#celebrity worship is cringe

[venusiinfurss]

bitches who say they're against celebrity worship five seconds later me and the bestie

got a little too into sunny now i have to watch the main cast's other projects too... FUCK

[feministfang]

Three brave women beat up a shopkeeper in islamic republic of Pakistan for harassing them and all the Pakistani men are so pissed off that they��re sending death threats to those women for taking action in their own hands instead of tolerating and calling some male authority or police. That piece of shit also filed a case against those women for abusing him and as a citizen of this trash country, i can tell he will win the case.

A 20 years old girl, Sania Zehra, was brutally tortured, raped and murdered by her husband, syed ali raza bukhari, when she was pregnant with her third child. This also happened in Pakistan on 8th of July. Now the same men are silent over this or trying to shove the issue of Palestine on feminist pages posting about Sania’s case because "far worst things are happening in the world". Meanwhile, Pakistani women are busy dick worshipping the victim’s father because "he must be so traumatised after losing his daughter like this. oh poor man!" As if that bitch isn’t at fault for making her daughter marry that old beast when she was probably 16.

Celebrities here are more concerned about men’s deteriorating mental health in this country as these lunatics think catering to men’s feelings will somehow fix them. What else can you expect from them when the entire world outside has progressed, but these dumbfucks are still portraying the same old cringe fairytale stories where a simple beautiful, but unfortunate girl falls in love with some ugly psychotic man and tolerates his abuse because "that’s true love 😍" and in the end, she’s successful in fixing him.

But when we speak a word against the atrocities women face in this country, all these people lose their minds and try to silence us to ensure the image of their fuckin country is not at risk of defamation and the lovely Pakistan can become an example of how peaceful islam is. Pakistani men (and most women here as well) are intolerant when it comes to the vilification of the image of their country and religion. And their asses start burning when they see someone ruining it. They even stoop so low to the level of satanism that they would not hesitate to send death threats to anyone making them look bad globally. A girl i was friends with on FB wished Malala another gunshot on her face by Taliban because of her anti-marriage stance.

This is why i urge y’all to please don’t stay silent on the issues women are facing in Pakistan. I never see global feminist pages talking about female oppression in this garbage country. Some feminists living in west also act like brown men are somehow better than white men and they’re more oppressed than white women because of racism, or that muslim men are better than christian bigots. Stop victimising brown muslim men. Not only are they hideous but also the misogyny the south asian society has shoved in their assholes is extremely disgusting and they keep shitting it on women everywhere they go, including white women.

I wouldn’t expect support from brainless libby feminists as they’re probably busy pulling their pants down on their favourite OF platforms or fighting misandry online, but i would love to see all the radfems speaking up for south asian women. Please make it known globally how the Pakistani islamic community is constantly oppressing women day by day.

Use the examples i stated above. Speak up for Sania Zehra!! Demand justice for her globally, and keep bashing corrupt Pakistani law system. Also, don’t forget to defame their religion. These people are most protective of their culture and religion. I don’t see any hope in this country for women, but there’s a chance they will start taking action and give proper justice to the victims in order to protect their so called dignity.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

revisited your new tier-list and had to ask about your dislike for skully. the rest i either saw you talk about or can deduce, but what did the dead boy do?

[Referencing my personal tier list!]

***Please note: these are just my OWN thoughts and opinions! In sharing them, I do not mean to disparage or to invalidate those who think differently than me; please feel however you wish about Skully!***

Listen, Skully's one of those characters I want to like 😅 but I just can't bring myself to...

I found him charming at first, I really did. I thought his whimsical demeanor and politeness were endearing and a nice way of translating Jack Skellington's character into a twisted version of him. I also thought he was very cute when he fanboyed over meeting his idol. Unfortunately, my opinion of Skully quickly went downhill as soon as we started planning for Halloween with the residents of Halloween Town. That's when he starts to exposit his... own beliefs on how Halloween should be celebrated. His ideas by themselves are fine (I actually prefer his version of Halloween, if I'm being completely honest). However, it's how Skully expresses those ideas that completely turned me off. He's so insistent that he get his way and becomes dismissive or defensive with those who don't see his perspective. I cringed every single time he talked down to others for not agreeing with him or for simply pitching different ideas--and while you could argue that the NRC boys were also turning down Skully's ideas, none of them were as rude about it as he was. Some of the boys (like Vil and Jamil) even entertained his ideas for a little while or went out of their way to attempt to console him. But what did Skully do? Continue to sulk and whine. Whenever he asks Yuu for their opinion too, he tries to MANSPLAIN to them to change their opinion if you ever pick the dialogue option where you disagree with him. I often hear people gushing about how it's so sweet and considerate that Skully involves Yuu by asking for their thoughts on X or Y. But when you gauge his reaction to a dissenting dialogue option, he doesn't actually want to hear your honest opinion, he only wants someone to validate his own views. Again, it's okay if Skully wants to observe his own traditions and what he has grown up with, but he shouldn't be going around forcing others to follow him. It's gatekeepy, it's elitist, it's not cute.

You know what else isn't cute? All the tantrums he threw in the event. Like... to a certain extent, I get being emotional and I understand being upset. But to act in the way Skully does????? To shout and cry like a toddler?????? Multiple times??? Over being "betrayed" by your idol? By someone you projected onto and had no idea what they were actually like? Someone you don't even KNOW??? That reads as really parasocial and emotionally obsessive 💦💦 (and if you know anything about me, I'm deeply disturbed by extreme parasocial behaviors). That, paired with his general emotional immaturity, left such a bad taste in my mouth. Yeah, the other NRC students and especially the OB boys act have emotional outbursts too, but those occur far less frequently (unless you’re talking about an outlier, like Riddle, who is also low on my tier list). I don’t know, maybe it’s because I don’t “get” worshipping someone to that extent??? It just seems so… unserious and unhealthy. Skully’s motivation just feels so much weaker than I’d expect of a Halloweenie. It would have helped to know just how bad the bullying he suffered was (which would justify his intense emotions) or more about why Skully + his hometown adore Jack so much (so we’d better understand why he feels so betrayed or why he wants to emulate Jack so badly).

