me, here, before this, and coming: Some of everything.

This is ostensible Jay’s practiced AA speech contribution offering. Jay did that.

Other dudes I just email, at total random, aberrant times (according to standard relevance), and the, I start publishing shit about cock fucks that used to tease me... still do, behind closed doors.

Ostensible threats to my survival are du jour as my gurgly belly, lately. Stauncher than before... still shittin’.

Okay. I’ve been writing by hand for about 7-8 hours. I got an arm tap of affection from a stranger, gave a lady a sip of Rockstar, and I gracefully left the bench before the bike patrol told me to leave, as if I was emotionally and socially retarded. Tons of voices in my head, throughout. One more lady, wait... one more.

“I think that Jay and some others, not mentioned, are social.”

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todokori-kun · 7 years

Text

Well, at least it hasn’t been confirmed yet, only heavily implied (honestly Mutsurie has been implied since the Auction arc)…sad thing is that back when Mutsuki was likable I used to kind of ship it. But now…

Ishida, bring Saiko back.

Urie deserves to love someone who truly cares for him and could actually give him a happy, stable life/relationship (because Saiko is totally filling the ‘Sasaki’ role for the Q squad now that Ken’s gone).

Not this murderous angsty yandere who’s very much obsessed with somebody else.

Also, I’m getting a bit tired of Kaneki making everybody’s relationships difficult. First it was Kanae loves Tsukiyama but Tsukiyama loves Kaneki but Kaneki loves Touka, and then Kanae DIED, and now Ishida’s going to replace that with Urie loves Mutsuki but Mutsuki loves Kaneki but Kaneki loves Touka? No.

The only thing worse than that would be Saiko loves Urie but Urie loves Mutsuki but Mutsuki loves Kaneki and so on and so forth… I seriously hope Ishida won’t do that. Not only would it be terrible for my feels, it would also be kind of ridiculous.

Though that freaking centipede was hands down the worst part of this chapter tbh

I’m really, really happy Yoriko’s alive, but this isn’t 100% fluff either because there are three questions I have now:

Since Yoriko appears to have both of her hands, whose hand did Mutsuki show Touka? (I just remembered that Torso cut off Mutsuki’s hands and put a wedding/engagement ring on one of them…ew. This is getting creepy)

Who was it that called Yoriko while she was out shopping?

Do the other two questions have anything to do with how somber Yoriko looks at the wedding, or is that just because of nerves (she does smile later on when throwing her bouquet, but…)?

(And yeah, Urie has known Mutsuki is biologically female since the auction arc: I got confused about this too because of weird translations, but apparently he smelled their blood and realized it was from menstruation and not an injury. For them, Mutuski being AFAB is an ‘I know you know I know’ kind of situation)

(Aww that’s so sweet! Tysm <3 Wish I had a Shuu irl…I got diagnosed with SA earlier this week so things are difficult over here ;-;

Once we got close, though, Shuu’s dramatic behavior might start to trigger my sarcastic/teasing side…like,

“Ah, so you’re using watercolors? How lovely! What are you painting? Is it me? Well, of course it’s me, your one true-”

“Actually, it’s Yomo. I’m kinda into the strong, silent types.”

“…What are you implying, love…?”)

Luna/Urie (Lurie? Uruna?) HCs:

-Urie’s attitude around you is a bit like this:

Urie around other people: (Total scum. I can feel myself getting stupider whenever I talk to you) Of course, sir. You are truly setting a great example.

Urie around you: (I was going to work more but then I remembered I haven’t spent much time with you this week…ugh, this is like those cheesy games Yonebayashi likes to play) Be quiet, I’m trying to exercise. I suggest you do the same (oh ***** wrong answer)- just to clarify, it’s not because of your looks, it’s because you have to get stronger.

-He’s super organized and has a great memory so you can just text him when you’ve lost/can’t remember something (‘Urie, where’s my notebook?’ 'second drawer in ur desk’).

-Though he’s more comfortable with texting, he occasionally leaves short sticky notes for you when he’s busy. Usually it’s serious but maybe not quite flattering stuff like 'there are bags under your eyes. The average human of your age requires at least 7.5 hours of sleep per night' but there’s also the rare, awkwardly sweet note- 'I’ll try to be back soon’,'stay safe’,'Your hair looks nice’ (when you cut it when he was at work and he came home when you were already asleep)

-Cookie’s actually nervous about making this relationship work and the sticky notes were inspired by advice from the internet.