A lot of what Skully does completely disregards others' autonomy and boundaries. Even the hand-kissing lost its charm after a while because he continued to do it in excess, even when the NRC boys largely expressed disgust + discomfort and TOLD HIM MULTIPLE TIMES to not do it again. Grim even actively dodges an attempted kiss from Skully. Does Skully listen? Absolutely not. Yeah, you could argue this was done for comedy. The thing is, I don't find it funny. I find it invasive and see it as harassment. He wears the title of "gentleman" but cannot be bothered to actually study up on what it means to be one... yet he gets so irritated whenever other characters question his being a "gentleman" 💀

I also didn't find Skully to be that threatening of an antagonist. He just... poisons Jack, pumpkins Grim (without even getting confirmation if Grim even saw anything suspicious in the first place), kidnaps him and Yuu, and... then what? He didn't plan anything out after that and had no solid way of "taking over" Halloween. He's a first-year student who hardly has mastery of his UM and has basic. How was he going to get the residents of Halloween Town to obey him? How was he planning on beating the remaining NRC students? Maybe the point of this event wasn't to have Skully be a major threat--but it's still a massive letdown after the likes of Rollo or even Fellow and the mysterious boss backing him.

The only things that save Skully from being at the very bottom of my tier list are his strong first impression and the fact that he does repent and learn to change his ways later in life. It seems like his attitude improved and he became more open-minded too; I only wish I could have seen that more mature version of Skully… Maybe I would have liked him more then.

[forsoobado137]

Hi. old hetalia fan, and I just got back again. Could you explain this nation revealed au/public au? I don't recall encountering this back in the day (god! I feel so old! lol). It sounds interesting.

I don't really know how new it is, but "nations revealed" is like a public au where nations were kept a secret until someone (usually the CIA or America spilling the beans) reveals them to the public. hence the name. There's a LOT of variety with this genre. Sometimes nations are hated and persecuted while other times they are worshipped like celebrities. Sometimes they've always been known/been known for a long time (which is what my au is).

I highly recommend TELL ME A PIECE OF YOUR HISTORY by cultureandseptember. It's my favorite nations revealed fic.

I'm just going to list some general tropes:

America is usually the one who leaks the secret. Either by accident or his government declassifies nations. I've seen some fics where England is the one who reveals the secret (usually while hammered).

The nations get on twitter and post stuff.

Nations are heavily hated because of their involvement in wars. They're seen as murderers and scapegoated as the ones responsible for atrocities.

There are people who are "Anti-nation". They're usually called "abomiNATION", and they believe that all nations should be gone and they're inhuman monsters. Sometimes they stage attacks on nations.

Nations are like celebrities and make a lot of public appearances. They give speeches and get interviewed and stuff.

The chaotic world meetings are revealed to the public, and the public is SHOCKED. There's usually backlash and nations gotta learn to behave better.

Canada hides from the public because he's shy. Either that or he's mistaken for America.

Prussia really wants to be famous but nobody knows or cares about who he is. He gets big mad about that.

America does something woah wacky and gets a lot of media attention.

Nations get caught by the paparazzi and have to deal with them.

P.S. Anon is an old geezer who is CRINGE and STINKY 😡 HEY EVERYONE! LAUGH AT THE OLD HETALIA FAN WHO PROBABLY HAS BACK PAIN AND READING GLASSES!!!!!

*everyone on tumblr laughs and throws tomatoes at anon. Anon cries and has to lie down from their back pain.*

[barbiesmuse]

WELCOME TO NEW YORK ₊✧⋆

;ֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָjohn price + reader

summary: in which john finds a new column in the paper quite interesting, although he isn't the target audience he keeps coming back for more.

tags: perv!john, reader is somewhat slutty (but aren't we all?), talk of sex, reader and john masturbate, perv!john has a voice kink, john is also a hoe, reader is astute, john is painted in a more submissive way in reader's mind, when the true smut comes it won't be this way obv!! this is long as hell and i hate the way i wrote the end but i needed to get this out, reader being sexy as usual!!

HEAD BARBIE'S ANNOUNCEMENTS: hi gorgeous gorgeous people!! this is so silly and unexpected of me but with sex and the city being added to netflix we're going to celebrate!! i'm actually moving to NYC because this barbie has a boyfriend!! alright, now you may read. it's very long so beware!! also yes i did steal the name of carrie's blog i am not that creative i fear!! love you always, xoxo natty.

ps. y'alls little reblogs for better version headcanons & the fic were absolutely adorable i read them over and over!! your ideas and continuations were so so smart. i loved it soso much. if u ever have any thoughts send an ask!! thank you thank you thank you!! ₊✧⋆

Wednesday, October 20th.

John Price was a man who liked routine. If anything was even remotely out of order all hell would break loose. John saw it as a silly quirk, his past partners saw it as a deal breaker. Which is how he ended up here, watching his seventh girlfriend this year pack her things. He watched as she packed her belongings in a cluttered manner. He couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Her clothes overflowing as she stuffs them in the cardboard box. As she heads for the door, she and John make eye contact. John can't help but chuckle at her glare and wave her off, he told himself again and again that he was getting too damn old for this. As the girl walks out of his condo John can't help but sigh. It wasn't like he was attached to these women, they were just simple sleeves for his cock until he found a pretty little housewife. John runs a hand over his face, his beard hairs scratching against his palm. He lets out a low grunt before heading to bed, as he trudges up the stairs he spots the woman's red lace panties. He let out a quiet chuckle before picking them up and stuffing them inside his pocket. She'd left them on purpose. After all, John was a hard man to get over. He would worship you like you were a goddess, all to sneak out the next morning. Thursday, October 21st.

As John made his way into headquarters he picked up the newspaper, exchanged pleasantries with the secretaries, and even gave the nurse a nod. He was in a good mood, and when John was in a good mood all was right in the world. The sound of his heavy boots filled the halls as he made his way to the break room for his morning coffee. He threw the newspaper on the table before grabbing a mug, as Soap walks in he can't help but roll his eyes. He did not have the time for his childish banter. Not after he spent the whole night fisting himself with those red lace panties.

“Mornin' Cap, have a good weekend?” Soap says as he comes beside his Captain. He smelled of liquor and sex, his hair was disheveled, and his pants were unzipped. John let out a scoff before pouring the rest of the coffee into his mug. “No, but I can see you've had a good morning,” John says before licking the coffee that drips from the black pot. Soap lets out an embarrassed chuckle and takes a seat next to Price as he sits at a table.

Soap opens the newspaper and is met with the same column every time, written by a young female journalist. Soap would know because his wife practically lived off of it. He lets out an annoyed groan before turning to see any big news. There was none, the only interesting thing on the paper that morning was that damn fashion and gossip column. John quirked an eyebrow up at his exasperated expression, he didn't want to know, but the awkward silence in the room was slowly eating away at him.

“Sorry Cap, s' just this damn fashion column is what takes up the paper these days. S' all my wife talks about with her friends, I mean I get it. The journalist is a fuckin' babe. S' just annoyin', continue y'r coffee.” Soap rambles, although John doesn't really listen after the mention of Soap's wife. That woman had been eyeing him since Soap had joined the Task Force. John nods before speaking firmly, “We've got a briefing in less than twenty minutes, I suggest you fix yourself up now unless you have a kink for embarrassment.” Soap nods before scurrying out of the break room.

John grabs the newspaper and his eyes widen at the black and white picture of you. He could only imagine what you looked like in person, how fucking beautiful you were. You looked as if you belonged in the Louvre. His eyes trail down to your column, he can't help but chuckle at the name.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

John was more than intrigued he was captivated by you, even from words you had caught him by the balls. As he continued reading he couldn't help but start to wonder who you were. How did you get to be this mysterious woman who he craved to know more about? John grabbed the paper and left the break room, his coffee now cold and lonely. Hell, who needed it when you had given him just enough energy by showing the tiniest bit of cleavage! John walks into the briefing room as if he's in a hurry. He looks around at the men before mumbling, “Meetings canceled.” In ten minutes you had thrown John completely off of his game. Where was the order and routine he usually lived for? Had he thrown it all out the window for a pretty little minx such as yourself? Of course, because when John saw something he liked; he needed to have it. No matter what it took. John barges into his office and locks his door, he couldn't be seen reading some girly column in the paper. His eyes trailed down to your column, and he began reading his eyes squinting at the use of your tiny font.

❝𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲!❞ The guide to Vogue, sex, and cigarettes.

Why do all men have to be so complicated? I swear we women deserve a raise for the constant bullshit we put up with. It's almost impossible to find a man who isn't trying to keep his penis hard! Although I degrade men usually, one of my closest friends just got engaged! He's one of the few who deserve a pat on the back. The engagement was out of a movie almost! Although it's nowhere near close to happening for me, I can live vicariously through my friends. As I sit here and right to you I can't help but wonder if there actually is a man out there for me? I'm not as scary as I sound, I just have a passion for women's rights! What's so scary about that? It's not as if I'm some lock-ness monster trying to lure people in, just a woman who knows her worth. On a happier note, I've found a new bar called the “Cafe Society.” They open at five o'clock every day! They have some of the best espresso martinis I've ever had, and I consider myself a connoisseur of espresso martinis! I go every Thursday, come see me! Although this month's column is short I'll be back and better than ever before you know it. Might just need a man to pick me up and show me a good time, until then you might not know where to find me most of the time; but you can always find me on the 21st. Lots of love.

On the twenty-first, your column was in the newspaper every month. Finally, something else to look forward to besides fucking brainless women. He usually didn't like women who put up a fight, but you, God, there was something about you. You were such a breath of fresh air, you had opinions. He could tell you were able to hold a conversation. You were a woman. Not a girl, a fucking woman. John looked at the date, Thursday. What a perfect little setup, almost as if you planned it just for him. At least, that's what John would like to think. The time was currently 12:35 pm, he could last until five, only for a pretty girl like you.

Thursday, October 21st. 5:00.

As John walks into Cafe Society the first thing he sees is you, setting your purse on the bar counter and making conversation with the bartenders. He figured they knew you well considering you were a regular. He walked over to the bar, exhaling slowly. He takes a seat on the stool next to you. His cologne gently clouded your nose. You look over at him, your gorgeous eyes meet his cold brown eyes and he swears he's in heaven. “Captain John Price, a pleasure to meet you,” he trails off, waiting to be told your name. After hearing your name he swears he's been struck by Cupid himself. He can hear the winged baby chanting your name in his ear. Had you cast a spell on him? As a soft smile paints your sweet face he knows he's struck gold. You turn away, not sparing him another glance for the rest of the night. John's palms are sweaty, had he not charmed you enough? You were an enigma to him, and he was determined to figure you out.

As you get up from your seat, slinging your mini purse around your shoulder John smirks. You were such a pretty sight, the way your curves filled your skirt made him spiral. You shoot him a tight-lipped smile before walking out, your heels clicking echoing in his mind. He quickly gets up, placing a hundred-dollar bill in the bar to pay for his drink before rushing to find you. There you were, looking around for a taxi, he assumed.

“Ending the night so early?” John says, a chuckle escaping his lips as he accidentally startles you. He places his large hand on your shoulder. You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him with those same fiery eyes. “Well, unfortunately, the man at the bar didn't speak to me. I assumed he was married.” You say, a grin resting on your face. You were witty, John didn't usually like that in a woman. He liked more submissive women. But you, you were different. You held your own, you would be just fine without a husband. At least that's what you kept telling yourself after the failed relationships.

“Quite far from married, darlin',” He begins, his hand trailing down to your lower back. You shiver at his touch and he hesitates. You give him a reassuring glance and begin to walk, you wait for him to follow before letting out a playful sigh. “You coming or what?” You say and smile as he quickly catches up. The two of you walk side by side, a comforting silence cast over the two of you. “So besides being a captain, what do you do in your free time?” You ask, a bashful smile painting your face as your pinkies touch briefly.

“Not much, work usually takes up a lot of my time. What about you? What do you do for a living?” He asks, you look up at him and as you pass a newspaper stand you pick up a paper and point to your face. “Journalist, Mr. Captain.” You say with a cheeky smile, almost as if you knew he knew. It hurt your ego he didn't know who you were, almost everyone did. “Ah, interesting,” He says calmly, his eyes trailing down to your breasts, fuck. They were even better in person. He couldn't help but mentally facepalm as he felt a hard-on begin to grow.

“Quite,” you say, pronouncing your “T.” sharply. The silence is now not-so-comforting. Before you can say anything John quickly speaks, a hint of panic in his voice. What had changed in the last twenty-one seconds? The size of his hard-on, that's what. “As much as I'd love to stay n' chat doll, I've got to get home. Th-the missus needs me.” He says before quickly walking to his car. The missus? Didn't he say he wasn't married?

Men, what a bunch of fucking assholes.

Thursday, October 21st. 11:00.

As you lie in bed, your computer resting to your side, glasses perched on your face. Legs spread, lip drawn between your teeth you search for everything there is to know about Captain John Price. How old is he, what he truly does for a living, and if he is married or not. Various pictures of random men come up, none of them the sexy captain you'd met only a few hours earlier. You sigh and let out a sexually frustrated moan, how could there be absolutely no pictures of him. Just as you're about to give up you spot a picture of him with a woman, they're kissing and they seem to be in a tropical setting.

Intrigue takes over and you decide to click on her page, double-checking your incognito window before scrolling. You'd hit the jackpot. Several pictures of the woman and John flood your screen, some are more sensual others are simple selfies. Yet as you scroll you check for one thing, a ring and or wedding pictures. A small smile on your face as you find none. Gosh, he looks so damn sexy. It's shameful, truly. But you can't help but dip your hand down into your panties. Your pointer and middle finger rub gentle circles on your bud.