-when it comes to school and studying, he’s extremely impressed with how many things you’re managing to do at once.Though he usually doesn’t express this openly he definitely lets you know when he’s proud of you.

-He helps you with Japanese when you need it.

-in social situations like parties, you usually stick together and don’t talk much to anybody else unless you’re with the other Q squad members (I think I remember you mentioning you’re an introvert?). Though it might not look like it, there’s a lot of banter in these situations and you almost always have fun together.

-Urie secretly likes your 'weird, slightly pervy’ jokes

-He probably has a secret sketchbook with dozens of pictures of you in it. His face when you somehow find it is priceless.

-At some point you turn him into Hamiltrash. When you try to tease him by asking him to rap Guns and Ships, he disappoints you by rapping the whole song perfectly. He also relates to 'The Room Where it Happens’ on a personal level.

-He doesn’t understand your manga/anime obsession. Especially when it comes to Love Live- one day you get him to watch the anime with you and he remains poker-faced the whole time (honestly he looks more interested in playing with your hair than watching the show). In the end, you agree to disagree.

Until a week later, when you discover Urie’s been secretly listening to 'Storm in Lover’.

(I’ll stop rambling now…I admit that a lot of these were slightly crack-y, though I did try my best to throw in some fluff and serious HCs as well ^^;; I hope you like it! :D)

Again, thank you so much for being so nice and supportive <333 (I say that a lot, don’t I XD) I actually tried out the watercolors yesterday, and though I messed up my picture by adding too much water (I’ve never actually learned to use watercolors and I started painting with them this month), the paper is actually pretty good! I was right when I guessed it wasn’t really watercolor paper, but it wrinkles much less than my other sketchbooks :D

but wait, 'Huge airhead with the memory of a goldfish’? Are you sure you aren’t talking about me? I don’t really have a bad memory, but I only seem to remember the things I WANT to remember LOL for example, I remember almost everything about my various fandoms, but sometimes I find that I have no idea where I put my glasses when I took them off barely a minute ago (plot twist: they were on the shelf in front of me the whole time and I couldn’t see them because of my terrible eyesight. Yes, this has happened before. Several times, in fact).

Burr would later be unable to look Lee in the eye lol. Seriously though, I ship this a lot. Burr is way too shippable ;-; Remember when I said I ship him with Eliza? The fic 'True and Earnest’ on ao3 is what really made me ship them but still (I totally recommend that fic you get the chance to read it because it’s just perfect. So sweet and beautiful <3 plus, there’s some implied Angelica/Alex at the end so everybody gets to be happy! :D)

btw, just found some fanart of Burr titled 'Aaron Burr has strong opinions’

Burr in the picture: 'Personally, I love things…

…AND stuff.’

And they call Jefferson a francophile. At least we know he knows where France is.

Last note of this ridiculously disorganized message:

I just wanted to ask, are you into the MCU fandom? Because I’m very deep into it…I haven’t watched the Iron Man trilogy or the Guardians of the Galaxy movies yet (though I have the latter on my computer and am planning to watch it soon) but I’ve watched almost all of the Captain America movies and all of the Thor and Avengers movies.

Honestly I have 0 problems shipping Cookie with anyone as long as they’re mentally stable. Hell, I’ll even ship him with Shuu as long as it means Urie would be happy. The amount of suffering in TG is starting to be too much. There is a fine line between ‘a little angst to keep the plot moving’ and ‘bucketful of angst because everyone shall suffer for no particular reason’.

I read the new chapter myself (I always seem to do after you update me on the happenings hahah) and I am screaming. It’s like Ishida put a huge ‘No happiness allowed’ sign on his desk and looks at it every time he’s thinking of how to advance the plot. Sigh.

Honestly, it’s so heavily implied, I consider it canon. ‘I wasn’t going to come, but then I heard you’d be here’? Come on, Urie would never say that unless he really liked someone.