You can't help but slip a finger inside yourself at the thought of him touching you. He was just so perfect, you could only imagine how his rough beard would feel against your pussy as he laps at it. The burning feeling would feel good, you'd come right on his tongue. He'd be so needy for you, humping against the bed to get himself off while he pleasures you. He'd whimper against your clit, a chuckle escaping his lips as you whine from him blowing cold air on your pretty pussy.

Oh, you just know he'd touch you so well.

As John sits in his bed, his gray sheets crinkled as he fucks his fist at the sight of you. He'd searched the internet for you, needing to know everything about you. You made him crazy, you carried yourself in such a polite manner, he almost felt ashamed for wishing it was your hand wrapped around his veiny cock. You'd take him so well, he was sure of it. A sinister smirk painted his face as he clicked on an interview of you, it was recent and fuck you looked perfect. He couldn't help but imagine your plump lips wrapped around his cock, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as he face-fucked you.

Not to mention how well you'd take him, you were such a good girl. Your moans would be so pretty against his pillow, he'd fuck you from behind so well you'd be shaking when he was done with you. Your sweet sounds only making him come quicker, he was sure he wouldn't be able to last long. And your voice, your sweet voice. You might've been a little firecracker but your voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. If only you'd moan his name, just for him. One day, you would and he was damn sure of it.

As you come down from your high you can't help but imagine the title for next month's column, “My shameful addiction to Mr. Captain.”

[violetmarkings]

Warm | Goo Gunil

Genre: smut, fluff, R18

Pairing: Goo Gunil x female reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: service top Gunil, soft soft sex, nipple play, oral (f rec.), V fingering, some face riding, WORSHIP, mutual adoration, kissing but make it like, really hot

A/n: I love this man sm

Gunil was warm.

A warmth that once felt, you knew you'd want it to seep into your bones; you knew you'd want to carry it with you through every single cold winter day. A warmth that celebrated life and revitalized you.

When you get home, body aching and the cells of your muscles tired; you change clothes and lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling - it was a quiet little ritual. You weren't going to fall asleep, and yet all the things you wanted to do seemed so far away.

"Gunggun?" You heard your boyfriend shuffle around in the hallway, and called out to him. Lately he's been roaming around the house with his nose buried in a book - something he couldn't put down, about the conditions necessarily to be met so that a planet could be deemed habitable for humans - and sometimes he walks into doors.

"Yes, love?" His head peaks into the room, and upon seeing you make grabby hands at him, he comes in and lays his book on the desk.

Before meeting Gunil, you thought lovers calling each other 'love' was something only to be seen in movies, in romance stories of old, and if someone were to do that in real life, you'd cringe beyong belief. Well, you had to rise up your tolerance to cringe and sappiness, because you found out pretty early on that Gunil had no shame. His lips would spill the cheesiest, most overdramatic love declarations without as much as a stutter. Sweet, shameless, warm Gunil.

"Hug me?" You plead, arms open to welcome him. He simply hums and slots himself on top of your body, carefully wrapping around you with practiced precision so that you'd both be comfortable. Immediately his warmth begins to pool inside your aura, colors blending into an abstract painting called love.

"Rough day?" He asks gently, placing soft kisses on the expense of your neck.

"No, just tired. Physically. And your body warmth always soothes me." You begin run a hand through his hair, before you're interrupted by his snort.

"Personal heater." He laughs, but when he rises his head from your shoulder he's sporting a goofy smile. "I'm really happy I can comfort you." He's as genuine as the wag of a puppy's tail, and soon your reaching down to kiss his forehead while his eyes flutter closed. Sweet, adorable, warm Gunil.

He goes back to kissing your neck and you go back to running your fingers through his hair. Your chest is beating onto his, his chest is beating onto yours, and with a carefully placed kiss to your pulse, Gunil makes you sigh and arch your body. A new kind of warmth starts to travel into your body, but it doesn't go into your bones, it shoots into your veins. It makes your blood rush, your skin buzz, and you grow hungry for more.

"Kiss me?" You ask, and the smirk on Gunil's face is completely obvious.

"I thought you'd never ask." He flirts, and your lips are captured before you can make any comment about his seductive intentions.

Kissing Gunil always had your mouth chasing after his. Always wishing for one more second, for one more taste of him. It was like kissing honey; a strange metaphor - sweet, sticky and addictive. He's cradling your face in his hands, honey dripping from the corner of your mouth, your lips so sticky they refused to part, your lungs refused to breathe. You're gasping, kissing loudly and digging fingers into each other's shoulders.

He's like hot, melted gold. Your lips press into it and shape it, shape the gold to the mold of your lips, shape him with the intensity of your love. He moves down to suck on your neck, and the shape you've molded into the gold becomes a decorative necklace around your neck.

As he decorates you, his fingers sneak under your shirt. His touch, his fingers, they're the scorching, but kindly. Pleasant sweats roll down your body as he warmly traces the shape of your hips, the sides of your bellybutton, and going up.

You remove your shirt to offer him access and he doesn't waste any time. His fingers circle your nipples, featherlight, watching then rise up to meet him. He's rubbing them and flicking them with such care, it shoots pleasure straight to your core. You can physically feel yourself get wet, and you moan for him. When he catches your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, he rubs them with intention. He wants to see you fall apart, thing which you totally do. He knows what he's doing, making you arch your chest into him. His hips in-between your legs make it hard for you to get any friction, and your dying to rub your thighs together.

As he continues to roll your nipples between his fingers, effectively milking you of pleasure, he leans down to kiss your breasts.

"So sensitive. So sexy, my goddess." You moan in response and he showers you in kisses, his mouth trailing down, his hands following suit and grasping the shape of your ass. "May I?" Fingers hooked on your pants, he stares right into your eyes as he asks for consent.

"Please." You're desperate and overflowing with love and arousal, and rejoice as your clothes finally leave you.

"Oh, you don't need to beg, my love. To my goddess, I give anything."

You were pretty sure he was magical. He had to be magic itself to make you feel so mythological, so all powerful, as his tongue gingerly met your clit. He was gentle, teasing even, as he began his work. But you were awfully drenched already, one trip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit made you messy and sticky, just how he loved it. He lapped you up, the flat of his tongue exploring you, the tip sometimes stopping in its track to deliver sharp, intense pleasure to your bundle of nerves. And then, he'd wrap his lips around it, sucking as one of his fingers entered your tight walls. When there was less of a fight from your clenching hole, he added a second. You were squeezing his fingers so tight, because of your clit being stimulated relentlessly, that he could barely move his fingers to rub your front wall. The sounds were ungodly, the squelching proof of how he effectively seduced you with his wordship. And yet, to him, you were a heavenly sight.

So close, you were so, so close. Falling apart under him, he drank you up in your disheveled state - whining, writhing, moaning and calling his name like a mantra. He worshipped you like he was at the altar and yet you were the one chanting his name.

You loudly complained when his fingers left your walls and replaced his tongue on the task of rubbing your clit. He clearly wasn't trying to edge you, what was he doing?

"Grab my hair and ride my face." He told you, and you swore it the most shameless thing you've ever heard. And also the hottest.

With your hands tangled in his hair, you began to roll your lips on his flattened tongue. Soon you were a shaking, stuttering mess, his mouth covered in drool and arousal, his eyes bearing into yours with a passion that made your stomach turn. You were sure this man would kill for you.

He made you see stars, record fast. His lips continued to work you through your orgasm as you tried to come down, to regain your breath and calm your heart.

As soon as he wiped off his mouth with his arm, he climbed up your body to kiss your face. You had the biggest, most content smile on your face. Gunil smiled brightly himself, upon seeing you so happy.

"Are you okay, my love? Feeling warm yet?" He was both checking up on you and also teasing you, but you had nothing to hide. His flame had warmed you up from the inside, his passion had scorched you, and his sinful lips wrote secret spells on your body. He enchanted you for eternity.

"So, so warm." You replied, and although you were stark naked and he was fully clothed, he hugged you tightly once again, to really make sure you don't grow cold.

Sweet, sexy, warm Gunil.

---------------------

If you like my work, consider supporting me on my Ko-Fi!

-Admin Starlight ⭐

[riewritten]

YOU CAN LOVE ME EVEN MORE TONIGHT

ERWIN SMITH X FEM!READER

TAGS: porn without plot, masturbation, overstimulation, oral sex (m!receiving), creampie, body worship, multiple orgasms, bodily fluids, also my usual referenced noncon where erwin helps you overcome it, then you rewarding him for serving you with reverence, and idk just rie's usual filthy smut i think

WORDS: 2.1k

REMARKS: HAPEE BIRTHDAY ERWIN. to celebrate, this is a smut spoiling him rotten.

Your muscles are tingling, eyes lurking everywhere but him. Erwin senses your worry; hence, he holds your hand in comfort. "You okay? Oh no, you're sweating too much."

"I think it's one of the days again…"

You don't need to expound. Erwin knows well what it is about. You apologetically look at him, guilt riddling your nerves because of something you can't control.

"I wouldn't mind. Stop flashing that guilty look at me." Despite the firm command, his smile is warm and understanding. "What limits do I have in touching you for now? Are you comfortable with me holding your hand at least?"

When you were still new in the relationship, you always cried when awoken with a body that cringes at the thought of physical intimacy. Erwin told you that it wasn't your fault in any way. That healing isn't linear. You messily wept about how afraid you are that this could ruin your relationship as Erwin's fond of the said intimacy. Still, he told you not to undermine his capacity to understand you. It was a strict reminder, perhaps an order, but the way his smile could still be oh-so warm and understanding amidst would always be a wonder. Thanks to that, you eventually got accustomed to it.

"I think the best we could go for now is cheek kisses…? Hehe."

"Sounds great," he goes on to do just that. "What great progress you've made there," then calls your name in a slight tease, "you're now able to pinpoint your limits without crying."

"Yeah, your lectures bore fruit, I'd say.

"Heh, as it should. You're a bit hard-headed, after all."

Erwin returns your honesty by speaking his limits, too. You still lie together in bed at night. Still, when the cuddles unintentionally arouse him, he'd call for a break, albeit in slight guilt. You would nod in consideration, thankful that he is trying his best as much as you are. Then he quips again to commend you for not letting the guilt bawl your eyes out. He is proud, rightfully so, because he is well aware of how much it took you to be that comfortable, how much chaos it took to be this tranquil, and most especially, of unlearning the tendency to be frustrated at something you couldn't control.

Slowly but surely, as weeks passed, you could ground yourself again in your safe space. That space solidifies when Erwin gives you a chaste peck as you wash the dishes. You halt to grab him by the collar, soap staining his clothes along the way, but he doesn't mind at all. After all, he has a more significant concern: you finally kissed him again passionately. After three weeks of holding it in, his lips are on you again; his tongue is savoring your warmth again.

He holds your cheeks tight and hums in arousal, "You sure have a way of surprising me."

"I'm surprised, too. Remember the first time this happened to us, and I couldn't kiss you for two months?"

"Are you sure you're okay now, though?"

You nodded, "Let's try to settle with kisses for now."

"Mhm-hm," he cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead. "Such a strong girl for me."

You're not the only one being strong here, though—that's what you affirmed when you woke up in the middle of the night and noticed Erwin breathing heavily.

His hands are clasped to yours, and you can hear him moan your name repeatedly. At first, you thought he was sick but quickly noticed the synchronized up and down movements marking the blanket. 

Erwin is touching himself.

You're not even hugging each other—it seems like he scooted you away from him before starting the act—all he settled for is holding your hand.

You hurry on top and engulf him in a kiss to inform him of your consciousness. Erwin squirms in surprise, but instead, you order, "Continue touching yourself, my love."

Erwin takes a while to process the situation, then shyly asks, "Are you sure?"

"Mhm-hm, please—" you whisper, then pepper his face with wet kisses. Lips then slide to his ear; you give it a smooth lick before begging, "Let me hear you."

The gesture sent a tremendous jolt over Erwin's body. You know his ears are pretty sensitive, and you only take advantage of it when you really want him to do something.

"Yes—hah—yes, love," he babbles, the jerking of his hand starts to produce a slick noise. Perhaps his pre-lubricated dick helped bring him a blissful release. You continue kissing him while on it; moans escape as you feel him messily biting your lower lip.

"You'd let me taste, wouldn't you?"

"D-do you—ah—do you want to—"

"I wouldn't ask if I don't."

As languid as ever, you slide your hands down below and join his hand in bobbing up and down his dick. He whimpers, and somehow, the sight of your composed, level-headed man whimpering helplessly underneath you exudes blissful shudders. Oh, to be loved by him. To be foolishly and utterly loved by someone like him.

"Just want—oh fuck—just want to make sure." Indeed he did because after your assurance, he grips a fistful of your hair and then guides you down to his protuberance. The gentleness of his hold says a lot about how your moment below him would go. The gentle touches are the least he could do to compensate for how hard he'd claim your mouth afterward. He couldn't control himself. Erwin, who has always been the epitome of control, could not embody such pride when faced with matters concerning your lovely mouth.