Oh, what if Sasaki/Kaneki is Urie’s true love! I mean Saiko=Sasaki and he wanted to see Mutsuki since they might know about Kaneki’s whereabouts… Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to think of something, anything that doesn’t involve Mutsuki/Urie because that has become my ultimate NOTP. But Saiko/Urie is very attractive…

Everyone loves Kaneki. Ishida lied to us, this is actually some sort of twisted harem/reverse harem manga that’s only full of suffering for the lols. When the end of the manga comes, it’ll turn out this is a stage play/movie/dream and that everyone is Kaneki’s classmates who have a crush on him, but he loves Touka, whilst she doesn’t give two shits about him. Yeah, that’d be a nice end. Waaait a minute. That implies Urie will die ;-; Nooooooo, come one, the cookie deserves happiness, his life is a big enough shitstain already.

The love relationships form a centipede. It’s like this a→b→c→d→e→f→g→h→i→j→k→l→m→n→o→Kaneki.

I was studying biology this morning, and passed the Chilopoda unit. GUESS WHICH BUG WAS THERE. I WAS THIS CLOSE TO SCREAMING OUT LOUD BECAUSE FUCK CENTIPEDES.

Oh, those are good questions! Here are my thoughts:

a) Maybe it was Mutsuki’s hand? But the hand looked…. fresh, in lack of better expression. Who knows, maybe Mutsuki just chopped off a random person’s hand to use as bait. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me.

b) I checked the panel, and Yoriko didn’t look alarmed or confused when she turned around, so maybe it was a random person she knew? Or someone from the CCG she met before? (what would they be doing in a wedding dress shop, tho?)

c) I’ll choose to believe it was simply wedding nerves, because if it wasn’t the nervous, it was something else more sinister and there’s already enough suffering.

Oh, right! Now that you mention it, I remember! Thanks for reminding me ^^

That can’t be easy for you… If you ever want to talk, I’m here ^^ And I’m very sure Shuu would be persistent in getting to know you, yet he’d be careful not to trigger anything. Once he’d realise you have that teasing side, I’m sure he’d be a lot happier, because ‘HOLY SHIT EVANS OPENED UP TO ME HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAH’. He’d get a bit pouty if you’d tease him, tho. Of course, that’d make it even funnier.

MY HEART! A critical hit. You really know how to pull those off.

Here’s an accurate representation of me while reading them:

Urie perfectly rapping Guns and Ships is now my favourite thing, especially considering he’d do it with a perfectly straight face. Like ‘oh this? this is nothing’ while everyone stares at him like -_-

I’m pretty sure that Storm in Lover came from my ‘the names can be weird af’, but you chose the one which is sung by the girl that I’m sure would be his absolute favourite. whoops, my idol trash side is showing again.

Thank you so much for this ;-; It’ll serve as motivation for me to survive next week which is the last one this school year with exams (and they’re the hardest ones, whooo). THEN I’M DONE AND CAN WATCH TONS OF ANIME AND REDA MANGA AND WRITE AND SLEEP AND RELAX IN GENERAL BECAUSE NO MORE SCHOOL FUCKING FINALLY.

We all make mistakes when trying something for the first time, so it’s completely normal that you added too much water ^^ Now you know how much you should(n’t) add the next time you draw :p Ah, that’s great to hear! Now you have somewhere to draw where it won’t be as bad as if you painted on normal paper.

We used to paint a lot with watercolours and temperas in elementary school, and my drawing always ended up being disfigured blobs of colour. So I’m sure yours are perfect ^^

The useless things I usually end up remembering are usually animal facts (and, for some ??? reason, heights and blood types of characters. don’t question it). Here are my proudest goldfish moments: Search for glasses for 15-20 minutes only to realise they were on top of my head all the time. Thinking I lost my ID only for it to be buried deep inside my bad. Finding a fork in my bed (I’m not joking, I somehow managed to leave a fork there for some twisted reason). And my favourite: Being late and looking for my shoe for around 5 mins to realise I already put it on. Yeah, I’m not very smart.

Yes, Burr is very shippable. Musical Burr, at least. I ship him with Angelica, Eliza, Ham (to some degree) and Lee. Man, that’s a lot of Burr ships.

Ask him a question: it glances off, he obfuscates, he dances

Honestly, no so much ^^;; I mean, I’ve watched the Iron Man (and went through the obligatory Robert Downey Jr. fangirl phase, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Guardians of the Galaxy, Captain America (1st part) and Ant Man, but that’s it ^^;; However, I was planning on having a marathon during the summer, because I like superhero movies (that probably explains my obsession with BnHA which is a superhero manga.)

#evans #submission

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