Your eyes widen, and tears build up on the tip of your eyes as soon as Erwin arches his back and spurts his cum deep down your throat. And even after he let it all out, he did not let go of your head. He trapped your mouth in his confines, ensuring you wouldn't waste a single drop because that's what you want. Erwin, honestly, would feel a bit shy if not for your persistence and enthusiasm. Anyone would think that pampering him like this, drinking all of him so lovingly, and more would be because you're under him, serving him with all you have.

But, as a matter of fact, Erwin is the one serving you. He likes everything you want to do, everything you want to explore. Hell, once you ask him for a child, he'd spend the whole night cumming inside you until you couldn't anymore and he's all spent and dry—messed up to his very core because that's what you want.

Erwin almost laughed at his thoughts; it was evident by the way he didn't let go of your mouth even after his dick softened. Instead, he bobbed your head up and down his limp cock, pumping every last of his fluid that might be left of him. You deserve it, after all. Earn your hard work. Swallow every drop. Have him by your mouth as earnestly as he would offer his life for you.

A month later, as if to reward him, you prepared a small gift.

"Come here, love," you speak from behind as soon as he enters the room, your back facing him.

Despite the bathrobe clad around your body, Erwin could notice the transparent cloth underneath. He had never seen this attire before. "You bought that?" he quips as he walks nearer, "That's quite a daring attire. Are you planning to get back at me for touching myself while you were sleeping?"

"Tsk, stop talking too much and sit in front of me," you glare, beckoning him to the soft cushion at the bedside.

Erwin senses your nervousness so he asks, "What's the matter?" but when he finally follows your command, his jaw almost drops. "Oh. Oh my word."

The anxiousness becomes even more apparent, quite unfitting for the promiscuous lingerie you were wearing, "Please tell me I don't look weird."

"I—" Erwin looks away with a chuckle. It wrapped your figure so, so well that Erwin couldn't find the words to express it. "Y-you're—"

"I am about to cry," you hitched in a panic, "I knew this was a bad idea!"

"No, no—" Erwin kneels to your level to clarify, only to no avail because he's still too awed to speak. However, with his eyes twinkling, you realize he might've loved it. A bit too much for your good, even. "You did this for me?"

You nodded, confidence slightly rising upon his enthrallment. "You seem so stressed lately so I figured to give you something pleasant to look at." 

"Well, I quickly forgot what that might be." Erwin's fingers slide to the bra strap, linger towards your chest, flick the nipple that can be seen through the material, then watch your reaction—how you close your eyes, bite your lips, and tighten your hand on his wrist to encourage him more. "How gorgeous, your makeup matches well with the garment."

"For you, yes—mhm—just for you."

"Yeah," he chuckles in between, "my lovely, lovely girl, all dolled up for me."

He holds onto your shoulders and pushes you down the bed, then hovers on top with a thrilled look. Apparently, your outfit accentuates more when you're lying on the satin sheets. Did the fashion designers really craft it the way it'd look so pleasing when plastered on the bed? 

His lips follow the traces of your neck, his favorite spot to nibble and mark, and he couldn't help but close his eyes at the lingering scent there. You, indeed, went all the way. The makeup, attire, the perfume. Oh, what did he do that made you prepare this? He must take note of it so he can do it again.

And so he gives you everything. Months of pent-up desire really did make him go all the way as if to reward you for doing the same. Noises fill the room and eventually reek of sex. Erwin didn't stop; he couldn't stop even if he wanted to take a break. The fashion designer must've crafted it the way it'd look so pleasing when the one wearing it looks so ruined from too much love. The lingerie ribbon eventually fell out, and your breasts went along with the bouncing of his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out, until you squirted all over his cock. Even so, he milked you dry. He kept thrusting over and over again, not bothered by his loud moans.

God, again and again, it's rare for Erwin Smith to lose his cool. If this stern man would be exposed as a sucker for his lovely girl, you could be used against him and he'd have no choice but to submit. It's that bad.

"I—ah—huh—" you babble, earning a husky chuckle from your man.

He cups your cheeks to ask why, a few drops of sweat dripping along the way, and oh, on everyday occurrences, you'd deem it disgusting, but tonight you want all of his tied to you. His sweat, his cum, his dick, his smile, his—

"Fuck," Erwin rasps, "you're clenching. Is this intentional, huh? Y'know I'm gonna cum? Want my cum inside?"

"Yes—fuck yes, yes, yes. Inside!"

That was the last straw of Erwin's control. He spoke of incoherent praises, unaware that it couldn't be understood anymore. When he raised your hips and brought your knees atop his shoulders, you huffed loudly and squirted again.

"D-don't pull out. K-keep—hah fuck, it's overstimulating—it inside," you cried. Even if it started to sting a bit, you did nothing but open your legs more and close your eyes to feel him.

"Mhm-hm, my love. Just a few more. Take a few more. You'll be a good lady for me and milk me dry, yeah?"

"I-I will!" you exclaimed, opening your legs wider. When you saw Erwin's eyes tightly closing and his mouth forming the shape of O, the next thing you felt was him spurting his cum inside you.

"Ah, hah, there you go. Fuck, take it—" Erwin thrusts, "fucking, hah—" he thrusts again, "fucking take it. God—" then thrusts for the last time until he drops his heavy body on top of you. You squeaked in surprise (and honestly, in slight pain), but Erwin just laughed and started nibbling again on his favorite spot on your neck.

You supposed the pillow talk is next, and perhaps after a few minutes, he'd be ready to go again—it's always been that way. However, just as you're surprisingly dolled up tonight, Erwin is surprisingly unconscious, too. His breathing is steady again, his heartbeat mellow. Even if you couldn't breathe properly due to his weight, you didn't bother removing yourself from his constraints. 

You giggled, combed his soft blonde hair, heard him unconsciously hum in delight at the sensation, and you drifted to sleep not long after.

TAGLIST: @frenchdyer @watyousayin @collinnmckinley @aeanya @xiaotopia @cadenza-damour @grimistheangerinmystares | STORY SUBSCRIPTION FORM

MORE OF SWEET SUBTLETIES SERIES HERE

[the-bjd-community-confess]

I watched a few of l@dy dis@in's videos while looking for experiences with the Pear doll and the videos aren't terrible, but the amount of smoke she and her husband blow up D@nny Ch00's ass is bordering on embarrassing. Even D@nny himself seemed put off at times in that interview. They're like peak Smurt Doll owner cringe, and to stan a man so publicly problematic is bizarre. Not like regular "oh he's just quirky" defenses, but to talk about him like he's some kind of genius celebrity and having so many 'Danny Saids' to excuse or justify. I won't be a hypocrite, I got a pear girl despite his antics. They are likely going to be ridiculously expensive second hand, and I'm not willing to pay more for a used vinyl doll than a new one. Anyway I don't want to bash them too hard, but it seems like their hero-worshipping attitude is considered some kind of norm. It's weird to me.

~Anonymous

[eremosjournal]

Confirmation or Child Wedding

an Anonymous Contribution

I just played music at what I hope is my last Confirmation mass. And for all the Catholics and ex-Catholics not talking about it, Confirmation mass is a strange fucking phenomenon, right? Though I could go on for hours, I just want to bring up one thing. 

Confirmation mass feels a lot like a cultish child wedding. From the girls’ perspective specifically. 

A group of thirteen-year-old girls, all in pure white dresses. An older man anoints their heads with oil while touching their faces. Two of these girls bring baskets of fruit to the altar during the preparation of the gifts (it’s giving… dowry). They commit their lives to a man (the cult leader himself) whose teachings they are not to question, and at whose feet they are told to worship. All wrapped up in a coming of age ritual. 

***

Years ago on a Confirmation retreat, I was assigned the “girl’s talk”. For those who don’t know, the girl’s talk will almost always involve some kind of message regarding the importance of virginity and otherwise moral purity for Catholic girls. But in an attempt to avoid this topic (partly because I was tired of it and partly because I genuinely liked sex and didn’t feel like lying), I thought I would give a whole presentation comparing their upcoming Confirmation to a big white wedding. 

All the aesthetic parts of a wedding were there: the church, the flowers, the white dresses. But thematically, I feel my presentation got away from me. In my Catholic delusion, I implied that - at the end of the big wedding-y Confirmation mass, their “spouse” would be God. I, of all people, was telling a bunch of teenage girls to marry God. I was only four or so years older than most of these girls, and I cringe to think of how weird and misled my girl’s talk was. That is, if they even remembered it. At this point, I myself have repressed most of the nonsense I spewed in my time as a youth leader. But I remember very keenly one thing I said during this girl’s talk:

“You don’t have to find a man who loves you so much he would die for you. Because I know one who already did.”

I literally want to throw up just reading that. It’s certainly a compelling line, and I remember it sticking with a lot of people. But that’s the power of organized religion. It artificially inseminates people - sinful, flawed people like myself - with the power to say pretty much whatever they want. We’re all sinful and flawed, so why was I up on a stage propagating purity and devotion when I could have been reassuring these girls that sin and flaw don’t make them bad people? This seems to be a recurring theme in Catholicism: having every opportunity to relate and connect with one another in our innate human faults, and instead leveraging that moment to bring guilt and insecurity upon others. 

If I could go back and give that talk again, I would keep the first half of what I said and probably scrap everything else. You don’t have to find a man who loves you so much he would die for you. Find yourself. You’re sixteen. Your Confirmation will not and should not be like a wedding. It will be crowded and long and forgettable. And you will not marry God. I’m embarrassed to think that I was so far up the church’s ass that the best, most prized celebration I could think of for a girl was a wedding. 

I remember wondering, as I was talking and talking on that retreat, if I was even making sense. But I was so turned on by my own conviction that I didn’t even stop to check if I believed what I was saying. I hope those girls I was preaching to are smarter than I was, that they stop to check if they believe what they’re saying. I hope they see themselves as more than lost brides. And I hope they find themselves, whether that involves faith or not. 

I’m tired of not talking about the archaic traditions that the church still practices and upholds. Sure, there is power in tradition and ritual, but at what cost.

[welcome-to-oslov]

World-Building Questions

Is it cringe how much I like getting comments on these stories? Then I'm cringe. All comments are helpful to me, but I especially like world-building questions. I got some great ones from Rain, who was reading "All the Kinds of Broken," and they gave me permission to copy the Q&A here as a resource. It's probably most helpful to anyone who starts with the prequel story, since the other stories address at least some of these issues (maybe not all!).

Is the story set in a nuclear winter? They are literally in the Arctic (Baffin Island, I think), and at least parts of North America (which they call Harbour) are still habitable and temperate. But the apocalyptic event they call the Unraveling did involve nuclear strikes.

Can you explain the calendar system to me? How many free nights are in a ten-day, or is it ten days of work, then a free night? How many free nights are in a row? I admit I've never actually figured out the schedule. It varies by which ten-day of the month it is, so it's really complicated! The number of free-nights varies from three to four to possibly occasionally five, and they never occur in a row. It's a workaholic culture, and the difficult-to-memorize schedule for Upstarts and government functionaries is yet another form of elitism. The Laborer schedule is simpler and more generous with free time.

When is New Year celebrated? How many days and months are there to a year, and how any holidays? Do days and months have names? For simplicity's sake, I gave them the same 12 months as our calendar and the same new year. There is a traditional winter fest in late December, but they generally shun holidays because of their association with religion, which is considered subversive. (There's a traditional religion some Laborers believe in, left over from Feudal times. The Spark is the main deity figure, and it all goes back to being deprived of power and the internet after the Unraveling.)

What is year zero, is it related to Whyberg? How many years has it been since then? How many years did the Unravelling take, and how many years since? I just looked at the timeline I wrote in a binder decades ago and realized it's irrelevant because I changed some major things. (Oslov used to be its own planet! :) ) So basically, the Unraveling was about 500 years ago. Major cities were devastated, and some refugees moved north to escape the radiation. They lost their tech and reverted to "Feudalism," worshipping the Spark (electricity) but seeing it as magic. Meanwhile, a major Arctic research station managed to preserve the technology and culture of the past, similar to a medieval monastery. For a long time, the scientists kept out the Feudals, but eventually their cultures merged and they had a "Quiet Revolution" in which they overturned the Feudal lords and chieftains and started to envisage a merit-based society.

The Quiet Revolution is year zero. Whyberg is born soon afterward and completes this project of basing social status on intelligence, which was the ethos of the research station. He codifies everything and creates the new government. This story starts in year 341. So 300 years after Whyberg, give or take.

Is sap an opium product derived from poppies? Sap is derived from the sap/pitch of the rare, delicate muirthorn pine, which becomes an issue later because the pine plantation can be sabotaged. According to Feudal legend, owls gave sap to humankind. What it actually is chemically is an excellent question, but in larger doses, it can have hallucinogenic effects.

Is Oslov slightly based off of the USSR with Oslov being Russia and a place like Thurskein a smaller SSR? How did Oslov come to conquer Thurskein? Does Oslov control any other states? Did Thurskein originally have a different language? What language is Oslov derived from? Yes! Oslov is partially based on my vague concept of the USSR as a kid growing up during the Cold War. Thurskein wasn't conquered, though, but built as an industrial city to produce goods for the rest of the Republic (there's one other such city: Karkei). It was always planned as a city of Laborers under Redda's control, and it's always shared a language with Redda, though it has its own dialect.

Oslov has an isolationist, anti-imperialist official ideology. But it does have a trading center in Harbour (formerly North America) and a garrison and exerts some power there by virtue of its tech—we see that in "The Trip to Harbour."

Oslov is mostly derived from Scandinavian and Germanic languages, but the research station had several nationalities represented, so there are also people of South Asian descent, Russian influences, etc.

You mentioned Kafka's Metamorphisis, I think, but what was the Tangle romance Tilrey read a bit earlier? Yes, The Metamorphosis is the insect one! I'm not sure if I settled on a specific book for the romance, but it might be Theodore Dreiser's An American Tragedy. In another story I think there's a reference to The Red and the Black. Both those are novels about ambitious young men trying to climb the ranks in an unequal society, so they have strong relevance for Tilrey.

Is the Upstart practice of having kettle boys raped by other servants of theirs intentional so as to create division within the lower class? It's a hold-over from brutal Feudal customs, but it serves double duty to create those divisions, absolutely. Mostly Upstarts segregate themselves from Laborers (living in different parts of the city, putting most Laborers in the industrial cities), but when they do live close together, they find other ways to keep Laborers from having thoughts about rebellion.

Oslov was inspired by the classic dystopia Metropolis and how it talks about the head (intellectuals, managers) versus the hands (workers) of the body politic. Oslovs think they have those two elements balanced in a fair, equitable way, with social mobility built in, but they really don't.

Thanks again for these great questions! I was looking through old stuff from high school, and I found the earliest Oslov stories I ever wrote, along with my unfinished guide to the Oslov language. Maybe I'll do another post with pics, just for fun. One story was typed on an electric typewriter and the other was printed on a dot-matrix printer, to give you a sense of time frame.

[asumofwords]

I was her fan for YEARS and then I guess I grew out of it lmao Funny ‘cause I’d assume that I’d be annoyed when she and I were younger ‘cause we all know that teenage/young adult celebs can be cringe right but no, she started getting on my nerves as an adult! I talked to my fellow ex-TS fan and she reminded me that she was the one who said that celebrities usually get stuck at the age they got really famous and I think she got stuck in her early 20s 💀 And I as a person grew and had to leave her behind, though I still like some of her songs. They’re not the pinnacle of writing though, her fans are wild to say that she’s THE writer of her generation lmao Anyway sorry for the rant I just feel alone on social media sometimes ‘cause everyone seems to worship her and when you say that you’re not a fan (anymore) they bully you to hell and back 🙄 Don’t want to bring any big discourse to you me blog, Tee! Sorry again!

Don’t be sorry!! And yes, the Swifty girlies are not to be trifled with !!

[ettadunham]

it's high time that we all stopped with the celebrity worship and accepted that they're all cringe. all of them. the only scale that is is whether or not they're cringe fail or cringe supreme at it.

[kaitlinscorner]

unpopular opinion but people that made a big deal out of that gabbie jada live are soft because if I was on live with my friend and had people commenting “claire is my queen she’s my inspo in life” I would’ve laughed too sorry😭😭😭 that’s so cringe to say😂 anyone who stans a normal person because they’re dating their fav is weird to me! also they know her in real life so there’s probably a reason why they laughed😭 it’s not like they read the comments out loud or called her a bitch or anything mean so I don’t get why people were so pressed about it

AMEN SISTER!! Cause I would have laughed as well🤣💀 that is extremely cringy, it was probably some 12 year old that makes TikTok edits of her🤣and yes I think it’s so weird when people worship and praise someone just because they are dating their favorite person/athlete. If it was 2 athletes or like 2 celebrities I get that but Claire is literally a normal ass person so why is everyone glazing her. Also if they don’t fucking like her then they don’t fucking like her. They don’t have to like her just because she is dating Kate. And once again Jada and Gabbie know Kate better than anyone and they see things that us and Kate don’t see so there is clearly something that causes them to not like her. And you said it perfectly like they didn’t call her a bitch or anything when they very easily could have if they wanted😭

[redheadbigshoes]

It’s so true!!

There’s that or when they thoughtlessly support a celebrity and will defend them no matter how problematic they are. Like, it’s okay to like somebody’s art or piece of media but worshipping them because of it and refusing to think critically is just so cringe. It’s giving cult.

~🌝

Most of the time they don’t even want to acknowledge the problematic things their idol has said/got involved with.

[thatsmutaccount]

Wake up, babe, the 1 year ThatSmutAccount/"Rex new life" anniversary special just dropped, and you don't want to miss it!

*****

Exactly, this is the surprise. It's been 1 year since I first published the first chapter of "Rex new life" on my ao3 account, and I want to celebrate with you all this goal!

Is it cringe? Guess what? I don't care! I think is important to be happy about this little stuff, and its also a way for me to thank you all, either be because you where with me on this journey since the beginning or you just casually discovered this silly, horny ideas let me tell you that you are valid and that I love you all. Thank you very much, you are all great and I do mean it.

Anyway, enough sappy stuff, let me bring out the numbers, so I can show you how much I was able to do because of you guys and because of your support

I was able to publish 38 single chapters in a year (47 totals, but 9 of them where either stuff like the Warnings chapters at the beginning of all my longs or the Timeline/Characters Bios, so I don't really take them into account), which means a chapter every 9 day more or less (this year was a leap year, so I counted 366 days, btw);

"Rex new life" was able to get, at the moment I published this chapter 115.444 views total, which means an average of 315 views per day;

"Rex new life" averages more than 1000 hits in less than 24 hours when I publish it, and this is crazy, you guys are proper nuts;

The total of kudos of all my fics combined is 579 (410 only on "Rex new life"), take away at least 50 or something because of the people who lived kudos on multiple of mu fics, and it's still a pretty high number.

Anyway I was able to do so much thanks to all of you and I couldn't be more grateful, thank you so much, you are all awesome.

Now gor read the new chapter, shoo.

*****

WARNINGS: Blowjob; Deepthroating; Anal Sex; Body Worship; Hickeys; Fingering; Spit as Lube; Praise Kink; Soft Sex; Making Love

MINOR WARNINGS: Incest (Brother/Brother; Father/Son); Threesome (M/M/M); Degradation Kink; Bukkake; slight BDSM elements; Dom/Sub Dynamic; Semi-Public Sex; Public Sex; Creampie; Sex Toys; Slut Saming; Creampie; Cum as Lube; Phone Sex; Pet Play; Exhibitionism; Locker Room Sex; Gangbang; Office Sex; Spitroasting; Cockwarming.

*****

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Happy birthday, Rex Brynn! After a day spent celebrating his birthday with family and friends Rex is ready for his birthday evening with one of the most important people in his life, his best friend Walt. And Walt has the perfect surprise for his dear birthday boy,